We sleep through breakfast and lunch. By the time afternoon hits and Holder walks in with food, I’m starving. It’s been over twenty-four hours since I’ve eaten anything. He pulls two chairs up to the desk and takes the items and drinks out of the sacks. He brought me the same thing I requested after the art showing last night, but that we never actually got around to ordering. I remove the lid from the chocolate shake and down a huge drink, then take the wrapper off my burger. When I do, a small square piece of paper falls out and lands on the table. I pick it up and read it.
Just because you don’t have a phone anymore and your life is crazy dramatic, I still don’t want your ego exploding. You looked really homely in your t-shirt and panties. I really hope you buy yourself some footed pajamas today so I don’t have to look at your chicken legs again all night.
When I set the note down and look at him, he’s grinning at me. His dimples are so adorable; I actually lean over and lick one this time.
“What was that?” he laughs.
I take a bite of my burger and shrug. “I’ve been wanting to do that since the day I saw you in the grocery store.”
His smile turns smug and he leans back in his chair. “You wanted to lick my face the first time you saw me? Is that usually what you do when you’re attracted to guys?”
I shake my head. “Not your face, your dimple. And no. You’re the only guy I’ve ever had the urge to lick.”
He smiles at me confidently. “Good. Because you’re the only girl I’ve ever had the urge to love.”
Holy shit. He didn’t directly say he loves me, but hearing that word come out of his mouth makes my heart swell in my chest. I take a bite of my burger to hide my smile and let his sentence linger in the air. I’m not ready for it to leave just yet.
We both quietly finish our food. I stand up and clear off the table, then walk to the bed and slip my shoes on.
“Where you headed?” He’s watching me tighten the laces on my shoes. I don’t answer him right away because I’m not sure where it is I’m going. I just want to get out of this hotel room. When my shoes are tied, I stand up and walk to him, then wrap my arms around him.
“I want to go for a walk,” I say. “And I want you to go with me. I’m ready to start asking questions.”
He kisses my forehead then reaches to the table and grabs the room key. “Then let’s go.” He reaches down and laces my fingers through his.
Our hotel isn’t near any parks or walking trails, so instead we just head to the courtyard. There are several cabanas lining the pool, all of them empty. He leads me to one of them. We sit and I lean my head against his shoulder, looking out over the pool. It’s October, but the weather is pretty mild. I pull my arms through the sleeves of my shirt and hug myself, snuggling against him.
“You want me to tell you what I remember?” he asks. “Or do you have specific questions?”
“Both. But I want to hear your story first.”
His arm is draped over my shoulders. His fingers are stroking my upper arm and he kisses the side of my head. I don’t care how many times he kisses me on the head; it always feels like a first.
“You have to understand how surreal this feels for me, Sky. I’ve thought about what happened to you every single day for the past thirteen years. And to think I’ve been living two miles away from you for seven of those years? I’m still having a hard time processing it myself. And now, finally having you here, telling you everything that happened…”
He sighs and I feel his head lean against the back of the chair. He pauses briefly, then continues. “After the car pulled away, I went inside the house and told Les that you left with someone. She kept asking me who, but I didn’t know. My mother was in the kitchen, so I went and told her. She didn’t really pay any attention to me. She was cooking supper and we were just kids. She had learned to tune us out. Besides, I still wasn’t sure anything had happened that wasn’t supposed to happen, so I didn’t sound panicked or anything. She told me to just go outside and play with Les. The way she was so nonchalant about it made me think everything was okay. Being six years old, I was positive adults knew everything, so I didn’t say anything else about it. Les and I went outside to play and another couple of hours passed by when your dad came outside, calling your name. As soon as I heard him call your name, I froze. I stopped in the middle of my yard and watched him standing on his porch, calling for you. It was that moment that I knew he had no idea you had left with someone. I knew I did something wrong.”
“Holder,” I interrupt. “You were just a little boy.”
He ignores my comment and continues on. “Your dad walked over to our yard and asked me if I knew where you were.” He pauses and clears his throat. I wait patiently for him to continue, but it seems like he needs to gather his thoughts. Hearing him tell me what happened that day feels like he’s telling me a story. It feels nothing like what he’s saying is directly related to my life or to me.