Page 66 of Finding Denver
I let out a terrified exhale as Holly pulls herself free from the stranger and sobs as she runs to me. I sweep her into my arms and she cries into my neck.
“You left me!” she cries. “Why did you leave me!”
“I’m sorry, baby.” I hold onto her. She’s never felt so small, so vulnerable. “I’m so sorry.”
I never should have let tonight happen. I knew in my gut it was the wrong thing to do. I shake my head and hold her closer, smelling her strawberry shampoo, feeling her tiny body trembling in my arms.
I never should have left her.
Footsteps approach and Denver whirls, but Charlie appears at the door. “It’s clear, but we need to go, now.”
I nod and hold my hand out. Denver takes it, holding onto me as tightly as Holly does. There’s too much commotion to get the cars. We’d never get anywhere fast. So, withHolly in my arms and Denver’s hand in mine, we walk quickly through the busy streets. Lewis is close, Charlie is giving orders to the men around us, and we leave the mess behind and go home.
Holly istearful as I pull the covers up to her chin.
This was what I wanted to prevent, but the only way I can do that is by keeping her inside forever. Locking her up isn’t the best thing to do, I know that, but I also can’t stand how she looks right now. Her panda face paint is washed away, but her eyes are red rimmed, her blue irises shining as she stares up at me.
“Talk to me, baby,” I say. “What are you thinking about?”
Her bottom lip trembles, her chin dimpling. “It was loud.”
She doesn’t understand the noise, or what happened, and I can’t explain it to her without scaring her further. “I know. But it’s quiet now.”
“Forever?”
No. Not forever. She’ll always be a target because she’s a Harland, and the older she gets, the more she’ll want her freedom. Like Denver said, she fought against her security, and Holly will do the same.
I didn’t grow up like this. I can’t pass on knowledge or kind words my parents said to me, because I was sixteen the first time someone shot at me, and I’d shot first. I was terrified but old enough to know what a bullet meant.
Holly’s eyes shift behind me. “Hi Denver.”
I look over my shoulder at Denver standing in the doorway. She still somehow looks totally put together—hairresting over one shoulder, clothes not dotted with blood like mine had been. The only sign that she went through anything tonight is what I see in her eyes, something I saw in my own expression when I caught a glimpse of myself in the hall mirror—fear for Holly.
She approaches and sits on Holly’s other side, leaning on her hand. The memory of that hand in mine, the way she clung to me while appearing to keep it together in front of everyone else, might stay with me forever.
“Tonight was busy, wasn’t it?” Denver asks. Holly nods. “I’ve had busy nights too. It’s scary. Makes your ears hurt.”
“Yeah,” Holly says.
Denver shifts closer. “You know what’s good, though? It isn’t busy in here.” She points around the room. “You have everything you like. Name some things you love most about here.”
Holly glances around. “My desk.”
“It’s a great desk,” Denver says.
“My unicorn.” She squeezes her unicorn plush in her arms.
Denver smiles. I look between them both and say nothing.
“One more thing,” Denver says, adjusting the covers.
Holly smiles. “Uncle Colt.”
“Great answers,” Denver says, smiling at me before returning her attention to Holly. “So, when things are busy sometimes, you remember those three things. And it’s quieter. And if you ever think about the busyness, you talk to your daddy, or Uncle Colt, or Nanny Helena. Anyone you want. Okay?”
Holly nods.
“Do you want us to stay?” I ask, but she shakes her head. I swallow the lump in my throat. “Do you want yourstories on?” She nods and nestles into the pillow, and I turn on her speaker.
