Page 30 of The Inn Dilemma (Give a Bookish Girl a Biker)

Chapter Twenty-One

A single tear falls from my eye as I watch them close the lid to my dad’s casket. Flurries of emotions consume me as my life with Dad plays through my head like a movie reel.

Sprinkled in with the horrible times were some good times.

Like the days Dad came home happy after work when he was emotionally available enough to help me with homework.

The few nights we went out for burgers and fries.

But mostly I felt like a regretted afterthought.

A mistake. Or even worse, but far more likely, a curse.

“Hey,” Aunt Birdie says, grabbing my hand and grounding me in the moment.

As I look down into the eyes of my aunt, the woman who raised me, I find sympathy. But not comfort, which is something I expected to find. Especially from someone as kind and loving as her. In fact, I haven’t felt comfort all day.

Nova catches my eye across the plot and makes her way over to me. Her black hat covers her short hair, with only a few wisps of purple peeking out from the brim. She wraps me in a tight embrace and infuses me with the peace I have been searching for since I found out Dad died.

She steps back and greets Aunt Birdie before turning her attention back to me. “I’m so sorry, Holt.”

I have heard those same words dozens of times, but coming from Nova Price, I feel them.

She knows the tumultuous and complicated relationship I had with Dad.

Even though she was a little girl when I moved to Rocosa, she saw me in a way no one else had.

Almost as if we were kindred spirits from opposite sides of the spectrum.

She came from riches. I came from rags. Then when I moved in with Aunt Birdie and Uncle Walt, I landed somewhere in the middle of the two.

Yet she and Christian took me in without a second thought.

I clear my throat and say, “I’ll get through.”

“You’re strong,” Nova says. Her voice is full of conviction.

So many unsaid words hang in the air between us.

Stories I shared with her when I couldn’t keep them to myself.

Shared memories of Dad showing up at the inn when he was on a short break from trucking, then taking the three of us—Nova, Christian, and me—out for food before disappearing from my life again for months.

“I don’t feel strong right now,” I find myself saying, looking down at Dad’s casket.

“You are strong. And you’ll continue to be strong.” Again, her tone is full of conviction.

I look down at her.

“We’ll get through this.” She grabs my hand. “I’m here for you, Holt. Whatever you need.”

“And you know you have me too,” Aunt Birdie says quietly before leaving to talk to other people as Christian steps over to us.

My friend claps me on the shoulder. “I’m sure you’re sick of hearing it, but I’m sorry for your loss.”

Again, I’m hit with a gratefulness for the Price siblings. Kent and Amanda come over, both of them wearing expressions of sympathy. Amanda gathers me in her arms and hugs me tightly, giving me heartfelt condolences. Kent silently shakes my hand, showing compassion in his own way.

As we leave the grave site, Nova walks in front of me but turns and looks at me, and it’s like I’m seeing her for the first time. She’s a woman. A woman whose beauty outmatches every other woman’s I’ve ever seen.

I take those thoughts and shove them deep down where I can ignore the new feelings coursing through me.

The following day, Nova finds me at my dad’s graveside. She comes over holding a bundle of flowers.

“I thought I’d find you out here. Everyone is looking for you,” she says before sitting in the grassy spot next to me. “Aunt Birdie said she’s called you a bunch of times, but it keeps going straight to voicemail.”

“This is where I want to be right now. With my dad. Even if he never actually wanted me.” My voice cracks.

Nova loops her arm through mine and rests her head on my shoulder. My chest warms at her affection.

“Your dad wanted you,” she says. “But he had his own demons and knew how to play the part of the victim. He blamed everything he could on others.” Her eyes flick up to meet mine.

Any anger I feel at her candidness vanishes in a moment.

She didn’t say those things to hurt me or even to put my dad down; she said those things because they’re true.

My entire life, I thought I was to blame for my mom’s death; as she brought me into the world, she left it.

The only memories I have of her are memories Aunt Birdie and Uncle Walter shared with me through pictures of Mom when she was pregnant with me.

Nova squeezes my arm, reading me like she’s always been able to. “I’m sorry if I overstepped.”

I shake my head. “No. You didn’t. You’re right.

