Page 47 of Holly versus Mr. Ivy
Chair legs scraped against the wood floor. Then Holly’s hand was rubbing circles on my back. “I’m really sorry for my part in what happened earlier today. Our banter went too far, and that was on me. I should have pulled back, and then Darby wouldn’t have called your uncle and sent him here after you.”
Yes, that had sucked, but we’d never crossed the line. That wasn’t what had me wishing for a black hole to swallow me up. The energy to form sentences and speak was beyond reach.
“It’s fine, Holly. Let’s just move on. Like it never happened.”
Holly’s hand on my back slowed. “Still.”
“That’s not—”Move, tongue. “Later. Can…we…talk…tomorrow?” My words came out slow and muted, spent from the limited talking I’d done already.
“Of course. Are you sick? Is that what’s wrong? Do you need medicine?” Her hand found my cheek, checking for a fever. I wished the answer were that easy.
“Come on. I’m taking you home.” Holly pulled on my arm, trying to get me to move.
“Drive. Later.”
“Everett whatever-your-middle-name-is Ivy,” she scolded, “you are in no condition to drive.” When I didn’t respond, she did, in a softer tone, almost a plea. “Please let me do this for you. After everything that’s happened today, lean on me. You said we worked better as a team. This is me saying it’s my turn to help you, for once.”
But if she took me home, how would I get my truck tomorrow? “Truck.”
“I’ll drop it off to you in the morning at your house, or I can pick you up on the way to work.”
If we arrived together, more people would think we were dating. We couldn’t do that. I’d have Jack help me or hire a car to pick me up. “Fine.”
Holly gave up on trying to help me stand. “Is there anything I need to grab for you before we go?”
“Jacket.” I’d draped my suit coat over the back of my chair when Uncle Anthony had drilled me earlier. My body had overheated the longer he stayed, and my jacket had felt like an oven, burning and strangling me.
“I’ve got it. I need to grab my things from my office, and then I’ll be right back. Okay?”
I grunted.
Holly’s footsteps faded as I stayed in my arm-cocoon. My back hurt from leaning forward so long, but I didn’t move. What was a little discomfort in the grand scheme of things?
“Rhett.” Holly tapped my back. “Let’s go.”
With every last ounce of willpower I possessed, I pushed myself to stand. Holly wrapped her arm around my waist, guiding me out to the parking lot. The cool fall air licked my exposed skin. The salty breeze coming off the ocean teased my nostrils. As if underwater, I registered the rhythmic crash of waves on the boulders next to us, a sound I normally found soothing.
Holly guided me to the ground, or what felt like it, with how low her car was. I barely fit. In normal circumstances, my six-foot-one frame crammed into the passenger seat of a sports car, complete with knees up to my ears, would have made for a good laugh.
I didn’t protest a single thing. In fact, I didn’t speak at all, just rested my head against the headrest and closed my eyes.
Holly kept her words low and smooth, as if she sensed I needed the quiet. “If you’ll give me your address, my phone can give me directions so you can keep resting.”
I mumbled out the information she requested. Before I knew it, Holly was nudging my arm. “We’re here.”
I blinked rapidly, trying to get my heavy eyelids to function properly. Giving up, I squinted at the front of my white Cape Cod home. I’d picked this house before meeting Lexi, back when I’d wanted a family. A dream that, thanks to Holly, wasn’t as dead as I’d believed, but not one I had any ability to think or do anything about. “Thank you.” I unclicked my seatbelt and tried to get out.
Holly took pity on me and came to my rescue. I swung my legs to the side, both feet planted on the sidewalk.
Holly gripped my hands in hers. “On the count of three, okay?”
I think I nodded.
“One. Two. Three.” Holly pulled as hard as she could. I stumbled into her, but she caught me around the waist. “Let’s get you inside.” She led me to my porch. I was grateful she was here, supporting me. If she hadn’t offered to bring me home, I’d most likely have spent the night at the restaurant. Fumbling for my keys, I tried to find the right one.
Holly gently took the keyring out of my hand. “Which one is it?”
“The gold one.” I leaned against the railing, waiting on Holly to open my door. If I hadn’t been in this place before, I would seriously question if I wasn’t coming down with a severe case of the flu since my limbs shook with the effort of standing upright.
