Page 27 of Tracing Holland (The Hold Me NSB #2)

Holland follows my gaze, and I feel her deflate as she instinctively puts some distance between us.

Wes’ glare speaks volumes, and we don’t need an explanation about how much he saw.

Holland gives me an apologetic look, and I can’t help but sigh as she fights through the crowd in his direction.

I watch them argue for a bit before she takes his arm and they disappear from my line of sight.

I’m not sure how long I stand there staring after them, a solitary stone pillar stationed in the midst of the undulating waves of the dance floor. It’s not that I can’t move. I want to, desperately. I just have no idea where to go from here.

I’m not surprised when Wes corners me in the restroom the first chance he gets, only that he managed to wait this long.

I have to assume he’s been watching me all night, and my blood chills at the thought of him stalking me, waiting for this moment to unleash whatever punishment he has planned.

I’m not afraid of him, only afraid of what this petty confrontation is going to do to the rickety frame of the new life I’ve just started building.

There are a few witnesses in the room, but they seem to have no interest in involving themselves in our drama. I don’t blame them.

“I thought I told you to stay away from her, you piece-of-shit!” he hisses, and I manage to stir my glare enough to match his.

“And I thought I told you she was a big girl and could make her own decisions,” I spit back, moving to the sink as though washing my hands is infinitely more important than anything he has to say.

I know I’m making a mistake by stoking the fire, but I’ve never done well with people trying to push me around.

I’m the only bully allowed to string myself up.

“I’m talking to you!” he cries, shoving me away from the sink, and I turn on him with the same fire.

“Are you fucking serious? We’re going to do this? Fight over a girl in a bathroom? You’re kidding, right?” I bark at him.

By now, we’re alone and I’m not surprised. We’re acting like raging assholes. I want nothing to do with this; I can’t even imagine how little a random bystander wants to participate.

“Wes, you need to back off, ok? Seriously, just back the fuck off because I’m telling you, this is not going to end well for you.

The only reason this has gone on as long as it has is because I have a huge amount of respect for Holland and her band.

You’re her band, but take this one step further and I don’t give a shit about the blowback! ”

“I’m not going to let you hurt her. I warned you. She’s special and I’m not going to let you use her and throw her away like another one of your groupie sluts!”

“You don’t know a damn thing about me! Get out of my face or this is going to end with us both in the hospital!”

His eyes narrow and his words come out with so much venom I can barely even hear his next phrase.

“Laurel Karns,” he spits, inches from my face.

I stare at him in shock. It’s the last thing I’d expected to hear at that moment and throws me so off guard, I’m afraid he can tell he’s just gained the upper hand.

“Excuse me?” I manage, suddenly unable to draw in enough oxygen.

“You heard me, bitch. Stay away from Holland. I told you, we know what you are!”

“How do you know Laurel?”

“Why does it matter? Laurel isn’t important. It’s the fact that you’re a douchebag who’s about to wreck someone I care about that matters! You’re a fucking loser! Total scum who doesn’t deserve…”

I see red. I’m not even sure what happens next, I just know it’s bad.

I know it makes my fist hurt, then my cheek, then my fist again, then my stomach, my ribs.

I know it’s happening again. I know old wounds are ripping open, tearing chunks of flesh out of my consciousness and littering them all over a grimy bathroom floor that’s collected so much of my past over the years.

I catch a brief flurry of activity in the mirror, two grown men flying at each other, fighting for, I don’t even know what.

What am I fighting for? Certainly not my dignity.

I threw that away a long time ago. Holland?

No. I’m smart enough to understand that this insanity isn’t going to win me any points there, only push me further from any chance of convincing her I’m not this kind of monster anymore.

No, I’m just fighting because that fucking fuse blew my head apart and let this idiot derail everything I’ve been working to build.

I’m fighting because sometimes no matter how hard you fight it’s not enough and all it takes is the tiniest trigger to explode the landmine.

It doesn’t last long. I sense neither of us had a clear goal when we started, and at some point I find myself alone again.

There’s a sharp pain around my eye, blood dripping from my lip.

My right knuckles are swollen and throbbing.

My ribs are on fire, but Wes is the one who ran.

He looked about how I feel, so I don’t even know who won.

I’m pretty sure we’ve both lost, considering the coming fallout.

I grip the edge of the sink and stare at myself in the mirror.

