Page 32 of Tracing Holland

“Not possible,” she snickers, and I can’t stop the grin that spreads across my lips.

Even without looking, I can sense her watching me.I feel her eyes all over my body in the saturated silence, exploring me the same way I’ve explored her in a constant, exasperating loop.I’ve seen it several times over the last couple days, suffered the effects, but I can’t be critical.I’d be doing the same if I weren’t using all my energy to keep mine closed.

“Patrick,” I blurt against the silence, finally letting go and looking at her.

Her expression is about what I expected, and I smile.“My middle name.Luke Patrick Craven.”

She doesn’t respond at first.I can tell that one word means a lot to her, and I feel good about my gift.

“I like that,” she says finally, her eyes connecting with mine.

I nod, and lean back again.“It was my father’s name.Patrick.”

“Were you and he close?”she asks.“You mentioned him the other day with the guitar.”

I take a breath.“Yeah.He died when I was eleven.”

“I’m so sorry, Luke,” she says, and I can hear the compassion in her voice.It scares me a little, what her empathy does to me.

I just shrug.“It was a long time ago.”

“Yeah, but still.I’m pretty close to my parents.That had to be hard.”

I focus on her again.My heart is racing at the direction of this conversation, but for some reason, I’m still here.I haven’t run yet.Maybe I won’t for once.

“It was.I was very close to my dad.”

“What about your mom?”

A harsh laugh escapes before I can stop it.“Yeah, right.No.Not my mom.”

She’s studying me with a disturbing intensity, and I sigh.I’ve invited this.It’s my own fault.

“She was a junkie,” I explain.“Not much interest in kids.”

I look away again.I can’t handle her expression, and I’m not surprised when she doesn’t respond.It’s my stupid sob story, I know.There’s a reason I hate talking about my past.It does nothing but make all of us regret the conversation in the first place.I didn’t even get to the bad part.

“Anyway, what about you?”I ask before things get too awkward.

She shakes her head.“We’re talking about you.So how’d you end up here?”

I stare at her in disbelief.Even Callie doesn’t push this hard.“Trust me, you don’t want to know any more than you do.”

“Oh, trust me, I do,” she returns.“Actually, I can’t think of anything I want to know more at the moment.”She’s not flirting.She’s completely serious, and my stomach drops.There are precious few people on this planet who know more than what I’ve just told her.

“What do you want to know?”I manage finally.

Her smile softens me in ways I’ll never understand.“How about we start with what you’re willing to tell me, and work our way up from there.”

I return her smile and shake my head, knowing my walls are in for the assault of a lifetime.“You’re optimistic.”

“And you’re stalling.Talk.How’d you end up here?”

I draw in a deep breath.“Ok, fine.My mom hooked up with some other junkie loser after my dad died, they made my life a living hell for a few years, then finally decided even that was too much, and shipped me off to her sister in Houston.”

“Houston?Wow, that’s far.Aren’t you from Johannesburg or something?”

I glance at her in surprise, unable to stop my grin.“You did your research, I see.”

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