Page 16 of Winter in Kentbury
She doesn’t respond right away. “Holden,” she says softly, her voice wavering, “I don’t know what happens next. I’m scared.”
I pull over to the side of the road and as I put the truck in Park I say, “I’m scared too.” And before I know it, I’m leaning over, capturing her lips in a kiss that’s softer, but no less desperate than last night. She kisses me back, her fingers threading through my hair as she pulls me closer, and in that moment, the world outside the truck fades away, leaving only the two of us, wrapped in the warmth of each other.
As we finally pull apart, our breaths mingling in the cold air, I realize that there’s a future for us after all. I just need to get help and make sure I can be the man she deserves.
The wedding is only a few hours away, and all I want is to get her there on time. I know how much is riding on this job. Losing the flower shop would destroy her, and the thought crosses my mind to just send her the money she needs, anonymously, to keep it afloat. But I know Jenna—she’d figure out it was me in no time and send it right back. So I toss that idea aside and keep driving, jaw clenched against the awkward silence filling the truck.
Unable to bear it any longer, I reach over and turn on the radio. Immediately, I regret it. The song that starts playing is our song—the one that played the last night before I left town. I can still remember the feel of her hand in mine, the way her smile made everything else fade away. I should’ve done something then, but I’d been too afraid, too stupid, to risk losing the friendship. Funny how that worked out—I ruined it by doing nothing. With a sigh, I reach to change the station, settling on a classic rock channel. Black Sabbath fills the truck. Safer ground.
“That was a really good night, you know,” Jenna says, her voice breaking the silence. “Except for when you basically told me to fuck off.”
“Yeah. It was one of the best. Definitely a top ten.” I nod, keeping my eyes on the road. “Look, I know I messed things up back then, and I’m sorry. But things feel . . . right. Better. I want this. I want you.”
The air goes still as I wait, heart pounding. I don’t know what I expected her to say, but it sure as hell wasn’t what came out of her mouth.
“Holden, I want what I want as I said before. I just don’t know if we can. Especially if neither of us are not willing to move on from the past.”
The words hit like a gut punch. My hands grip the wheel, knuckles white, as I swallow the lump forming in my throat. After everything we shared back at the house, I didn’t expect this. But I can’t let her see the hurt—it’ll only make her feel guilty. I force my voice to stay steady, trying to keep the tremor from seeping through.
“Why?” I ask, glancing at her out of the corner of my eye. “You said you wanted to put the past behind us. You said you wanted to trust me again. Was that a lie?”
She doesn’t answer right away, just stares out the window, fingers twisting in her lap. “I’m sorry about what I said back there. I shouldn’t have led you on like that. It was a mistake.”
I know what she’s doing—trying to protect herself, trying to put up walls before I can break them down. But I don’t believe her, not for a second. I’ve seen the look in her eyes when she thought I wasn’t looking. I’ve felt the way her hand lingered on mine, as if she needed me just as much as I need her. Still, I don’t push her. I know her well enough to know that any pressure will just make her retreat further.
“I don’t think you were leading me on, Jenna,” I say, my voice quiet but firm. “I think you meant every word. I think you’re just trying to find reasons for why this won’t work.”
I watch her from the corner of my eye, hoping for any sign that she’ll respond, that she’ll admit what I know she feels. But she doesn’t blink, doesn’t react, doesn’t give me anything to hold on to. The silence stretches between us, thick and unyielding. I want to pull over, to shake her until she lets herself feel what’s there between us, but I know that’s not how this works.
I grip the wheel tighter, focusing on the road ahead, the snow blowing across it in icy sheets that make every mile feel like a battle. But with each mile we put between us and that house, my heart aches a little more. Once we get to the venue, I’ll have to walk away from her. Again.
And this time, I’m not sure I’ll have the strength to do it.
“I’m sorry, Holden. I really am,” she says softly, her voice barely audible over the hum of the engine.
I don’t respond, don’t even look at her. Instead, I reach over and turn up the radio, letting the music drown out the silence, drown out the hurt. She shifts, taking out her phone, her eyes fixed on it as though it’s the most interesting thing in the world.
Maybe it’s harsh to shut her out like this, but right now, it’s all I can do to keep myself together. I tell myself I’ll be fine oncewe reach Silver Pines. Maybe by then, I’ll have a handle on this mess.
But as we drive, my heart pounds with the desperate hope that she’ll change her mind, that she’ll take my hand, look me in the eyes, and admit that she still wants this.
Chapter Ten
Jenna
I turnin my seat to face him, heart pounding, knowing I’m about to bare everything, hoping he’ll listen.
“I need to talk to you, and I need you to just . . . listen,” I plead, my voice barely above a whisper.
He hesitates, eyes darting between me and the road. “Okay. Say what you need to say.”
He sounds guarded, his voice distant, and for a second, I’m afraid nothing I say will make a difference. But I can’t hold this back. Not anymore.
“I didn’t mean to hurt you, Holden,” I start, my voice catching. “I know it probably doesn’t matter now, but you deserve to know why I am the way I am. Why I said what I said.”
“Jenna, it’s okay,” he interrupts, his tone softer than I expected, his eyes fixed on the road. “You don’t owe me an explanation. People change their minds. Maybe you didn’t mean it when you said those things at the house, maybe it was just . . . in the heat of the moment. Whatever the reason was, it’s okay.”
But I shake my head, not willing to let him dismiss it so easily. “No, I need to say this. Please, just . . . let me finish.”
