Page 39 of Tracing Holland (The Hold Me NSB #2)

It’s almost strange being out in public without Wes, but he must have finally gotten the hint because when the call went out about the aquarium, we had fewer takers than usual.

I’m not surprised Eli and Sweeny opted for a trendy bar two blocks from the ACC, or that Jesse is lying low, still smarting from his flower cave embarrassment.

I certainly have no complaints about time alone with the three most important people in my life, even though I can’t say I’m overly interested in fish and giant algae.

Still, I’m having more fun than I anticipated when Callie and Holland first begged me to go, and have to admit Casey’s reaction to the shark tank is probably worth its own television show.

He has the entire surrounding crowd of tourists laughing at his commentary and hypothetical conversations between the sharks and fish swimming over our heads as the giant conveyer escorts us through the tunnel.

“Hey, Cal. Why are seahorses such good gamblers?”

“I’m not answering that.”

“Aww, come on! You know you want to.”

“Nope. Not answering it.”

“Why?” Holland chimes in, and yes, part of me is dying to know too after hearing all about how the sea turtle’s date had a terrible time at prom because it would only participate in the slow dances.

“Because they know when to let it ride!“

“Casey, that’s terrible. That doesn’t even make sense,” Callie groans, even though she can’t hold back her smile for long.

Even I’m snickering as he grins and shrugs.

The awkward, almost joke barely has time to register, however, before he’s pointing out yet another stingray for the eighteenth time.

I almost lose it when the eight-year-old in front of us informs him it’s the same one he was admiring thirty seconds ago.

Also, he’s eight, goes to Bradford Elementary, and has a rabbit named Oliver.

His sister couldn’t come because she has an ear infection.

“I think Casey found a new BFF,” Holland observes, taking my hand. I squeeze back and chuckle.

“There’s a lot he could learn from an eight-year-old.”

“A lot more you could,” she returns.

“Eight actually wasn’t a bad year for me. The first eight were good.”

I feel her glance but don’t return it. I’m not really looking for a conversation. I’m not even sure why I said that.

“So what happened at nine? Is that when your dad got sick?”

I nod. “Yeah. And when my mom started not taking it well.”

“That makes sense.”

I shake my head. “Anyway, how much do you want to bet Casey buys a ticket to suit up and hang with the stingrays?”

“That’s a pretty boring bet,” she scoffs. “There’s no way he doesn’t.”

“Ok fine. Then how much that he convinces Callie to go with him?”

Casey doesn’t convince Callie to don a wetsuit and Holland owes me a steak dinner.

We have fun watching Casey enjoy his private lesson with the stingrays, until the inherent attention on stingray swimmers explodes into a full-on autograph session when we’re recognized as quite a bit more than that.

Of course, Casey manages to get off with just a few waves and shouted responses from his protected position in the water, but Holland and I end up with crowds that rival the ones we just waded through at the shark tanks.

Even Callie signs a few, most likely because our fans aren’t sure if they need hers but don’t want to take the risk of missing out.

Watching her stunned expression as aquarium brochures are waved in her face almost makes the whole thing worth it.

A helpful development since we’re stuck until Casey finally finishes with his aquatic adventure.

The second he joins us we do our best to sneak away from the attention.

“You guys hungry?” Casey asks as we finally step into the freedom of the sunshine. “Let’s grab something. What’s good, Holland?”

“Hmm…well, there’s a nice bar and grill not too far if you like good bar food.”

“Bar food! Hear that, Cal? I’m in!” Casey cries.

Callie laughs. “There’s a surprise.”

“Luke, you good with that?” Holland asks.

“Sure, whatever’s fine. You’re paying anyway,” I tease.

“Hey, man. How are you holding up?” I ask, climbing onto Jesse’s bus after we get back from dinner.

I’d heard he skipped food again, which makes three missed meals and almost twenty-four hours of self-quarantine: Phase Two of the beating yourself up process.

I can tell by his exhausted red eyes that Phase One beat the shit out of him last night.

“Oh, hey, Luke. Doing ok.” He’s not as good of a liar as I am, but I let it slide. I drop to the other end of the couch as he lowers his guitar. “You want a drink or something?”

“Nah, I’m good.”

Jesse nods before shaking his head. “By the way, you were right about that chick. She wouldn’t stop texting and calling. I had to block her after the fifth call in two hours.”

I sigh. “Yeah. You’ve got to be careful with your personal info.”

“I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“You weren’t,” I point out with a smile.

He returns it. “Stupid, I know.”

