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Holden exhales. “This is why I didn’t want to tell you about it. Not until I had the test results, at least.”
“Well, I know.”
He steps back from the rail, motioning me closer. I step in front of him, so I’m caged between warm muscle and hard metal. His chin rests on the top of my head.
“It’ll all be okay, flower.”
“I know,” I say.Lie.
Lately, it feels like I’m sure of a lot less than I used to be.
And nothing I’m worried about feels that far away anymore.
CHAPTERTWENTY-SIX
HOLDEN
All of my teammates at the table order another round. I shake my head when the waitress looks my way, pulling my phone out to check the time and then drumming my fingers on the surface of the table.
“Your girlfriend is really hot.” Sebastian’s tone is admiring. I can tell how drunk he is based on a) the slur in his voice and b) what he’s saying.
“I know.” Mine is cutting.
If I punched him once, he’d probably be unconscious on the floor.
And he’s not wrong about Cassia. Just currently oblivious to the fact that I’m wildly possessive when it concerns her, and my tolerance is getting tested to its max.
In the past two hours we’ve been at this bar, I’ve witnessed a lot more guys than that check out Cassia.
Right now she’s in the center of the throng, dancing and singing with her roommate Nova and a few other girls on the soccer team. After driving back from the ferry and getting dinner, we came to Dirty Mike’s, one of the most popular bars off-campus. It’s packed despite being a Tuesday night.
“Who’s up for darts?” Ezra, a junior on the team, stumbles over to us.
Great, the whole team is wasted.
“Can you even throw straight right now?” I ask.
He grins. “Only one way to find out.”
Ezra probably can. His accuracy is similar to a sniper’s.
I roll my eyes, then spot Cassia pushing toward the edge of the formerly open space now serving as a makeshift dancefloor.
“Stay away from sharp objects,” I advise, then head straight for her.
Cassia stiffens when I grab her arm. Then smiles when she registers who it is, wide and sloppy. She steps into me, flinging her arms over my shoulders and shoving her hands into my hair. She’s draped over me like a blanket, letting me support most of her body weight.
“You okay?” I whisper into her hair. Actually, considering the noise level in here, it’s probably more of a shout.
“Sogood,” she tells me. Her face turns into my neck, her lips warm and wet.
“Yeah, remember that in the morning,” I say, steering her toward the bar. “Let’s get you some water.”
If I had no idea why she was so upset, I’d be more worried. But even knowing, I’m uneasy.
This isn’t her, skipping class and suggesting we come here after dinner. She faces things head-on, like showing up at the campsite. She doesn’t duck and avoid the way I try to.
And I guess I now know how she’s felt every time I’ve spiraled into self-destruction. It’sawful, watching someone you love struggle and being powerless to fix it.
