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)
Right on this dock, she gave me her virginity, and I’d never felt closer to another human being in my life, before or since.
I’d love to ask her if she remembers those days but I expect it would piss her off. Instead, I take advantage of her mellow mood. “Want to tell me what was going on with your mom when I picked you up?”
I expect a denial, then a fight to poke her into spilling, but she says, “We had a fight about the business. She wants to run it, but she can’t. She doesn’t have the ability and I don’t say that in a mean way, but she’s just not business minded. She’ll run it straight into the ground and I tried to explain that to her in gentle terms. She’s not getting it.”
“Is the business itself viable?” I ask, executing another toss. “I sort of got the impression your dad left it a mess.”
After we’d had sex today, Holland went back to her dad’s office, ignoring me completely. I finished up the remainder of my work, but I heard a few phone calls and gleaned enough to know things aren’t so good.
“It’s a mess but I can clean it up, and being the only printshop in town, the business can thrive if someone puts solid effort into it.”
“And you’re sure your mom can’t do it,” I surmise.
Holland reels in her line, opens the bail and executes another perfect cast. She closes the bail and starts to drag it back in. “My mom hasn’t been able to do anything her entire life.” The words are bitter and full of frustration. “She never helped with the business for over thirty years, so it would be like pulling a stranger off the street without a lick of business sense and handing over the keys to the shop. In her mind, I can just coach her through this, but I don’t want to do that. I have my own life, my own career. I’m angry she’s not understanding that.”
I ponder that, focusing more on what she’s not saying. “Sounds like you’re angry about some other things too.” Holland doesn’t reply, taking another sip of her beer. “There’s a lot of things your mom didn’t do over the course of your lifetime that she should have, so I’d say it’s only natural to feel the way you do. You have a right to it.”
The closer Holland and I got that summer together, the more I learned about her family dynamic. Her father was a drunken, abusive fool, but her mother was worse, in my opinion, because she did nothing to protect Holland. She was a doormat and still is, for that matter.
Holland pins those gorgeous brown eyes on me that have a sheen of gold over them from the late dying sun to our left. “She never did anything for me, so why should I have to do this for her?” Her gaze drops, and she shakes her head. “Jesus… it sounds awful to say that.”
“It doesn’t,” I reply simply. “You don’t owe her a damn thing, Holland.”
She lifts her eyes and locks them with mine as she considers my words, then nods and turns back to her line, throwing another cast. I follow suit and we quietly fish and sip our drinks.
“My father left the shop to me, not her,” Holland says.
I jerk slightly, set my pole down and turn to face her. “He what?”
“He left the whole thing to me. I have no clue why because he didn’t care about me, knows I wanted nothing to do with it, and should have rightly left it to my mom. My mom’s also upset about that and wants me to give it to her.”
“And will you?”
Holland nods. “I mean… I don’t want it, so my plan was to get it in order and turn it over to her. But she’ll drive it into the ground in less than a month. So I think it’s best I sell it and give her the money.”
“If you can get someone to buy it.”
She nods, reeling her line all the way in and placing her pole on the dock beside her. “I could keep it. Give up my job in Zurich and move back home.”
A thrill shoots through me at the possibility that Holland would entertain the notion of returning to Shelbyville. I mask my excitement though. “You’d want that?”
“No,” she says. “Too many bad memories here.”
That stings because I know we’re not just talking about her parents. “Holland—”
She holds up a hand. “I don’t want to hear it.”
“Tough shit,” I growl, putting my hand behind her neck and squeezing just enough to get her attention. “I am so fucking sorry for what I did. I know those words will never make it better, but I need you to know, it was the biggest mistake of my life. I would give anything to go back and change things. I would have put you first. I should have fought for us, for you, instead of letting fear and misplaced loyalties get in the way. You have no idea how many nights I’ve lain awake, replaying every interaction, wishing I could turn back time. You were my everything, and I let you slip through my fingers because I was too scared to stand up and fight for what we had. I know that probably doesn’t change anything, but I needed to tell you that.”