My fingers instinctively rise to the growing welt around my left eye and I wince from the contact.

My bottom lip is cracked and I don’t even want to know what my chest looks like.

So stupid. Completely ridiculous, and I’m furious about the entire encounter.

I know I should be hating that dick Wes right now, and I do, but it’s my own battered reflection that’s haunting me.

Old Luke woke up bloody and sore on bathroom floors. Old Luke fought over girls and trash-talked puny threats to his manhood. Old Luke embarrassed himself with public displays of primal rage, and here I am, staring into the troubled eyes of Old Luke. The Luke I just fought to prove I wasn’t.

The door bursts open, startling me from my critique, and I sigh as Casey rushes toward me.

“What the hell happened? Are you ok? Oh, shit!”

“I’m fine,” I mutter, pushing away from the sink and grabbing a paper towel. I wet it and hold it up to the burning bruise on my eye.

Casey collects a couple more and hands me the wad for my lip.

“So are you going to tell me what happened or am I just supposed to guess,” Casey quips, leaning against another sink to face me.

“I told you. I’m fine. Can we just let this go?”

“Let it go? You and Wes just beat the shit out of each other! We’re touring with them! It’s kind of a big deal!”

I sigh and shake my head. “Seriously, Case, just let it go. We had a misunderstanding. It’s worked out now.”

He still looks concerned, and I know this placating thing is not going to work on him, but there’s no way I’m getting into the story now.

“Do you want me to call TJ? I’m sure we can get them kicked off the tour.”

“No!” I blurt way too fast. “I mean, it’s fine. I had it coming. We both did. Just let it go. We’ll work it out.”

We’re silenced by a knock on the door, and Casey pulls it open with a wary peek.

“Is Luke in here?”

My stomach drops at Holland’s voice.

“Oh, hey, Holland. Yeah, he’s here.” He lets her in and I brace myself, having no idea what to expect from her.

“Oh my gosh!” she cries, rushing toward me. “Luke, I’m so sorry.”

I’m strangely touched by her unexpected apology. “It’s fine. I’m fine,” I assure her, turning back to face my battered reflection, mostly so I don’t have to face her. But she follows and meets my gaze in the mirror.

“Case, do you mind making sure everyone gets back to the buses? I’d rather not have to see anyone right now.”

Casey is clearly still concerned. “Are you sure, man? I don’t want to leave you alone.”

“I told you, I’m fine. I just need a few minutes. Please, Case?”

“Go, Casey. I’ll stay with him and make sure he gets back,” Holland chimes in, and we both glance at her in surprise. She shrugs. “What? I think I can handle a few wet paper towels. I was pre-med after all.”

I laugh despite the grave moment, then wince from the pain. “Seriously, I’m fine,” I direct back to Casey who rolls his eyes.

“Yeah, you look fine,” he mumbles. “You sure you got him?” he confirms with Holland, and I grunt.

“Oh, so you’ll trust her, but not me?”

“Have you seen your face?” Casey returns, his grin breaking as I curse at him.

“Shouldn’t you be leaving? Oh, and make sure you take care of the tab!” I call after him, unable to stop my own grin when the last thing I see is his middle finger disappearing through the door.

Holland laughs before focusing back on me, the mood settling again as she reaches up and gently examines my cheek. “I can’t believe Wes did this.”

“It took two of us,” I respond quietly, and she meets my gaze.

“Yeah, but I know he started it.” She draws in a deep breath.

“Luke, I’m sorry. It’s partly my fault too.

He saw us together on the floor, and I told him to stay out of it and mind his own business.

He didn’t like that I basically defended our relationship, defended you.

He was out for blood. I could have handled it differently, but I just.. .”

“He’s obviously in love with you, Holland,” I interrupt. “I’m sorry, I know you don’t want to hear that, but look at my face.”

She bites her lip and I wonder if I’m finally getting through to her. After a long pause, she sighs and takes my hand. “Can we go find a place to talk that’s not the men’s bathroom?”

“Please,” I agree, eager to escape, and she grabs a few more strips of paper towels.

“For the road,” she explains with a smile.

I’m not overly excited about re-entering the club, but we manage to sneak through the crowds into the cool evening air without any more drama. Holland still hasn’t let go of my hand and leads me to a bench about half a block from the entrance.