Page 25 of Reece & Holden (Gomillion High Reunion #6)

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

Holden

I arrive at the store early on Saturday morning, mostly because I didn’t sleep well and at five a.m. I gave up completely.

It started well, and the magic of the evening with Reece left me with a warm glow.

I’ve had a few dates over the years, but that was easily the most romantic, even if his mom also had a hand in it.

I don’t know how I feel about what Reece said his mom thinks of me.

I’ve always just been polite to her and kept her at arms length because of Reece, so it’s surprising, but also, what she did was really touching.

But in the deep of the night, the worries and the fears that hide in the darkest shadows managed to seep in through my restless thoughts.

Mostly questioning what a gorgeous, successful, and super-smart guy like Reece could see in me, a shabby store owner who knits his own sweaters and never moved out of his home town.

My eyes are gritty, my head is full of cotton balls, and I feel rumpled when I open up the store.

The strong coffee I choke down first helps a small amount, but nothing can quite shake the residual uneasiness that’s settled in my stomach.

Still, I manage to get several tasks completed before I open the store, and I’m busy with a flurry of early customers so I don’t notice the time passing.

I know as soon as Reece enters the store, though.

It’s as if I have an inner compass and he’s my north.

All my senses orient toward him, including the building apprehension.

I’m soon finished with my customer and then the store is empty.

“Hey,” he says, coming over. “How are you doing?”

“I’m good.” I give him a small smile. “Thank you for bringing breakfast.” I point to the bag he’s holding. “Could you please make the coffee while I finish up here?”

He nods and goes into the kitchen while I restack some yarn that I’d been showing an earlier customer, advising them on the best type for their project.

I don’t like to leave the counter in a mess, and it also buys me some time to collect my thoughts before joining him.

I take a deep breath, determined not to let him see my worries.

When I enter the back room I see he’s unpacked breakfast and there are two steaming mugs of coffee.

“Sausage sandwiches and cinnamon rolls?”

“I thought you might not have time for lunch and this’ll keep you going all day,” he says, and my heart lifts at how thoughtful he is. He hands me a sandwich and I tuck in, hunger taking over.

“I could get used to this,” I say, marveling at this man, though my anxiety is still at odds with what I’m experiencing. We sit and eat while I keep an ear out for anyone entering the store.

I almost have to pinch myself to make sure this isn’t a dream. I’m still not sure, and so I keep looking at him.

“What?” he asks, catching my frequent glances. “Do I have food on my face?”

“No. It’s just you. I c-can’t believe you’re here and we’re sharing breakfast. It’s just so . . . normal. A few weeks ago I wouldn’t have thought it possible. Your name used to bring me out in a cold sweat.”

His eyes darken around the edges in pain.

“I don’t think I’ll ever be able to say sorry enough for what I did to you. Even if I had a hundred lifetimes to say it.”

His words slice me like a sharp blade, letting back in all the demons from during the night. He doesn’t really want me. I can’t blame him, who would? He’s just here out of a sense of shame.

“Is that why you’re doing this? To say sorry?” I blurt out. “I don’t want your pity.”

He winces and puts down his sandwich, then turns fully to face me.

“Holden, when I came back it was to say sorry. I couldn’t conceive that you’d let me be anything more than the guy who’d hurt you.

But when I met you, it kindled the flame I’ve held for you for so long.

I do want to be with you . . . more than that.

I want to be a part of your life if you’ll let me.

But please let me say sorry sometimes without you thinking I’m here because of an obligation.

I’m truly not, but I need you to believe it too, or we’re never going to make us successful. ”

My brain latches onto the way he says us. “Y-you think we can be?”

He crosses the short space between us and crouches in front of me, taking my hands in his. “I really do, as long as we’re always open and honest with each other. If you ever have doubts, then let me know, and we can work through it together.”

I like his words, love them, but I still don’t understand why.

“I just d-don’t know what you see in me. I’m a mess. I feel old, w-worn around the edges. I’m homey, I couldn’t wear a sharp suit to s-save my life—”

“Do you think I choose my partners based on their ability to be a clothes horse?” he says with a quiet sadness.

“No. . .” I end with a shrug.

He gives my hands a gentle squeeze. “Twenty years ago I fell for a guy who had wonderful qualities. He was creative, kind, funny, and smart. Those were the things I held onto over the years. When I came back I saw he was still all of those things and more. He’s caring, successful, has a beautiful smile that lights up my day, and is also incredibly sexy. Those are what appeal to me.”

