The Secret (Magnolia Grove #4) - SERIES COMPLETE

Chapter 13 - {Holden}

EVEN THOUGH I'VE spent every night with Cammie over the last month, when she leaves for work, so do I—which happens to be located for the most part here, at my house—whether it's coding or getting ready for a shift at the station. In the evenings, when my work is done and I know she's off, I head to the guest house or to meet her some place to eat.

Tonight's different. This is the first time since the auction where I'm in my house alone, the sun already having set, so the house is pitch-black. I came in, threw my keys on the table, and fell onto the couch.

I didn't bother turning the television on, looking at anything on my phone, pacing, or doing anything to distract me from what I've just done. In fact, I didn't even bring my cell inside. There's no one I want to talk to. Not even Cammie. Because she needs time to process what's happening, time to figure out what she's going to do. I fear if I hear her voice, I'll cave to her in an effort to make her happy. And I can't live in limbo like this. I swear I was put on this earth for that sole reason: to make Camellia Spencer the happiest girl in the world—the universe. But I'm human. I'm not perfect, and I've failed in so many ways. So maybe I deserve this.

Nothing is happening the way it should. My chest feels like it's being split apart, like it did when I lost Vi. Like this is all my fault. At the auction, my plans were to tell her about why we'd been kept apart, why I did the things I did. I was going to do all that on the date. It was my only chance. But with each day that's passed, I've wondered if the time was right to bring it up. We've been so damn happy making new, fucking sexy memories. I've been selfish. I didn't want to get into the heavy shit that happened while we were apart when we're still figuring out who we are together.

That day we made the promises about no secrets repeatedly, but it didn't seem right to have the conversation in the middle of dealing with all the crap going on with her parents and Oliver. We needed time. Selfishly, maybe I just didn't want to confront the truth because I didn't want to lose her when it seemed like I'd just gotten her.

Getting up, I go to the fridge and grab the entire fucking six pack of beer, then pop the top on one. Taking them to the couch, I sit back down, resting my feet on the coffee table as I take a swig.

I should have known, though, I can't completely have her until we deal with our past. It's funny that I started my day off actually thinking we could finally have her parents' blessing. I'm clearly not my father. I've made a life for myself. An upstanding citizen. Haven't I proven I'm worthy at this point? Will I ever be enough for them? Or am I always marred by being the son of a so-called sexual predator and mad man who takes his wife hostage before killing himself? Because those were his choices, not mine. But for some reason in this country, the family becomes just as diseased and repulsive as the perpetrator. It's a good thing I never gave a fuck. That's their problem not mine.

Taking a longer drag of my cold beer, then deciding to chug it to speed up the buzz, I let my head fall back. I was a fool to think we could make this work between the two of us. It's not just us against the judgmental stares and gossip of the elite of Magnolia Grove. Or us against her parents. Or Oliver. Or any one thing. It's the fucking universe against us. And the weight of that—as much as we're willing to carry it—I'd be naïve to think she's happy when she's crying every morning because she misses her family.

With each day that passed, it was eating me alive from the inside—like that fire was contained but not fully extinguished. I couldn't take it anymore, and I knew when I saw her on that stretcher, I had to tell her. She needed them. And I couldn't stand between them in a moment like that. There was no more procrastinating. It was time to be completely vulnerable, honest.

I still want to be her tree—even if all I can be is a stupid hardwood. But I need her to plant the seed, to choose me. And how the fuck can I ask her to do that if that means accepting by doing so she may be losing her family? We don't even know if we'll work. The thought makes my stomach lurch. I thought I'd lost hope. I managed to move on with my life without her. Until it became apparent she was about to make the worst mistake of her life. It's like as long as she wasn't with another guy, I wasn't terribly worried. Maybe we could still find our way back to each other. But the closer the wedding got, the more my anxiety ratcheted. Will I be able to go back to whatever my normal was before I tasted her, held her in my arms, slept and woke beside her?