Page 11 of Reece & Holden (Gomillion High Reunion #6)

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Reece

“How are you, honey?” my mom asks when I walk into the kitchen, putting the year book down on the kitchen table. Holden’s words have left me deflated and I’m not sure I can face going to the prom tonight, so I don’t want to answer with the truth. Instead, I change the subject.

“Something smells good.”

She gives me a curious stare, but I ignore it and start making myself a coffee.

I try not to dwell on the fact that I haven’t had much time to catch up with her yet.

But as soon as the reunion is over I’m looking forward to changing that.

We’ll spend a few days doing mom and son things, which we haven’t done in a very long time.

I’ve also never told her about how I was for those last few months before I left.

As much as I hate to, I feel I need to tell her.

I want her to know that part of me as well.

“Marina gave me a new cookie recipe so I wanted to try it out,” she says, cutting through my thoughts. I turn to look at her and raise an eyebrow.

“You’re taking recipes from someone else?” My mom is an excellent cook and I remember her cookies were pretty special.

“We’re swapping recipes, it’s what we do,” she says with a laugh. “The same with knitting patterns. That’s how we increase our own knowledge, by sharing.” That sounds very communal, and I wonder what it would be like to have a network like that.

“I’m glad,” I say with a grin. “Because her cookies are sooo good.”

“That’s what I’ve heard,” my mom says, and I look for a hint of irony or envy but I see none, nor does she respond to my gentle teasing. All I can see is a woman with genuine admiration for another and I’m so proud of her. I just wish I could reach even half her standards.

A beeping erupts from the oven, and she crosses the room to switch it off and pull out a tray of cookies, which look just perfect. I’ve eaten a few of Marina’s cookies over the last few months but I don’t recognize these.

“They smell incredible,” I say. “What are they?”

“Pecan and honey,” she replies and a warm glow spreads throughout me.

“You remembered!” Pecan’s my favorite but not so easy to find in the UK.

“Of course I did.” She smiles, looking pleased that I recognized her efforts. She transfers the cookies to a cooling rack and I sneak a hand out to steal one. She bats my hand away with the spatula, but I pay no heed and steal one anyway.

“Reece!” she admonishes, but I can tell she doesn’t mind. She did bake them for me after all.

“Oh my,” I exclaim, keeping my mouth open as the cookie is very hot and I’m trying not to get burned. “These really are delicious.”

She rolls her eyes at me, like I deserve the pain I’m in, but she looks pleased at my outburst anyway.

“You have Marina to thank for that,” she says as if it’s no big thing.

“Ah, but you did the cooking,” Marina says coming into the kitchen and casting her eyes over the cookies. “They turned out great.”

My mom smiles even wider at the praise, and I wonder how many friends she has in town.

Not acquaintances, but really close friends she can call on.

I know I’m not responsible for her, but again I get the feeling that it must have been tough on her being without her family, and a sliver of guilt lodges in my chest. Another subject I want to discuss with her when we get some time together.

“Can I look?” Marina taps the yearbook that I left on the table, and I nod. She sits and opens the cover.

“Oh yes, let’s see.” My mom sets down a couple of cups of coffee and takes a seat next to her.

They start skimming through it and I lean back against the counter and pick up another cookie. This time it’s cool enough to enjoy properly, and I munch my way through it, watching them.

“Oh look, there’s Miles. He’s our local handyman. Wasn’t he on the swim team with you?” She directs the question at me.

“He was,” I mumble round a mouthful of cookie.

“Oh, and there’s Holden, he was such a sweet kid,” my mom says and starts to tell Marina all about him. How he was a gentle child, so talented with his crafts. She describes how he was an anxious young man who seemed to struggle with anxiety, but how he now runs his own store.

“I’ll take you to his store on Monday. It’s the best in the county,” she adds. Her words and how she describes him are all true, and I hear the respect she has for him in her voice. A lump forms in my throat, made of the guilt of what I did to him and that I contributed to his anxiety.

I utter something about needing to get ready, and flee the kitchen, unable to bear listening to them any longer. I know I’m making a mess of fixing things with him but I’m determined to try again. It’s the only way I’m going to stop feeling like this.

I try not to notice the fact that I’m one of the few people without a prom date.

It feels painfully obvious when we mingle before dinner.

I chat with Marcia and her husband for a little while, and she tells me more about her work.

I know the exact moment Holden walks into the room.

I have no clue how, I just do, like an emptiness in me that I didn’t know existed is suddenly filled.

I take a deep breath and swivel round to see him.

He’s with Clara and they’re greeting a couple of people.

He looks very smart in a suit instead of his usual knitwear.

It’s dark blue and he’s wearing a cream shirt.

With his chestnut hair and beard he looks breathtaking and I drink in the sight of him.

He turns and looks directly at me as if he also senses my presence.

His gaze is neutral but he tilts his head slightly as if he’s appraising me, and I tip my chin up slightly in acknowledgement, a silent greeting from afar.

The only response he gives is a slow blink and to press his lips together before he turns away again.

A deep urge to go over to him wells up inside me, and I take three steps before his last words to me come flooding back, stopping me in my stride.

A moment of clarity hits me. Every time I’ve seen him since I came back to this town, I’ve inserted myself into his space, made him talk to me.

Each time he’s either walked away or asked me to leave.

Clearly that tactic isn’t working so I need to try something different.

I’ll show him we can exist in the same space without me hassling him.

It can’t hurt, so I keep my distance but continue to watch him. I can’t help that.

I almost jump out of my skin when a large hand clamps down on my shoulder. I spin round and look straight up into the face of Rory Danvers.

