Page 4 of Winter in Kentbury
Every week, there’s another event, another birthday, another thing to celebrate, and while I’m happy for her, it feels like she’s gained a family. However, it also looks as if I’ve lost my best friend.
There’s some muffled talking in the background before she comes back on the line. “I could send Holden Miller to rescue you.”
Holden Miller? She has to be kidding.
“I’m not calling Holden,” I say a little too quickly, my voice sounding more defensive than I intend. “I’d rather walk these flowers to the venue in a blizzard.”
“Come on, Jenna,” she replies, sounding as though she’s speaking to a stubborn child. “What happened between you two was ages ago. He’s back in Kentbury now. You’re going to have tofigure out how to get along with him. This town is way too small to avoid him forever.”
“You’re wrong. I’ve avoided him for six months, and I can keep it up for the rest of my life. No town is too small if you’re invisible, remember?”
Meadow lets out another sigh. “I get it,” she says. “But right now, he’s the only one who can help.”
I press my lips together, refusing to admit she’s right. “Are you absolutely sure you can’t make it out here?”
“Believe me, I’d be there if I could, but it’s impossible. It’s him or no one, Jenna.”
“Fine,” I mutter, clinging to the last shred of hope. “I’ll just call the car shop.”
She sighs again, her tone heavy with patience. “You could, but he’s the one on call. Landon’s celebrating his father-in-law with the rest of us.”
So if Landon’s there, his brother has to be, too, right? “And Holden doesn’t have to be there?”
“Probably not,” she says, her voice almost too chipper. “I just texted you his number. Call him. I have to go, babe. Good luck with the event.” And with that, she hangs up, leaving me to my predicament.
I close my eyes, pinching the bridge of my nose. Calling Holden is the absolute last thing I want to do, but I can’t let the shop lose this job. I can’t afford to. The car shop is my only option, but it doesn’t mean I have to call him.
Then again, what other choice do I have? My grandfather would come if I asked, but dragging him out in this snow just to save the day feels wrong. Irresponsible.
Still, the idea of calling Holden feels impossible. He was my first love, the boy I thought I’d be with forever. He was a senior, just about to head off for the Air Force, and I was fifteen,ready to make it work, no matter what. But that wasn’t what he wanted. I was just another girl, another fling before he left.
There was never anything real between us—at least not to him.
I’ve tried to forget. To let him fade into some dusty corner of my past where he can’t get to me. But with him back in town, it feels like I’m living with a ghost that won’t leave. I’d rather never see him again, let him stay hidden in his vineyard like a hermit, and I’ll keep to my cozy corner of Kentbury.
It’s a win-win, right?
Sometimes, yes, I wonder what it would feel like to run into him as I am now, to have someone by my side and be able to look at him and say, “Look what you missed, Holden. But hey, thanks for the lesson.”
But that hasn’t happened, and it feels like whatever it is that makes a guy see “long-term” material in me must be missing. So instead, I settle for avoiding him, keeping the past neatly packed away.
I stare at the message thread on my phone, Holden’s number glaring back at me. I know I have to call him, or this delivery will never happen, but the thought makes my stomach twist. I had loved him so much, or at least as much as a fifteen-year-old girl can love anyone.
When I lost him, it was like my heart lost its pulse. Losing my parents had cracked it, but his rejection shattered the fragile pieces that were left. And ever since, I haven’t been able to love the same way.
But I put myself back together. It took time, but I did it. I’ve avoided him this long in a town as small as Kentbury. That doesn’t mean I’m ready to see him again though. I’m not sure how I’ll react when I hear his voice, or worse, when I look into his eyes and remember everything I tried so hard to bury.
Reluctantly, I tap his number and press call. My pulse pounds as the phone rings, each ring dragging on until I’m convinced he’s not going to pick up. Just as I’m about to hang up, his deep voice filters through the line.
“Hello?”
“Holden Miller?” I ask, forcing myself to sound detached, like he’s any other business contact.
“Yes. Who is this?” His voice is cautious, and for a moment, I feel like he’s peering through the phone.
There. Calm, collected. Strictly business, I explain the situation I’ve found myself in.
“Where exactly are you?” His voice is low, a little rough around the edges, and I let out a quiet breath. At least he doesn’t sound friendly, it’ll make it easier not to fall for him again.
