Page 33 of Tracing Holland

“Well, when your manager says you’re touring with Night Shifts Black, yeah, you do research.You didn’t look me up?”

I’m actually a bit embarrassed and give her a shy shrug.“Sorry.”

She only laughs and shakes her head.“Wow.Thanks.”

“If it makes you feel any better, I believe my exact words when our manager told us we’d be touring with you were, ‘Sweet.They’re legit,’” I offer in exchange.“Bringing you on board was actually Casey’s idea.He’s been impressed with you guys and told TJ to make it happen.”

Holland looks pleased, and I love that I’ve made up for my previous disappointment.“Really?Wow.I’m honored.Casey is extremely talented.”

“And has excellent taste,” I add, but regret it when her direct gaze and grateful smile shred my shield again.

“And, now you’re back to stalling.Keep going.”

I sigh.“You got the story.There’s not much else.”

“Yeah, right,” she smirks.“You’ve barely started.I want to hear the rest.All of it.”

I grunt.“Really?Come on.”My tone was too dark.I immediately know my deflection has failed, which only makes me defensive.

“Yes, really.I want to hear about your childhood, your dad, your junkie mom.”

“No, I guarantee you don’t.No one wants to hear about that shit.”

“It’s not ‘shit’ to me.”

“It doesn’t even matter anymore.”

“Of course it matters!And the fact that you refuse to talk about it shows how much.”

She’s being way too pushy, and I hate that I can’t hate her for it.I especially hate the fact that she’s so genuine, part of me feels like she’s earned the question.And all of that just makes the other part want to punish her with the answer.I feel my muscles tense, my heart harden as my grimace spreads into a glare.

“Really.So you want details about what it’s like to be an eleven-year-old kid forced to take care of yourself and two adults who hate everything about you and wish you didn’t exist?About getting pushed around, going hungry, being told you’re a worthless piece-of-shit who should probably just disappear.That’s how we’re going to spend our afternoon at the beach?”

I stop.Suck in air.Something just happened and I can’t look at her.I know I won’t like what I see.

“Yeah, I do,” she replies quietly after a long silence, and I glance up.Her eyes reach deep inside of me, and before I can fight it, I feel something softening.It’s almost painful as the strength in her gaze mixes with what I think might be tears in her eyes.It’s hard to tell in a hot tub.“I really do, Luke,” she whispers.

I swallow, terrified of the fact that I might actually share my story with her.Most of that part was off limits even to Dr.Flynn.I think she senses my hesitation, that she’s losing me, and moves to close the physical distance between us.My stomach is in knots, from her, from the memories.The ancient pain.When she takes my hand, I’m not sure what to do with the war raging inside me.

“Why Houston?How did your mother’s sister get to Houston?”

We’re compromising.I sigh, grateful.That one’s much easier.

“That’s where she’s from.”

“Who?”

“Both, really.My mom and her sister.”

Holland straightens in surprise, and I almost laugh at her look.“Wait.Your mom is American?”

I grin and nod.“Yes.So am I.”

“Um…ok, I don’t remember reading that.But your dad wasn’t, obviously.”

I shake my head.“No.They met in Johannesburg while my mom was modeling, so we lived there.”

“Is your mom still alive?”

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