“Rory!” I exclaim, half from the shock and half in surprise at seeing him, as I hadn’t seen him yesterday or earlier. Rory was my second on the swim team, the only one who could get close to my speed.

“Hey, man,” he says, his voice rich and deep.

“What happened to you?” I ask as he draws me into a tight bear hug. Back in high school he was a beanpole, already well over six feet tall by our senior year. Now he’s almost as broad as well. He releases me from the hug and spreads his arms, turning a full circle.

“I grew,” he guffaws, and then introduces me to an attractive blonde woman who was eclipsed behind him. “Suzie, my wife.” I shake her hand.

“Pleased to meet you, do you have anyone with you?” she asks, looking around.

“I came alone.” I give a brief smile and she returns it.

“Would you like to sit with us for dinner? I’m sure Rory would like to catch up with you. I’ve heard a few stories over the years, but it’s nice to finally meet you.”

“Now I am worried,” I say, but she smiles broadly so they can’t see me in a bad light. I like Suzie and accept her offer. When we’re seated I ask Rory to tell me his story.

“I went to Berkeley on a swim scholarship. In the second year I needed more strength training. My coach suggested weights, and let’s just say I liked them more than swimming. I started to take them seriously and was California State Champion from 2010 to 2012.”

“That’s really impressive,” I say, meaning it, and he looks pleased.

Suzie starts to speak but we’re interrupted by the servers. Once they’ve moved on I ask, “What were you saying?”

“Nothing.” She shakes her head slightly. “I was just going to say I need to check in on the children.”

“You have children?” I turn to Rory.

He breaks out into a broad grin, and while we eat he tells me that they have a boy and a girl, and I can tell how proud he is of both of them.

“What about you?” he asks casually and I school my face into a neutral expression, but obviously not fast enough. “Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean to pry. I shouldn’t ask.”

“It’s alright,” I reply. “I’ve never been lucky enough to find someone I wanted to settle down with forever.”

“That’s tough, pal.” He squeezes my shoulder. “Maybe you’ll find her soon.”

I blow out a breath and say, “Him.”

A look of confusion settles on his face so I help clarify it for him.

“Yeah, I came out in college.”

His frown deepens. “Well, I wasn’t expecting that. You were pretty vocal about that from what I recall.”

I wince at his words, even if he did soften my actions and didn’t outright call me a bully.

“You can admit it, Rory. I was a homophobic asshole back then. But people change and it’s a past I’m trying to put behind me.

” Instinctively my eyes seek out and find Holden.

As soon as I do he looks up at me too. His expression is softer than it was earlier, and his gaze stays on me for a full five seconds before Clara nudges him as if she’s said something to him a couple of times and he hasn’t heard her.

He returns his attention to her and I sigh, feeling like I’ve just lost something.

I turn back to Rory, only to see he’s been watching me.

“Sorry, I got distracted there for a minute,” I mumble, and he gives me a look full of compassion.

“Well, I’m glad you’ve found yourself, Reece. It’s not an easy thing to do.”

“Thanks—” It’s all I get out before there’s a noise at the end of the room.

The principal is standing and knocking a fork against a glass until the room quietens down.

He launches into a speech about how pleased he is to welcome us back and the future of the school.

I don’t listen too closely. Then he gives over to one of the teachers who looks like they’ve been around since we were last here, but I don’t recall.

They announce there’ll be a sharing of stories and memories from some of the former students.

“I’m going to get some air,” I whisper to Rory and Suzie, and they nod in a distracted way. I pass by the bar and get myself a local craft beer before making my escape.

I breathe a sigh of relief as soon as I’m outside.

I can’t think of anything worse than listening to accounts of high school.

I don’t need any more memories of that time.

I vaguely remember reading about it on the invitation email, but I didn’t pay it much attention.

Also something about a silly awards ceremony.

Urgh, another thing that’s not for me. I could leave now, I’ve shown my face and catching up with Rory was enjoyable, but I don’t want to.

Whatever was in that last look from Holden is keeping me here, and I don’t want to leave until I discover what it meant.

I’m certainly not the only one who wants some air, and I pass several people as I walk.

Some are in groups talking, and there are a few couples engaging in kissing and possibly more.

I laugh to myself. At least at this prom there are no teachers or other members of the staff patrolling to make sure that doesn’t happen.

I make my way toward where the photos were taken earlier and sit on a bench, where I take a long draft of my drink and sit back trying to relax.

I look up at the stars, wondering if they look different here from how they do at home in England.

It’s amusing how I think of Oxford as home now and not here, but then I have been there for more than half my life.

I relax further and put my hand in my pocket, my fingers closing around a familiar shape.

I don’t remember putting it there after I looked at it while getting ready earlier.

I pull it out of my pocket and turn it over in my hand, gently tucking the frayed threads back in.

I don’t know if I’ll ever tell Holden I have it—not sure what will happen if I do—but having it with me brings me comfort and strength, just like it has for the last twenty years.

I put it back in my pocket and rise. I have to find Holden.

When I return to the gym, I’m pleased to find that the awards are over and the music has started.

First, I seek out Rory, and he proudly shows me the small trophy he’d won for the thickest thighs after someone had found out about his body building.

He whisks Suzie off to dance, the eighties tunes prompting many others to join them on the dance floor.

I scan the room for Holden, finding him talking to a few people whose faces are familiar but I can’t fully recall. His eyes lock onto mine, and like a magnet I feel drawn to him. I make my way across the room. I’m aware this could go horribly wrong, but right now I have nothing to lose.

I stop in front of him and keep my features soft. He doesn’t speak but his face holds an expression that looks almost like hope.

“Holden,” I start. “Would you like to dance?”