Page 32 of Reece & Holden (Gomillion High Reunion #6)

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

Holden

I sigh deeply and Clara groans.

“This is worse than when he was here.”

“I’m missing him,” I protest, and she takes a bulk bag of yarn off me and goes to do some restocking.

“It’s only been three days.” It might as well have been three lifetimes. Okay that is a little dramatic, but I’m really struggling to deal with the Reece-shaped hole in my life, my bed, everywhere. “How am I going to survive another few weeks of this?”

“More importantly, how am I?” Clara stands in front of me with her hands on her hips.

“Sorry, am I annoying?” I ask.

“Yes.” Clara is never one to pull punches. “But I get it, I truly do, and I’m pleased to see you’ve found someone who makes you happy.”

“I am happy,” I say, pulling another bulk bag of yarn from the large box that was delivered from the supplier this morning, grateful that Clara could come and help as I’m being pretty useless. A thought pops into my head. “What if he forgets about me once he’s back home?”

Clara just gives me a look and takes the yarn from me. I know she thinks I’m being ridiculous, but now it’s in there it wedges itself into every doubt I have and widens the cracks.

“What if he finds that he doesn’t want to work remotely anymore?

Or Nolan doesn’t agree to him moving over here?

What if I was nothing more than a distraction, something fun while he was here, to be discarded once he gets home?

What if he has someone else?” The last comes out as a wail and I double over.

My hands start shaking and I find it difficult to breathe.

I stumble forward, unable to see properly due to the spots in front of my eyes.

I hear Clara curse under her breath, and then she’s taking my elbow and guiding me into the easy chair.

I sit with my forearms on my knees and my head bowed while she rubs my back until I can breathe again.

My hands are still shaking, though. I lift my head and look at her, and she gives me a soft smile.

She might not put up with any crap, but she is a supportive friend and has always been there for me.

“Well, this is a pretty mess, isn’t it? I don’t think you’ve had a panic attack since you heard he was coming back in the first place.”

“I’m being foolish, aren’t I?”

“No. I think your fears might be a little far-fetched, and from what I’ve seen of Reece and what you’ve told me of the texts and calls you’ve had since he left, they may be unfounded. But they are still your fears and so they’re valid.”

“I’m hopeless, aren’t I? I can’t function without him.”

“Well, why don’t you do something about it?”

“Like what?”

“Go to him.”

“I can’t do that.”

“Why not?” she says, like it’s the easiest thing in the world.

“I can’t leave the store, and I can’t just close it.”

“I have a few weeks leave. I’ll take them and keep the store open.

It’ll be good practice for whenever you get your next store.

Why don’t you surprise him?” I think for a minute.

It would be possible, and I trust her, or else I wouldn’t be planning for her to work for me.

No, this is a crazy plan, I can’t just drop everything and go after Reece.

“But . . .” I trail off because there’s not much else keeping me here.

“I wouldn’t know where to find him.” I voice the first thought that comes into my head.

“Maybe, but you do know someone who does.”

“You’re a genius!” I jump up, ready to take action.

“I know,” she says with a grin, and I hug her.

Within minutes I’m in my car and driving across town. I get out and knock on the door, almost hopping from one foot to the other while I wait for it to be answered.

“Theresa, I need your help.”

I thought that once I’d made the decision, the anxiety would disappear, and one part of it has. Now the fears bubble to the surface—will Reece be happy to see me, or would he prefer I was out of sight ready to be forgotten—and I spend half the flight wondering if I should’ve stayed at home.

Theresa thought it was a great idea, so I have her support.

She gave me Reece’s address, and promised not to say anything so it would be a surprise.

My parents also backed my plan when I checked on them and said I’d be going away for a couple of weeks.

It might not be that long. Depending on Reece’s reaction I may be on the next flight back, but I try not to think those thoughts as I’m halfway over the Atlantic ocean.

I’ve never flown so far before. I’ve taken a few domestic flights, and I’ve been to Canada a few times to yarn and knitting conventions, but I’ve never been to another continent.

I don’t know what it’ll be like. When I said it’d be weird, Clara laughed at me and said, well, at least we speak the same language, though sometimes I wonder if they do.

Once I’ve cleared security, I take out my phone.

I see there are a couple of messages from Reece.

The first ones make me laugh and ease my worries a little.

Then there’s another one because I haven’t answered his, and he doesn’t know I was flying.

I debate whether or not to answer it, and decide on a fairly neutral message in return so I can keep the surprise.

I send messages to Clara and Theresa, and I call my parents as they don’t have phones I can message them on.

Then I work out which train I need to get to Oxford.

I alight from the train and I’m jostled along with the crowd out to the exit and through the barrier.

I stop in my tracks and look around. It’s different to anything I’ve experienced before.

I’ve seen old buildings before, but they’re just the civic buildings.

But everywhere here looks so old, with enormous stone facades and ironwork. It’s beautiful.

“Can I help you, mate?”

I look down at the source of the voice, which is coming from a taxi right in front of me. I see a line of them and someone beside me pipes up.

“Make up your mind. Do you want this one or not?” I glance at the people arranged behind me. I didn’t realize I’d joined a queue.

“Err, y-yes,” I stammer and open the door, pushing my bags inside and climbing in after them. I give the driver Reece’s address and sit back as he navigates the narrow streets.

“Here you go,” he says, and stops the taxi in the middle of the road.

Cars line the street so there is nowhere to pull in.

I pay and hop out, just as a car which has stopped behind honks its horn at us, and I carry my bags to the sidewalk.

I wish I’d checked with the driver that this was the correct address because it’s not what I was expecting.

Not that I had an idea what to expect, but it certainly wasn’t this.

The stone houses are all three stories high, with probably what looks like a basement as well.

There are railings at the front and steps up to the front doors, which are all set back with tiles lining the recess.

The sidewalk is wide and paved, there are trees set every couple of houses, and the roots have pushed through making it uneven.

I walk to the end of the road and check the street name, which is correct, and then I backtrack to where I started and find the number.

There’s a brass knocker on the door, which seems to echo loudly through the whole street when I use it, but no one answers the door.

Reece must be out. There’s nothing I can do but sit on the stone steps and wait.