Page 67 of Going All In

The weathered colonial frame is only lit by the reflection of the moon in the snow. Most of the windows are dark, but when I pull into the driveway, there’s one upstairs window lit. She’s here. I know it.

I close the front door behind me and turn on a light. There’s a set of stairs just to my right. The upstairs hallway is dark, but a bit of light spills out from one room just beyond the top of the staircase.

“Holly, I’m coming up there.”

There’s no answer. The walls along the staircase are lined with framed photographs, just like my mom’s house. There’s one of a couple. The man looks like a younger Robert. Hell, it probably is. There’s a dark-haired woman with her arms around him, a smile stretched wide across her face. Holly’s mother.

I take a few more steps. There’s one of an infant that must be Holly, of a young Holly with her mother holding flowers, the two of them beaming into the camera.

There’s so much love in this house. I can understand why Holly is heartbroken at the idea of losing it.

The floor creaks at the top of the stairs. “Holly?” I call out again.

The door just to the right of the staircase is slightly open, light coming from within. I push it open gently.

Holly is curled up on a twin bed, fast asleep. Her eyes are red-rimmed from crying. Her body rises and falls softly with her slow, steady breathing.

I sit on the edge of the bed and smooth her hair back. “Holly,” I whisper. “It’s me. It’s Maddox.”

She stirs but doesn’t open her eyes. “Maddox?”

“Yeah, babe. It’s me. I’m here. Wake up.”

She blinks, then rubs her hand across her eyes. “What time is it?”

I smile. “It’s eight o’clock. You’ve been here for less than an hour, but you fell asleep. You okay?”

She licks her lower lip and slowly sits up. “Um. I don’t know.”

I shift, putting my arm around her shoulders. “Your dad told you he was selling the house, huh? Moving in with my mom?”

She nods. Tears glisten in her eyes again.

“That must be really tough.”

She nods again, and a tear spills out. “This was just always home, you know? I feel like…”

She trails off, and I wait silently.

Holly draws in a shaky breath. “Maybe it’s silly. But I kind of feel like my mom is still here, somehow. And if we sell the house, it’s like I’m losing her all over again.”

She dissolves in tears, and I wrap my other arm around her, holding her close. I rub her back while she sobs. It’s several minutes before she pulls back, rubbing her eyes.

Holly murmurs, “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I’m so sentimental.”

“Nothing to be sorry for. I get it, I really do. We’re going to figure out how to fix this, okay?”

“Okay.” She sniffles.

“Now, show me around this house. I want to hear all about your memories of growing up here.”

* * *

We walk around the two-story home, with Holly pointing out her favorite features and sharing memories. It’s a beautiful house, with stained glass in the front door and a secret room between the hallway and the guest room on the first floor.

Holly is giggling as she steps into the small area. “Come on in! It’s small, but this is one of my favorite places in this house.”

I duck my head to step through the opening, turning sideways so my shoulders will fit. There’s not much light in here, but what filters in from the hallway illuminates a bookshelf.

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