Page 42 of When We Were Young

I halt.

My feet become rooted to the floor just inside the door. The women’s laughter slows, then stops. But I don’t look at them. I can’t.

Because I’ve glued my eyes to the pretty blonde standing less than twenty feet away.

Am I seeing things? It can’t be her.

Any doubt vanishes when I take in her expression. Her mouth hangs open, and her wide eyes stare directly back at me. Within seconds, a neutral expression settles over her face, but the rapid rise and fall of her chest betrays that she’s not unaffected. And that she definitely recognizes me.

For a moment, relief washes over me. It’s fleeting. Replaced by a pounding in my chest and tightness in my lungs.

We hold eye contact. Neither of us speaks. The silence stretches long enough for me to pull myself together.

“Lizette.” Her name comes out just above a whisper. Rougher than I intended.

She clears her throat.

Despite the other women’s presence, it’s the only sound I hear.

“Hello, Holden.” She takes a measured breath.

“What are you doing here?” I ask.

I need to tear my gaze away from hers. Away from those damn eyes I spent so many nights staring into. Back then, I was certain I was looking at my future. I don’t need those memories. They come attached to others, filled with pain.

“What? I live here,” she replies.

I rub a hand over my eyes in frustration, mostly to buy myself a few seconds.

“Not here.” I gesture around the room. “Here as in Aron Falls. Jesus, I forgot how literal you are. Unless that wasn’t real either.”

The vitriol in my last few words is unmistakable.

She winces. It’s subtle, but I don’t miss it.

I expected fire. Expected anger. Instead, I see hurt. The same expression she wore the first night I chose to cause her pain rather than humble myself and fight for her.

What the hell is wrong with me? I swore if I ever got the chance again, I would do things differently. Yet here I stand, a decade later, acting like an asshole again.

Before I can apologize, Harrison’s booming voice fills the room.

“Pizza’s here!”

I glance over my shoulder as Harrison sets several pizza boxes on the kitchen counter. Hayden follows behind him, carrying two twelve-packs of soda.

The second Hayden sees Lizette, he freezes.

As I glance back toward her, she’s already rushing toward the door.

“Excuse me. I-I, uh… I need air.” Her words are rushed and laced with anxiety.

Shit.

I can’t react fast enough. She’s already halfway down the stairs by the time I reach the doorway.

Hayden’s reflexes are quicker than mine.

He’s pulling me backward before I can chase after her.