you’re just as big a mystery as ever.” He tilts his head, never taking his eyes off mine. “What gives big bro?”
“You hit all the ducks on the head so far.” I snatch up his notebook and stand. “Keep guessing.”
I’m not telling.
Not now.
Not ever.
All the Dirty Details
Izzy
Dad,
Maybe I’m not as injured as I thought. I may have found a pinhole of light—heck, I know I did. It’s bloomed into a super nova, a star that’s exploding around me with all of its splendor. Is this what it feels like to fall in love? For the first time ever, I feel like I’m a part of something bigger than myself, bigger than the world, the universe. Who knew this wonderful force existed? Well, most likely everyone else. But as for me—it feels as if I’ve been reborn.
New again in Hollow Brook,
~Your baby girl
Jemma isn’t one to mince words. So when she demands I haul ass to her place ASAP I put on my running shoes and speed over. Usually this sort of distress signal from my BFF kicks off a spontaneous moving day, one in which we pack up her apartment before her soon-to-be ex comes home from the strip club. Lord knows I’ve helped her clear out a three bedroom in under thirty on more than one occasion. Only, when I walk in, there’s not a box in sight. No pile of broken dishes to attest to how pissed off she is, and not a single mound of “his expensive crap” awaiting a trip to the pawnshop. Instead, I find Jemma participating in a rather domestic activity—baking cookies. The kids are all lined up on the couch watching cartoons with their matching trance-like, surprisingly clean, faces.
“Don’t judge.” She holds out a batter-laden spoon. “One day you’ll have an entire herd of rug rats, and you’ll wonder how I ever survived with my hair intact. I’m telling you, Sponge Bob makes a damn good babysitter, and he’s only one DVR away in a pinch.”
“Got it.” I find this doubtful. For one, I haven’t even considered bringing my own children into this world, and two, my mother—
Then it hits me. I had sex with Holt. It was the exact procreative measure necessary to fulfill such a wish list. My mouth falls open, and I’m lost for a moment just daydreaming what children with Holt might look like when Jemma jabs me in the chest with her overgrown acrylic nail.
“Knew it,” she snickers, grabbing a hold of me by the wrist. I follow her back to the kitchen where she pulls a fresh batch of chocolate chip cookies from the oven. “Spill it, Sawyer. Where, when, what, and, well, I think I know who.” She claws the air like a tigress in heat.
“His place, the last two bliss-filled days, everything, and yes—Holt Edwards was the prime suspect.” I plop down at the table and shove a hot cookie in my mouth.
“Holy Jezebel.” She falls into the seat across from me, slacked jawed and pale. “There are so many miracles that just happened—I think we’d better get Mother Teresa on the line.”
“Mother Teresa is dead.”
“Then get the freaking Pope!”
“I’m not Catholic. And I hardly think the ‘freaking Pope’ will give a rat’s ass. Relax, would you? Things just sort of progressed with Holt and me, the end. No need to drag religious hierarchy into this.”
She gives a solemn nod. “So, did you mention anything about that whole—”
“Nope.” I snatch another cookie off the pan. “And I don’t think I’m going to. It’s not important.”
“You think?” Her face contorts in a grimace. “I guess I always thought once you got serious with someone, you’d be able to talk things through. There aren’t too many people out there you tell that stuff to. Plus, you know—it’s affected you. Don’t you think he’s picked up on that by now?”
“Picked up on the fact I’m damaged goods? He’s a smart boy. I’m sure he’s known from the beginning. But, I’ve sort of skirted the topic each time he’s asked. He knows I’m not ready to go there. Besides, if I didn’t know better, I’d bet he’s got a few hang-ups of his own.”
“Oh, hon—I swear over my dead mother’s grave that everyone’s got a hang up. Maybe that’s what makes you two peas in a pod. I bet that weird social juju you carry around like a torch attracted him to you. Moth to a flame.” She nods at her tired analogy.
“Please. It did not. Holt says he’s