Page 18 of Reece & Holden (Gomillion High Reunion #6)
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Reece
“He says he can’t fix it until tomorrow,” Holden says, coming over from where the garage owner is fixing the car to a tow truck. “He says he won’t get the part until then, but he’ll give us a lift into town. You can probably get a bus from there back home if you want.”
“No, I’d rather stay with you, keep you company if you don’t mind,” I say, and his shoulders drop with relief.
We’re dropped off at the garage and we watch as he tows Holden’s car into the compound.
The mechanic had pointed out a motel about half a mile back so we set off in that direction.
While we walk, Holden calls Clara and explains the situation to her.
I can hear enough to know that due to her extra shift today she isn’t working tomorrow and can manage the store.
“Thanks. I owe you one big time,” he says, ringing off. I’m pleased he’s managed to get it sorted. It’s one less thing for him to worry about.
The motel doesn’t look great, but as far as I can tell there isn’t anywhere else.
The town seems like the sort of place people pass through on the way to somewhere better, only the unlucky ones get to stay.
We push open the fly screen door to the motel office and walk in.
Behind the counter is a woman of indeterminate age.
She might be forty, or eighty, but probably somewhere in between.
Her dyed hair is piled high, and she has a face worn down by a lifetime of disappointments.
She eventually drags her eyes from whatever show is blaring out from a screen in the corner.
The sort of show that likes to reveal paternities live on air.
“Two rooms please,” Holden asks.
“We only have one room,” she drones.
I glance out the door at the obvious lack of cars in the lot that would indicate more guests.
“Are you sure? Please check again,” Holden says.
She doesn’t bother.
“I said there’s one, take it or leave it.”
Holden looks at me, and I shrug that it’s fine.
“Okay.”
She tells him the price and he pulls out cash and pays.
“I’m not using my card in a place like this,” he says, as we walk along to what is apparently the only room. “I can imagine it being cloned before we’ve even made it this far.”
I agree with him.
“Do you believe there’s really only one room?” he asks.
“I believe she can’t be bothered to clean more than one, or hasn’t moved herself to get more than one ready. It doesn’t look like the sort of place that’ll suddenly have an influx of guests.”
“Right.” Holden agrees with me. He unlocks the door and lets it swing open. It’s a small and outdated room, dominated by a large bed.
“Are you kidding me?” I’m not sure what he was expecting.
“I’ll take the chair,” I offer.
“No, it’s fine. I’m sure we’ll manage,” he says uncertainly.
It doesn’t look too bad as long as you don’t look too closely in the corners.
I leave Holden in the room and go for a walk, taking the opportunity to call my mom and tell her what’s happened.
I discover a diner not far from the motel, so at least we won’t starve.
But apart from the motel, diner, garage, a seven-eleven, and a few scattered homesteads, there doesn’t seem to be much else to the town.
We eat dinner at the diner and walk back to the motel. Holden is fairly quiet but he seems alright.
“Which side do you want?” He gestures toward the bed.
“I don’t mind, the left I guess.”
“Okay.” He turns his back to me and strips off his pants, sweater, and shirt and climbs into bed, turning the light off on his side.
I take off my pants and T-shirt and get in on the other side. I turn my light off, plunging the room into darkness and silence.
I lie there for a while, tired but not sleepy, and I can tell Holden’s not asleep either. Somehow in the darkness it feels easier to utter things that are difficult by day. This feels like a good time to apologize again.
“Holden?”
“Yeah?”
“I want to say I’m sorry again and explain what happened back when we were in high school.”
He sighs deeply, effectively cutting me off.
“I’ve had a really shitty day. I spent hours driving to find out something I’ve been looking forward to isn’t going to work, and now I have to start over again.
So it’s been a wasted trip, one I’ve dragged you along for.
My car’s broken down and now I’m stuck here until it’s fixed.
One day I do want to talk about it, but not today. So stop making it about you.”
He turns on his side, presenting me with his back. Conversation over.
He’s right of course, and I’m angry with myself for not realizing that.
There’s no way I’m going to sleep, so I rise and pull my pants and T-shirt back on.
I need some air. I leave the room, walking in some random direction, and as I walk, I think through what’s happened, and he’s right.
I need to let him choose the time to talk about it, even if that’s hard to do.
The turmoil of still not having it resolved bubbles through me, and I keep walking to try to calm the feeling.
Miles’s words from last week come back to me.
I keep thinking that the key is for Holden to forgive me, and it is important, but the queasiness I feel is because I haven’t come to terms with it myself.
Yes, I did those things, bad things, but my mom is right, I’m not a bad person and those actions don’t define me.
I need to let it go. I keep walking, working a large circle back to the motel a couple of hours later.
I still have some work to do but I feel much better.
I also know it’s time to be true to myself.
It’s scary, but it’s a chance I have to take, whatever the outcome.
When I get back to the room, I can tell Holden’s asleep by his rhythmic breathing.
I sit and watch him for a few minutes. He looks so peaceful, beautiful.
I resist the urge to brush his hair out of face.
Instead I lie down on the bed and manage to sleep for a few hours, and he’s still asleep when I rise and take a shower.
I don’t wake him as his car won’t be ready for hours yet, and while I’ve made my decision I’m still nervous about it and in no rush.
I decide to head to the diner and grab some breakfast, but before I leave, I take out the knitted heart that I brought with me in my bag, because it goes everywhere with me.
I carefully place it on my pillow before I slip quietly out the door.