He stands and pulls me up with him, drawing me into an embrace. I lay my head on his shoulder, wanting to believe him.

“You don’t look worn to me. You look perfect and like home.

” The last word is muffled, spoken into my hair and my heart swells a little.

I cling to him and he holds me tight. We stay like that long enough for the insecurities to start to dissipate.

It’ll take some time before I fully believe him, but I’m willing to try.

I hear the door open and I sigh, not wanting to face anyone else just yet.

“You stay here and let me handle this. If I get stuck, I call,” he murmurs into my hair, and I nod against his shoulder. He lets go of me slowly and goes through to the store, returning a few minutes later, so I assume everything went alright.

“Now, are you going to finish your breakfast?” he asks.

I begin eating again and Reece serves the couple more customers who come into the store.

“Where do you keep the cashmere wool?” He pokes his head through the doorway. I go through and show him. It gets busy and we work side by side for a while. Every time I catch his eye he gives me a reassuring smile, and my heart lifts a notch at a time.

At around two o’clock there’s the usual Saturday lull and Reece says he needs to go. He’s promised to go with his mom and Marina to show her Nashville before she returns to the UK. He leads me into the back room and into his arms again.

“I’m going to be away until Monday, but if you need anything, just text me or call. Okay?”

“Okay.” Now I learn that he’s going to be away, my heart sinks again.

I’m annoyed that I’m so fragile right now and could do with his company.

I take a deep breath. I’ve managed without him for twenty years, a few more days can’t hurt.

But that was before. Now I feel as though I might drown without him.

“I’m going to miss you,” I mumble.

He kisses me gently. “I’m going to miss you too, baby. I’m finding it harder to be apart from you.”

Baby.

The term of endearment slips out so naturally, pulling the edges of my wounded heart back together and helping to banish the fears.

“You called me baby,” I whisper.

“Hmmm, because you are. We’re going to be great together, baby. I promise.”

He kisses me again, sealing the pledge onto my lips and soul. After several more long kisses he finally leaves, and then only because a customer enters who needs my attention. A few minutes later I feel my phone buzz in my pocket, and when I get a chance to look at it I see what he’s sent.

Miss you baby

It fills my heart with a warmth that carries me through the rest of my day.

I’m pleased when it’s closing time and I can go home. While I am now filled with hope instead of fear, my emotions are tauter than a tightrope and I’m exhausted.

When I reach home, I find Clara on my doorstep. I’d forgotten she was coming round tonight. I open my door and she follows me in.

“Wow, what happened to you?” she asks, looking at me intently, her face darkening. “Did he hurt you again? Because if he did, I swear I will kill him.”

“I think I’m in love,” I say and burst into tears.

I know it’s a reaction to exhaustion and the roller coaster of emotions, but now I’ve opened the floodgates I can’t stop.

She guides me into the living room and sits me on the couch.

She doesn’t say anything, just pressing her knee against me in silent support and handing me tissues.

Eventually the tears subside, and I dry my eyes and stop snivelling.

“Tell me everything,” she prompts and I talk. I tell her about the date, including his mom’s involvement, how elated I felt afterward and then how I was waiting for the bubble to burst. About how caring Reece is, and finally that he called me baby.

“Ah,” she says sagely.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“How did it feel when he said it?”

“It felt like I was special.”

“That’s because you are special, Holden, and I’m glad he sees that and I don’t have to go round and knock some sense into the guy.”

I snort. “You’d do that?”

She shrugs and gives me a grin that’s all teeth, and I almost believe she would. I smile back at her. She’s a good friend.

“So you’ve got it bad, eh?” she asks, and I sigh deeply in answer. She just chuckles. “You know what you need, don’t you?”

“What?”

“A gallon of ice cream and a movie. Stay right there.” She launches herself off the couch and into the kitchen.

I hear her opening the freezer, all the while humming “Love is in the Air.” I laugh to myself as I know what movie she’s going to choose.

Sure enough she hands me a tub of my favorite ice cream—mint choc chip—and puts on Strictly Ballroom.

It’s the perfect film and I’m already starting to feel more settled.

By the time we’ve finished the film and half the ice cream my emotions are on an even keel again. I hug her tight when she leaves and thank her.

I climb into bed and send a text to Reece.

Going to sleep now, but thinking of you.

Me too baby, sleep tight.

And I do.