Page 4 of Tracing Holland (The Hold Me NSB #2)

I strip down the rest of the way and slip beneath the warm stream of water, not too hot since my body is already on fire.

I stretch out my arms and lean against the far wall, head bowed, allowing the water to soak into my sore shoulders.

I imagine it washing away as much of the day’s tension as it can handle.

It feels so good, and it especially feels good to feel good. I close my eyes.

My first show back. There’s a heaviness in my chest now that I can’t quite define.

I’m not surprised, given the exhausting reality of this day, this moment.

Sure, it felt amazing to be back. The rush of being on stage, consumed by the music, entrenched in the one thing I can do.

For a long time, the only good thing I was.

My life has always been a constant battle for purpose.

I never found it. Not in a way that stuck, that mattered, anyway.

Not until Elena, but of course I fucked that up, because that’s what I do.

Well, what I did. I never knew what to do with Good so I’d destroy it.

I’d break it apart and suck the life out of it until I could transform it into something more comfortable.

Something disgusting that I actually understood, I deserved.

I know I’m not that person anymore, but that doesn’t make the pain go away.

Scars may fade, but you don’t get to peel them off just because you finally put the knife down.

Still, I’m trying to forgive myself, and I’ve come a long way over these last few months.

The counseling actually helped. I was skeptical at first, but Callie and Casey were right, as usual.

I learned things about myself I didn’t even know.

Old memories I’d thought I’d buried turned out to be parasites slowly tearing at my soul.

There were plenty of painful sessions, many downright tense.

But most of all, I learned how to recognize my thoughts for what they are.

To try to stop the downward spiral before it starts.

To break patterns, well, glass as Callie says, and not let myself be comfortable in the familiar slide toward the darkness.

They’re called triggers and I have a fucking truckload.

The water is starting to feel cool against my skin.

I open my eyes and let them adjust to the light.

I don’t know how long I’ve been standing here, but I suspect I’ll have some annoyed texts waiting for me when I check my phone.

It’s fine. I’m actually pretty sure I’ve changed my mind about going out.

I’m in no state to handle more of my past right now, and I know for sure I don’t have enough smiles left in me to get through a night at a crowded club. But they deserve an update.

I quickly finish my shower and run a towel over my hair as I leave the bathroom. I then wrap it around my waist and smile to myself when I see the stream of messages on the display of my phone. Callie does nothing halfway.

I return a quick apology and let her know I’ve decided just to stay in.

I don’t get an immediate response back, which seems strange since I know Callie is glued to her phone, waiting for any evidence of my continued breath.

She’s probably called the FBI by now and put out a missing persons report.

I can see Casey rolling his eyes and trying to reassure her, but I’ve earned her concern.

I know it, and it’s endearing in its own way.

I toss my phone back on the bed and search through my suitcase for some clothes.

I’ve just pulled on a pair of gym shorts when a knock thumps on my door. Surprised, I move toward it and peek through the hole. I breathe a curse, but can’t stop the resigned smile as I shake my head and invite the intruders to enter.

“What are you doing?” I ask as the parade marches into my room.

“Celebrating the opening of your tour,” Callie quips. She holds up a bottle of ginger ale, and I can see Casey has three glasses.

I stare at them in confusion. “What about Saxon?”

“If you’re not going, we’re not going,” Casey chimes in. “I already called Molly and told her to meet us here instead.”

I sigh. There’s no way out of this one, but I suspect it’s probably good I’m trapped right now. I didn’t like the direction of my thoughts in the shower. I need a buffer, and these two have turned protecting me from myself into an art form.

“Well, then I guess I better finish getting dressed,” I mutter moving back to my suitcase.

“Don’t feel like you need to wear clothes on our account,” Callie teases.

“Hey!” Casey cries, and she rolls her eyes.

“Oh, please. Even you think he’s hot. Get over it. Pass me those glasses.”

I laugh as they exchange mock glares before Casey finally relents and hands over a glass. God, I love them together. It’s like watching a rainbow trying to trash-talk a unicorn. Casey would kill me if I ever said that out loud, but it’s just so damn adorable.

“Wow. Blanchard Crest Ginger Ale, no less. You’re serious about this,” I observe, pulling a t-shirt over my head.

