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She endsit with a cheeky wink, and I know for a fact tonight will end how I want it to. She's a little shy, but I kind of like that in a woman. I shoot her a simple kiss back and tuck my phone in my back pocket. Dan cranks up the barbecue, and we all settle in, chatting away. The guys laugh at something Brant has said, and I twist my head around.
“Oh, come on, that goal was legendary!” Dan exclaims, his face tight.
“Just like how legendary you were when you made out with Lacey O’Brian in high school behind the science block?” I quip, lifting my brow. The group breaks out in laughter, and Dan does a quick sweep to check Grace isn’t in earshot of the incoming insult I expect he plans to throw at me.
“Fuck off!” He gives me the finger and clips Cole around the ear when he belts into more laughter. “I didn’t make that up,” he grumbles defensively. Kerry mocks him, and the poor sod pinches his nose to stop from losing his shit.
My stomach aches from laughing, and I'm glad Dan dragged me out. As I take a swig of my beer, my eyes zero in on someone over my friend's shoulder. I cough, choke, and spit my beer out, almost drenching us all.
“Cam, you dirty bastard!” Cole flinches as beer trickles down his bare leg.
“Fucking hell, someone grab him a bib.” Dan’s face creases with humour, but it slowly turns to concern when he focuses on me.
“Swear Jar. Swear Jar!” Grace shouts at her dad.
“Kerry, babe, pass that cloth, Cam's making a right mess,” Brant huffs, grinning my way, but I'm paling by the second.
“No, I need it to mop up Darcey. Last thing I want is her drunk,” she mutters.
“Cam, what’s up?” Dan walks to me, his wide shoulder momentarily blockingherfrom my view, and I move without blinking.
“Did you know?” I ask him. “Did you know?” I can't look away from her moving quietly as she looks at something on one of the cake and toy stands circling the green. Her blonde hair has grown. Fuck me, has it grown! She used to wear it to her shoulders, but now it's halfway down her back.
“Know what?” Dan pulls back at my low bark.
“That Holly was going to be here?” I say with a ragged breath, and my friends swing to look where my eyes are trained.
“Fucking hell.” Dan has the decency to react.
“That’s a naughty word!” Grace huffs, tugging on his arm to reprimand him.
“When did she get back?” I'm looking around at them all, trying to get an answer and find some explanation as to why she is here. Is she staying?
“I don’t know,” they mumble collectively, seemingly as shocked as I am. Some sixth sense must alert her to being the centre of our attention because her head lifts and her deep blue eyes knock me on my arse. She's even more beautiful now than she was all those years ago. Her eyes do a quick sweep of us, and her lips flatten briefly before her attention drops away to someone behind her. It all happens so fast to prepare me. Holly bends and lifts a girl up into her arms. She is a carbon copy ofher, blonde curls, big blue eyes, and a wide smile. Pain splinters my chest, and I suck in a gutting breath. The boys are looking back at me, and Dan thrusts another beer into my hand.
“Drink,” he instructs, and I neck the entire bottle. How is this happening? Any minute now, I will wake up and find myself back at home and not slipping into that painful void again, where she left me.
“I should go speak to her,” I say with uncertainty as that horrible ache spreads through my body and gives me a headache.
“Erm, no. Absolutely not.” Brant puts a hand on my chest. “I can guarantee after everything that happened, she won't want you approaching her.”
“Nothing happened,” I grit, eyeing them all. Their concerned faces turn hard, warning me to stay away. I know they believe me; they had my back throughout the whole shitstorm of my breakup with Holly and the aftermath. I’m not sure what I found more painful—her leaving or the hell that followed.
“It did, though, man. It’s shit, but it’s history. She's obviously moved on, and you need to as well,” Cole murmurs. My throat closes, and I choke back a growl. I drop my gaze, and before the boys can stop me, I'm moving.
The love of my life is metres away, so how can they expect me to ignore her?
I've not seen her in years. Ten, to be exact, but I'm not letting this moment slip away.
Not this time.
She ran from me before. Not again. It's not history. I still feel like it happened yesterday. Those ten years have consolidated into a mere blink for me, and my girl ishere. My lungs open for the first time, and my heart flutters. I recognise the sensation, the emotion. Hope.
That’s not all that I am feeling. I’m too shocked to recognise the slow simmer of anger beneath the surface. The swirl of deeply buried anxiety.
I'm a few feet away when a mouse of a man walks to her and squeezes her shoulder. He's everything I'm not, and it feels like a vice is around my throat. I'm athletic and a little rough around the edges, and this little weasel is sporting a comb-over and fucking sandals. “Pick me up?” the little girl asks him when Holly puts her down, but he ruffles her hair instead.
“You know I can't. I have that bad wrist, sweetie.” The staid prick must know he is punching above his weight, punching hard, because Holly Matthews is every man’s dream. She's beautiful, smart, respectful and fun. She's sexy as damn hell and innocent too. She's the whole package. Long flowing blonde hair, a knockout body, and unusually demure, given how stunning she is.