Dad did an excellent job of playing the victim even when he was the true villain.

But I was the antagonist to my mom’s story.

To her life.” My eyes drift to the tombstone I’ve refused to look at since walking into the cemetery.

Diedre Graves, beloved wife, daughter, mother.

Her birthday and death date are only twenty-four years apart.

“You couldn’t be an antagonist to anyone. You’re the sweetest and most selfless man I’ve ever known. I’m sure your mom would be proud of you if she could see you now.” Nova looks up at the sky. “If there is a heaven, I’m sure she’s looking down at you now with a smile on her face.”

Shock hits me. “You don’t believe in God or that there’s a heaven?”

Nova shrugs. “I’m not sure what I believe. But I like the idea of God and believing there’s someone out there looking out for us.”

As a new Christian, I’m not sure I have the right words to share with her. I pray a silent prayer before speaking. “There is a God and He has a plan for all of us. He is always looking out for His children.”

Nova purses her lips. “It’s hard to justify an all-powerful being selflessly loving me with my own dad…” She trails off. “Well, you know how my dad is.”

“I do,” I whisper. “But I promise you, Nova, there is a God and He does have your best interests in mind. You just need to seek Him and then you’ll find Him.”

She gives me a sad smile. “Maybe someday. But until then, I’ll be living life on my own terms.”

It pains me to hear her say that, but I don’t know what more I could say. I’m already raw from Dad’s death, and like Nova, my dad wasn’t exactly the best example of a father.

We stare down at my father’s fresh grave.

Nova slides her arm around my back and rubs up and down my spine.

No words are needed. It doesn’t matter how many times people told me Mom’s death wasn’t my fault; it’s something I’ll always believe.

Nova knows it, and she knows what to do to help soothe the pain that’s never gone away. She’s here. That’s all I need.

How many nights did we spend together in our childhood, similar to this? Side by side, watching the clouds or stars with Christian. Finding solace in the quiet. She was my best friend’s little sister, but she’s always been special to me.

Chris and I would go “camping” in the Prices’ backyard with a tent and two sleeping bags.

Many of those nights, Kent and Amanda would fight like cats and dogs.

Nova would sneak out and ask if she could hang out with us until it was time for her to go to bed.

Usually by ten, the couple would have finished their fight and be sleeping in separate bedrooms.

Nova would sit between us, and Chris would put his arm around her as she trembled, but she never let a tear fall.

There were some nights I wanted to shake her and tell her to just let go.

That it was okay to cry and let all those pent-up emotions out.

But I never did because no matter what I said, it wouldn’t matter.

It was drilled into her that tears were a sign of weakness, and no child of Kent Price would be viewed as weak.

Something drips on my arm, and I turn to look at Nova. Her eyes are wet.

“Are you crying?” I ask.

Her nostrils flare and she rolls in her trembling lips. “My heart hurts for you, Holt. You went through so much with him…” Her eyelids flutter closed and she looks away.

“I don’t want you crying for me. You don’t even cry for yourself.”

Something unspoken passes between us, a long beat of silence that crackles with the unspoken truths between us.

What those truths are remain a mystery to me.

Or maybe I’m just refusing to accept it.

Like I ignored the way my pulse took on a new rhythm when she turned to look at me after Dad’s funeral.

She’s no longer a girl; she’s turned into a painfully gorgeous woman.

But she’s Christian’s sister, six years my junior, and living in Rocosa while I’m away serving my country.

My team is at the ready and can be deployed at any moment for anything we could be needed for.

“I hurt for the ones I love.” She gives me a sad smile.

“And I love you, Holt. You’re like a—a—” She stutters, unable to say the word that would nullify the tension between us.

It would stop the unexplored emotions slowly growing by the second.

But she doesn’t let the word fall. So I do my best to stuff down the turmoil and ignore our shifting dynamic.

I avoid Nova for the rest of my brief trip home and instead spend all my free time going on rides with Chris or working around the inn.

On my last night home, I run into Claire, a girl I graduated high school with.

Over the next few months, I try to convince myself to fall for Claire in an attempt to get Nova out of my brain.

One weekend home, I do the most stupid thing I’ve ever done—I propose to Claire.