Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 68716 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 344(@200wpm)___ 275(@250wpm)___ 229(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68716 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 344(@200wpm)___ 275(@250wpm)___ 229(@300wpm)
Those words hit deeper than they should.
I sit back on the garage floor, leaning against the lift, letting the warmth of that settle into the spaces she carved open without meaning to.
“Yeah,” I mutter to myself. “Me too.”
The heater hums.
The radio plays something slow.
Work waits for me on the bench.
But all I can think is:
I didn’t realize how damn empty these two weeks were until she filled a single moment of them again.
And if Honey is right—and she usually is—maybe having the balls to reach out was the easiest fix I’ve made in a long damn time.
Fifteen
Holley
Two weeks.
Fourteen days of cold mornings, long work shifts, and trying—not very successfully—not to think about him.
When Tony’s name finally flashed across my phone, something in me unclenched so suddenly I almost sat down on the kitchen floor. And then, after we texted—short, simple, easy in the way only he manages—I spent the rest of the night staring at the ceiling wondering why it felt like nothing was on track.
But now that the glow has faded into morning light, I’m left wrestling with the same thing I haven’t said aloud to anyone:
I miss him.
I miss his steadiness.
His quiet humor.
His warmth.
His presence, which fills a room without effort.
And the way being around him made everything inside me stop buzzing for a minute.
I pull his hoodie over my head—yes, I still have it, and no, I’m not giving it back—and grab my keys. I’m halfway out the door before I realize I didn’t lock it behind me last night.
Again.
I swear I thought I did but this is twice I’ve reached for the doorhandle to find it unlocked.
I freeze on the porch, my breath fogging the air.
That feeling prickles at the back of my neck again—the one that’s been haunting me for three days now. Like someone’s eyes are on me. Like I’m not as alone as I thought.
I tell myself it’s just anxiety. Stress. Lack of sleep. But the sensation doesn’t fade. It just settles over me like a warning.
The driveway is empty. The trees are still. The air is sharp and quiet.
But I swear something shifts behind the storage shed at the edge of the property.
A shadow.
A shape.
A flicker of movement I can’t quite focus on.
“Get a grip,” I mutter to myself, gripping my keys like a weapon as I hurry to my car. It’s probably a bear or deer or something.
Still, the unease follows me all the way to work.
The dental office is already a mess when I arrive.
The waiting room lights are off. The blinds are half-closed. The front desk computer isn’t even on. I blink twice, wondering if I somehow read the schedule wrong.
Then Megan bursts out of the break room, waving a stack of papers like they’re on fire.
“Holley,” she hisses, “you will never believe this.”
I pull my coat off slowly. “What, did Dr. Kline finally blow up the suction pump?”
“No.” She thrusts the papers into my hands. “Dr. Kline has a tax lien.”
I blink. “A… tax what?”
“Debt,” she says dramatically. “A big one. A bad one. The IRS sent a notice and everything.”
I stare at the letterhead, processing. “Wait, is that why the lights are off?”
Maria nods vigorously. “They froze the practice accounts. We can’t run patients. We can’t take payments. We can’t bill insurance. We can’t do anything.”
My stomach sinks.
“So we’re closed?”
“Temporarily,” she says, though it sounds like she’s trying to convince herself. “Dr. Kline is begging his accountant to fix it. Could be a day, could be a week. But we’re definitely not working today.”
Perfect.
Just what I needed.
* * *
A forced break I didn’t ask for, paired with the creeping feeling that I can’t shake someone tailing me. How will I afford this unpaid day off?
I rub my forehead. “Okay. Well, let me know if you hear anything.”
“Oh trust me,” she says, rolling her eyes. “I will scream the second this nightmare ends.”
I leave the office in a daze. My car feels like an ice box when I climb in. I sit there for a long moment, staring at nothing, letting the weight of everything settle.
No work. Uncertainty. A strange feeling that something is off.
And Tony’s text from last night sitting like a warm coal in my chest.
Before I can overthink it, I type:
Holley:
You will not believe this day.
He responds almost immediately.
Tony:
Try me.
So I do.
I tell him everything.
The lien.
The office shutdown.
The chaos.
And then I add, before I can talk myself out of it:
And on top of that… I keep feeling like someone’s watching me. I know that sounds paranoid, but it’s been days and I can’t shake it.
His reply takes slightly longer.
Tony:
That’s not something you ignore, sweetheart.
I swallow.
Holley:
I’m probably imagining it.
Tony:
And I probably look good in a suit. Doesn’t make either thing true.
Despite myself, I snort. I bet he would look good in a suit.
Holley:
I’m being serious.
Tony:
So am I. Trust your gut. It’s sharper than you think.