Summer Breeze Kisses - Addison Moore Page 0,39

that thing really cuts into my back.” I shake my head as if this were a real issue, and, even though it is, I don’t think I’ve managed to add any levity to the situation. Holt wants something more, and I think I do, too.

My mother’s banner catches my eye. The night of my eighteenth birthday flashes through my mind, unexpected as a grease fire. I can hear his taunting voice. Feel his hands pressing in, snaking all over my body and no matter how hard I try to shake the image out of my head, it won’t leave me alone.

“I’m sorry. I have to go.” I pull back. “You have to go.” I rake my fingers through my hair. “I have to lock up.” I bolt for my phone and pluck the wire from it, filling the room with a deafening silence.

“Whoa—I’m sorry.” He takes a step toward me, and I back away without meaning to. “Izzy.” His eyes fill with heartbreak as he takes me in.

“It’s not you. It’s me, Holt. I’m damaged—nothing or no one can ever fix that. You deserve someone whole and happy.” Tears come uninvited, and I’m unable to blink them away. “You deserve someone who’ll make you happy.”

“You make me happy, Iz.” He holds out his hand. His lips fill in a deep shade of crimson. His face turns ashen. “Let me do this with you. We can get help. We can find someone you can talk to.” He pleads with tears of his own brimming to the surface.

“Please, just get out.” I spin around.

“Iz, you can’t mean that.” He places his hand on my shoulder, and I prove unmovable. “We can push through this. I want to help you. Let me be there for you.”

I don’t say a word. Holt drips his hand down my back, slow, hot as lava, and eventually his footsteps drift toward the exit.

“I’m still here for you, Iz.”

I wait until I can’t hear his footsteps anymore. The sound of an engine roaring to life fills the silence, and I fall to the floor in a heap of tears.

This time they’re not for my mother.

This time they’re all for me.

Holt

A week bleeds by and no sign of Izzy at the bar. I’ve tried calling her twice, but she won’t pick up, and there’s only so much rejection my ego can take. So I do the next best thing, I ply her closest friend with free drinks until she sings like a bird.

A group of coeds walk through the door just as I’m pouring the third beer down Jemma Jackson’s throat. So far I’ve learned there’s far too much drama and trauma in this woman’s life for me to ever keep track of and, also, she might be on the lookout for husband number four.

“So what’s going on with Izzy these days?” I try to sound cool about it as if we were just shooting the breeze.

She lets out a loud whoop of a laugh, and Laney looks over from the bar.

Crap. I hadn’t noticed she walked in, and I know for a fact she’s not on the schedule tonight. Laney breezes over without missing a beat.

“What’s up?” She pulls up a seat, stern as anything. She’s knows I’m up to no good, I can tell by that disapproving smirk on her face. It’s the same look Izzy gave me last week just before she told me to get the hell out of her life—give or take a few sentiments.

“We were just about to discuss your sister,” Jemma slurs before letting out a belch that has me sliding my seat back a good two feet.

“Holy crap, Edwards.” Laney slaps her hands down over Jemma’s keys and sinks them into her pocket.

“There was no way in hell I was going to let her take off.” God’s honest truth. When Baya came along, we implemented the “sorry Charlie” program, and we’ve never looked back. Not one drunk ass is allowed to get up and drive.

“And what’s this we’re discussing about my sister?” Laney pulls a forced grin across her face because we both know she’s putting my balls on notice. “I hear she’s well. And you, Holt, have you heard from her lately?”

Here we go. “No, I haven’t.” It’s like stepping on a landmine. I know better than to piss Laney off.

“Really? Okay, so it looks like the math is pretty simple. Izzy plus no contact with Holt equals she’s not interested.” Laney doesn’t hesitate with the sting.

“Oh, she’s interested.” Jemma