Page 59

Shyanne nods. “Yeah, he’s going to make it. But you’re going to be by his side the whole way to the top.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because he’s Holt. And he loves you.”

It doesn’t make me feel better.

I should never have given air to that ember of hurt I’ve been feeling at coming second to hockey when Holt always comes first for me. Now, it’s only going to grow.

I close the front door as Shyanne and Andy climb into her sister’s car. They’ll go grab Shy’s car from Kevin’s where she left it the night before. As for me, I have a headache and my heart feels a little heavy. A little sore.

I think I woke up a little hung over, but Mom made us her homemade waffles for breakfast, so that helped that. At least a little.

As I enter the kitchen, Mom slides a glass of orange juice and a Tylenol across the counter. She doesn’t bother to fight her smirk as she orders, “Take this.”

I don’t bother to pretend I don’t need it.

“I’m proud of you for making sure you got home safely.” Mom stretches plastic wrap over the stack of leftover waffles. “But I want you to know that you can call me and Dad, too.”

“I know.”

“We know you’re getting older, Faye. We know you’re going to drink.”

“I know.”

“We just want you to know that we’re here. No matter how old or what kind of pickle you end up in. We’re always going to be here for you.”

I round the island and step into Mom’s hug. “Thank you.”

I really needed a hug from my mom. I didn’t realize quite how much until this moment.

As though sensing that, Mom holds me tighter. She strokes my hair and rubs my back and doesn’t let go until I make that move first. When I do, assessing brown eyes the color of golden honey land on me.

I got Mom’s eyes.

“How about we close the curtains and watch rom coms all day long? We can gorge on the trashy snacks you girls didn’t eat last night until we feel like we’re going to vomit, and then we’ll order Chinese food?”

“You’re the best mom in the whole world.” Seriously, she is, though.

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

I bob my head, trying hard not to cry.

26

SHATTER LIKE GLASS

AUGUST 2008 – 16 YEARS OLD

Holt’s truck swings into his driveway across the street and I close my book in my lap, watching from where I sit on the swing Dad bought Mom for the patio. It’s my day off from working at Dad’s shop, so I’m taking full advantage of it. I’m on a new vampire series that’s even better than the first. It’s based in college, and it is addictive.

But it’s not as addictive as Holt.

His door swings open and he slides down from the driver’s seat looking hot enough to ignite sparks in the August heat. His jeans hang low on his hips, showing off the thick band of his boxers as he leans into the cab of the truck for his shirt. He refuses to wear it when it’s hot like this. As often as he can, he’s shirtless. He works shirtless, mows the lawn shirtless, and just goes around in general shirtless.

I don’t move as his head swings in the direction of my house. First, he squints up at my window and my heart does a little flip, because he hasn’t seen me yet.

Then he looks down. When his eyes land on mine, the whole world just falls away.