“Only the best for my favorite rockstar,” Callie sings, earning her another annoyed look from Casey.

“Fine. Second favorite rockstar,” she groans.

It’s Casey’s turn to roll his eyes. “Whatever.”

“Love you, hon,” she chirps, giving him a quick kiss. He shakes his head, but they exchange a grin that turns me into the intruder.

I clear my throat. “Do the others know we’re not going out?” I ask as Callie returns to pouring the fake Champagne and hands me a glass.

“Yeah, we told them we’re just going to do something with the gang tomorrow. I let Holland know. She didn’t seem to mind,” Callie says.

I find my stomach tightening at the mention of Holland. I still don’t know why. That look.

“She’s really a remarkable person,” Callie continues, which is how I know I’ve done a good job hiding my reaction.

She can read me better than anyone. “Did you know she actually has a biology degree? She was pre-med before she decided to pursue music full-time. Oh, and she writes children’s books! I think she’s published a couple.”

“Wow,” I say. “That’s impressive.”

She nods. “She’s not arrogant or anything, though. You wouldn’t know how smart she is talking to her. She’s really down to earth. Gosh, her music is so good, too. Dude, they killed ‘Perfect Storm’ tonight, don’t you think? I mean, killed it!”

Casey and I exchange amused looks at her casual use of our lingo. We’re converting her. Uh oh.

She waves her hand. “Ok, anyway, this is about you two, not Holland. So, back to business.” She raises her glass and we do the same, holding our breath, preparing for her masterful speech that will go down in the annals of history and be inscribed on monuments.

She’s probably written us a beautiful ode to friendship and stirring aspirations.

We grip our glasses. We watch. We wait. And… silence.

She stares at us. We stare back. Her face scrunches into the adorable pout she does when she’s annoyed with us. We shrug.

“Well, is someone gonna say something or what?” she asks.

“I thought you were giving the speech, babe!” Casey says.

“Me? Why would I give the speech?”

“I don’t know!” he returns in exasperation. “This whole ginger ale thing was your idea!”

“It’s a good idea! I just don’t think I should be the one giving the speech.”

“Well, why would we toast ourselves?”

“You do it all the time!”

I laugh, I can’t help it, and put an end to their argument.

“Ok, fine, I’ll give the speech,” I say, and I can tell they’re surprised.

Even after all this time, as far as we’ve come over the last few months, they still seem shocked any time I demonstrate even an ounce of interest in acting like a human being. I try not to be annoyed.

“ A dark road traveled is not a dark road lost when light turns dark into a path. Labor on, oh weary one, for the end has come now that the journey’s begun.”

There’s silence as they stare at me, and I almost feel shy.

“What’s that from?” Callie asks, her gaze searching mine.

I swallow. “Tuesday night.”

I swear there’s a glisten in her eyes as she nods. “Well, ok then,” she says quietly, clinking my glass. “To the new journey.”

“I love it, man,” Casey says, touching my glass as well.

We all take a sip.

“That would make one hell of a cat poster.”

I laugh as Callie smacks him.

Molly joins us about an hour later, and I get a huge hug.

She’s a sweet girl, and is one of Casey’s closest siblings.

She’s never blamed me for Elena the way most of his family did, although no one blamed me more than my own aunt.

I haven’t spoken to her since that day, since the news broke.

The day she left me a message saying no one who could do that to an angel like Elena would be family to her.

I guess it hurt at the time. I mean, I was such a mess during those first few months it’s impossible to tell which dagger slicing into your gut is the one causing the fatal bleeding.

My aunt actually told me it should have been me.

She always loved Elena. Thought I didn’t deserve her.

She wasn’t the only one. I still believe that.

I’m not sure there’s enough therapy on this planet to ever change that.

I’m happy Casey and Molly have the chance to connect while we’re in Houston, but family reunions don’t work the same for me.

Molly looks a little bit like her. Ok, a lot like her, the way her eyes light up when she smiles.

The texture of her hair. Her laugh. Of course it’s not her fault she’s bringing it all back, and I try to stay polite and positive during the visit, but the earlier heaviness returns as a concrete block.

“Sorry I wasn’t able to make it to your show tonight,” she says. “I bet it was amazing.”

“It was,” Callie confirms. “I’m Callie, by the way.”