miracle that no one in town had figured it out. There wasn’t a ton to do in Wishing Well, so it left a lot of time for nosiness.
Somehow, I’d managed to hide my feelings for him from everyone, including my very over-protective brother, Bentley, who just happened to be one of Holden’s best friends. Bentley was protective and I’d always appreciated his vigilant concern for my well-being, unlike Molly whose anthem was “Independent Women.” I’d always thought it was sweet the way that Bentley looked out for us, and it was a stark contrast to our oldest brother Brady’s general lack of interest or involvement in our lives.
There was one person who knew how I felt. The man himself. Holden Reed. Or at least, I was pretty sure he did. He’d graduated early and left town when he was sixteen years old to pursue his career in the rodeo. The night before he left, his family had thrown him a graduation/going away party. I’d snuck into his room and slipped a letter declaring my undying love for him into his bag.
In my fourteen-year-old mind, I’d been sure that he was going to show up at my doorstep the next morning before he left town, kiss me and tell me that he’d be back for me.
That never happened.
Then I’d spent the next four years in high school romanticizing that he would show up at school and tell me that he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about me. That I was the love of his life and he’d wait for me to finish school and then we could be together.
That never happened.
Senior year I’d dreamed, literally had dreams, about him showing up at my house and telling my prom date, “I’ll take it from here.” And then picking me up Officer and a Gentleman style and, you guessed it, proclaiming his love for me before getting down on one knee and asking me to be his wife.
That never happened.
One would think that this sort of delusional fantasizing would be something that I would outgrow, but nope. That was not the case. It had continued throughout college and even into adulthood.
To this day I’d be teaching a class and catch myself daydreaming that Holden would walk in and Jerry Maguire me. He’d tell me that I complete him in front of my students.
That never happened.
But he was here now.
He scanned the room and for a brief, glorious second our eyes met. I thought maybe all my visualizing had finally worked. Maybe he’d walk across the auditorium and tell me that he loved me. Maybe all the years I’d been pining away for him hadn’t been wasted. Or maybe he’d just smile, happy to see me. Instead, he looked away.
Or maybe not.
Chapter 3
Holden
“Life’s gonna knock ya down. Stayin’ down is a choice. So is gettin’ up.”
~ Maggie Calhoun
As I scanned the room, it didn’t take me long to locate the reason I’d bailed on my plan to get the hell out of Dodge. Olivia was seated across the room with her sister. The second our eyes locked, my body responded the way it always did when I looked in her eyes. My palms grew damp, my pulse raced, and I felt like I couldn’t breathe.
I looked away, unable to comprehend how she could still affect me this much after so many years. I’d felt like a magnet had pulled me out of my truck and forced me to follow behind her. It had always been that way with Olivia Calhoun. I was drawn to her. From the time we were kids, I’d just wanted to be near her.
Before puberty hit, it was fairly innocent. I knew that I felt funny around her, but at seven years old, I’d had no clue what that meant. I’d just known that I liked it. Being near her was like lying under the sun after a long winter and I wanted to bask in her warmth.
Thankfully, she’d been her brother Bentley’s shadow, so she’d been around a lot. She’d spent more time with him, and by default me, than she had with her twin Molly.
I’d been friends with Bentley in kindergarten and first grade. But when Olivia came to school, I started spending every recess and lunch with him. The three of us had played more games of tetherball, hopscotch, wall ball, dodgeball, and kickball than I could count. Olivia was a tiny thing, but she always kept up with her brother and his friends.