Page 49 of Holly versus Mr. Ivy
“Stop trying to phrase it nicely and spit it out.”
“Chaotic. Frazzled. Outgoing.”
I sucked in a breath. Noah was the complete opposite and couldn’t stand disorganized people. “So she’s attractive, but you don’t necessarily see a future with her?”
“Whoa. It’s way too soon to be talking about any of that. I merely said I met a beautiful woman. That’s where this story ends.”
“Or is it?” I teased. It was easier for me to concentrate on his new lady than on Rhett.
“For now.”
I had a feeling Noah needed someone exactly like this woman. “What’s her name?”
“Joy.”
Nice. “All right. I hope to meet Joy sometime.” And see if her personality matched her name.
“I make no promises since, as I said, I just met her. We night not even cross paths again.”
For his sake, I hoped they did. “Riiight. I need to get some sleep. Thanks for talking to me.”
“Anytime, Hols.”
“’Night.”
“Sweet dreams, cousin.”
We hung up, and I pulled out my latest book, needing to get lost in someone else’s world and stop stressing over mine. Especially when it came to Rhett.
Chapter 20
Rhett
Despitewantingtosleepall day, I’d promised Jack I would exercise with him this morning. I forced myself out of bed and got ready to see my best friend, whose life had been filled with more valleys than peaks since I’d known him.
The entire time I was getting dressed, I kept thinking about last night. How my meeting with Uncle Anthony had pushed me over the edge and my anxiety had become so much that I couldn’t do anything except focus on breathing. Humiliation at Holly seeing me in that state burned my lungs. I knew Holly wasn’t Lexi. Holly actually cared, as she’d proven last night. But that still didn’t mean I wanted to discuss what had happened with Holly. Eventually, I’d have to tell her. Just not anytime soon.
I called a rideshare company to take me to the restaurant to pick up my truck, then headed to my best friend’s house for a much-needed endorphin rush.
When I pulled into Jack’s driveway, his garage door was open, letting in the cool air. Getting out of my truck, I went into the garage, but it was empty. Rapping my knuckles on the door into the house, I twisted the knob and called out, “Jack? You ready, man?”
I walked into his kitchen to find Jack standing at the sink, a water bottle in one hand and his other holding his cell to his ear.
“Sorry,” I whispered. I took a seat on the pleather barstool at the kitchen counter. Jack’s house wasn’t as modern as mine, but he kept it clean and orderly. Nice to know his current situation hadn’t made him give up on cleaning his home—like I did when dealing with my depression. I’d left my bed unmade, dishes in the sink, and clothes strewn about the floor just this morning because somehow picking up after myself had overwhelmed me. Even though seeing the mess when I got home tonight would only make me feel worse.
Moving on, Rhett. We’re focusing on Jack and getting out of your own head.
I pulled out my phone, playing a racing game, waiting for Jack to end his call. My elbows rested on the gold and brown granite countertop, my cell in between my hands. Bear barked from his backyard. Maybe I should go throw a ball around with him instead of sitting here waiting for Jack.
“Thank you. I appreciate the offer. I’ll be there Monday,” Jack said. “Yep. Thanks again. Bye.”
Still staring at my phone, I asked, “What was that about?”
He sighed, and I looked at him. His hair stood up at odd angles. Purple bags shadowed his eyes. My heart squeezed at the sight of his disheveled state, especially since I looked about the same.
He tapped his phone against his palm. “I took a job stocking shelves at the grocery store.”
My eyes widened. A teenager’s job? “Why?” Jack was a talented baker. He could open his own bakery, a food truck, or be a pastry chef at a restaurant. It didn’t make sense.