I sigh. “Look, you messed up. It happens.”

He studies the far wall. “Yeah, well, my manager was pissed.”

“To be fair his meal ticket did end up strung-out in a fucking tunnel.”

“I know. Believe me, I know.” He lets out a dry laugh and rubs his eyes. “God, what is wrong with me? I mean, I’ve done some pretty stupid shit, but wow.” He shakes his head. “Actually, it’s funny, he told me the same thing you did. If I’m gonna party, be smart about it.”

“It’s good advice.”

“Yeah, it just doesn’t seem as stupid in the moment, that’s the problem. Then later you’re like, what the hell was I thinking?”

I laugh. “Story of my life.”

He grins. “Yeah, you have some legendary not-so-great moments. So it doesn’t go away, huh? It’s still a fight, even after you make it?”

“Every damn day, Jess. But that’s not being a musician, that’s just life, dude. Your screw-ups just happen to be more tempting, accessible, and public. Your stakes are higher now. You’re not just some warehouse kid messing around in his parents’ garage.”

“What if I am, though, you know? I don’t want all this shit to change me.”

“I’m not saying it should change you , just your priorities. The music comes first now.”

“It sounds so easy when you say it.”

I smirk. “Really? Well, it’s not. It’s a hell of a battle with all the distractions you’ve got coming, but I’m telling you, you’re gonna need that banner when you fight it. You have no chance otherwise.”

”Man, how do you have it so together?” he mumbles, leaning back against the cushions. “I swear, most days I feel like I’m in way over my head.”

He’s not trying to be funny, so I hold in my instinctive laugh. But the thought of Luke Craven having anything under control is a joke in itself.

“None of us has it together, man. What we have are our mistakes. I didn’t learn all this stuff because I’m some philosopher.”

“You messed up.”

“Way more than you even know.”

He sighs. “You really know how to suck the glamor out of being a rockstar, you know that?”

“Yeah? And how glamorous did it feel passed out against a tree next to a homeless guy who probably stole your wallet?”

He gives me a look and grunts. “Fine. Point made.”

“Good. You’re gonna figure it out, I promise. But yeah, you’re also gonna screw up. A lot.”

“You say it like it’s fact.”

“Do you know where I was when I was your age?” I ask.

“Where?”

“Exactly where you are. Dude, you’re not just my friend. You’re me.”

I’m more than a little nervous about Thanksgiving Dinner. My last big family event wasn’t exactly a cherished memory, and I sense Holland knows where my mind is locked as we pull up to her parents house.

“It’s just us, I promise,” she says, taking my hand. “I warned my parents in no uncertain terms that our relationship is not public and you are not here to meet every person they’ve ever spoken to, ok?”

I nod and force a smile, hating this exasperating insecurity. I’m a freaking rockstar. Fucking Luke Craven, and I’m intimidated by roast chicken and fancy napkins at my girlfriend’s house.

“You’re doing it, Luke…”

“Doing what?”

“That thing you do when you get lost in your head and think things that are going to piss me off.”

I can’t help but smile when she does and shrug. “As advertised, right?”

She laughs and squeezes my hand as we approach the door.

We don’t even have a chance to knock before a young woman I haven’t met yet opens it and throws herself into Holland’s arms.

“Hey, sis!” Holland cries, squeezing back. “Sorry we missed you Sunday.”

“Yeah, stupid partners wouldn’t let me off.” She pulls away and turns to me. “And you must be Luke. Hi, I’m Hannah, Holland’s favorite sister.”

“I heard that!” someone calls from the house.

Hannah smirks and waves us inside.

I brace myself for the worst, and I’m actually relieved when the house turns out to be much emptier than I’d expected. True to her word, this really does appear to be an exclusive dinner. Sylvie flies at me, nearly tackling me with a giant hug, and follows it up with one for Holland.

“Hi, Sylvie. Good to see you again. I brought a gift this time,” I say, handing her the bag.

Her eyes light up as she grabs it with a screech and starts digging through the contents. Each bit of swag elicits a new sound, and Holland and I exchange several amused glances.

“Wait, there’s more,” Holland announces. “It’s on my phone, but you have Luke to thank. Hang on, I’ll forward it to you.”

Sylvie’s face is alive with anticipation as she waits for Holland’s cryptic gift. I can barely contain my own smile, especially when she literally collapses against the wall the second her display lights up with a video. She stares at us in disbelief, completely frozen.

“Is that…is that…”

“Are you going to watch it or what?”

She squeals and jumps a few times before drawing in a deep breath and pressing play.