Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 74698 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 373(@200wpm)___ 299(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74698 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 373(@200wpm)___ 299(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
After marching up the creaking wooden porch steps, I knock—three sharp raps. I hear raised voices that immediately fall silent and after a moment, Holland opens the door. She’s wearing jeans shorts and a green tank top, her hair pulled back in a ponytail.
Eyes flashing with surprise and irritation in equal measure, she asks, “What are you doing here?”
“I’ve been trying to reach you,” I say, glancing past her shoulder where I see her mother standing in the living room, her arms folded over her chest.
We lock eyes and I see that Debbie’s are red and puffy. “Hello, Trey,” she says, her voice strained.
“Mrs. Rhodes,” I reply politely and then look back at Holland for a more critical scan. She’s clearly not been crying but her face is pinched, and her gaze is flat. “Are you okay?”
Before she can answer, Debbie says, “Holland… we need to finish this.”
Holland sighs, her eyes closing briefly before they reopen. She stares straight at me but it’s to her mother she speaks. “I’m going out for a while.”
“Holland,” Debbie snaps, her tone firm and no nonsense. “We are in the middle of something important.”
Turning to look over her shoulder, she says, “It will be just as important when I get back.”
And with that, she marches past me and jogs down the porch steps, heading straight for my truck. I stare at Debbie before giving her a nod and following Holland.
Already in the passenger seat with her seat belt on, Holland doesn’t say a word when I get in. She’s quiet as I start the truck and remains mute as I pull out of the Rhodes’ driveway. I let the silence fill the space between us and it’s only when I pull onto the service road to Blackburn Farms that she speaks. “What are we doing?”
“Threw the fishing poles in the back before I came looking for you. Thought we’d toss some lines in and see if we’re lucky.”
I glance over at her to find a dubious return stare. “You want to go fishing?”
“Yeah, why not?”
“Because we agreed only to hook up,” she says blandly.
“I didn’t agree to that,” I reply as I turn my attention back to the gravel path that cuts among the pastures. “You suggested hooking up, and I’m okay with that, but I never agreed that’s all it would be.”
“Well, I don’t want any more than that,” she grumbles.
I decide to take a chance to see if she’s bluffing. “Duly noted. Want me to take you back to your mom’s or do you want to fish?”
Holland sighs dramatically and settles into the seat. “Might as well fish.”
I keep my face blank but I’m grinning on the inside. If she truly only wanted to hook up, she’d demand I take her somewhere to do that very thing. Of course, I also threw a blanket in the truck bed because once the sun sets and the stars come out, it’s very private at the pond and no one would be able to see us canoodling.
Tension vibrates off Holland and if I had to guess, it’s likely from whatever I disturbed between her and her mother a few minutes ago. I let Holland process and drive in amiable quiet until I reach the pond.
We exit the truck and I pull out the poles, tackle box and heavy-duty wool blanket. Holland eyes it but doesn’t comment.
“Can you grab that small cooler back there?” I ask, nodding toward her side of the truck bed.
She reaches in and hefts it out, turning for the dock, and I follow along. I spread the blanket, the fringed ends hanging over the wooden edge. “There are sandwiches and beer in the cooler,” I say as I ready the poles.
“Not hungry,” she says, but pulls out two bottles and twists off the caps. Holland removes her sandals and sits on the dock edge, her long legs hanging over with toes just inches above the darkening water.
When I sit beside her, leaving a foot of space in between, she hands me my beer and I give her a pole already sporting a spinner bait lure on the end. I take a swig of my drink and set it down before I cast my line, slowly reeling it back with tiny jerking motions. We do this a few times, sipping our beers, and from the corner of my eye, I see Holland’s body visibly relaxing.
It’s nice to see her like this. I glance at our surroundings with the pastures shadowed a dark green from the late sun and the sky firing up with pinks and oranges. Holland and I spent a lot of time alone together at this pond. It became our go-to place to hide out from the rest of the Blackburns so we could see each other in private. It’s where I first told her I loved her.