I shook my head, glancing at him. He suddenly looked unsure, slightly embarrassed. "It seemed like you needed it," I said. "I didn't mind."
Holden stopped and I did, too, looking at him and wondering why he had halted. He ran his hand through his hair, making me want to touch it again. I knew now it was soft and thick and it would tickle my fingers as it fell between them. "I did. I did need the sleep. The truth is, Lily, I haven't felt real well lately—for too long, actually—and I wanted to spend time with you today, and to thank you for last night, but I also wanted to tell you that I'm going to need to take a week or so to try to feel better. I," he ran his hand through his hair again, "I think I'm ready. I hope . . . well, I hope you'll wait for me, wait for me to explain it to you. I hope you'll trust me." His expression was filled with something that looked like regret or maybe fear. Maybe both.
"It's okay, Holden. You don't owe me anything," I said hesitantly. I was confused about what exactly he was telling me. But the dark circles beneath his eyes, the way he'd tremble sometimes for no apparent reason, told me something wasn't right. Was he an alcoholic? Was it that bad? Or did he have some other sort of illness?
He looked at me for a second, and again, I could see how tired he was, how sad. "Maybe not," he muttered, looking away. "No. No, I do. Even though we barely know each other, you've made me feel peaceful in a way I haven't felt in a very long time. Truthfully, Lily, you've made me want to feel better than I do. And so yes, I do owe you. And I owe you an explanation about why I won't be back for a little bit."
Disappointment filled my chest, but he looked so troubled and confused, and so I grabbed his hand and held it in mine. "It's okay. I understand," I said, even though I didn't entirely. What I did know was that he was struggling, and whatever he was considering, it was taking all his strength to do it. And he'd said he'd be back. And he'd said he wasn't leaving for good—not yet anyway. He had decided he needed to do something difficult, and I wouldn't make it harder on him.
"Yes," I said.
"Yes what?" He tilted his head.
"You asked me if I could trust you and the answer is yes. I trust you." And I did. Inexplicably, perhaps, but I did.
Holden let out a breath. "Thank you. That means a lot." He smiled at me and squeezed my hand. "So how are we going to spend this day? I was hoping you'd have some ideas."
I laughed a small laugh. "Actually, I was going fishing before I heard you calling me." I shrugged my shoulder, indicating the backpack I was carrying.
"There's somewhere to fish around here?"
I nodded, stepping over a fallen branch. "About a mile from here there's a stream."
"What type of fish?"
"Trout."
"Where's your fishing pole?"
"I leave it there if I know I'll be back in a day or two. There are only a handful of days left to fish."
As we stepped into a clearing, the sight of something moving caught my eye and I looked across the open space to see a male elk—a bull—mounted on a female. I'd seen animals mating plenty of times before, but for some reason standing there watching it with Holden felt . . . strange. It made my skin tingle and my nipples harden and it made me intensely aware of him beside me. It made me intensely aware of his maleness.
Suddenly the day seemed overly bright, the sun very warm upon my skin. I looked up into Holden's face and saw him looking in the same direction . . . and his cheekbones were flushed. He caught my eye and then raised his eyebrows and laughed in that self-conscious way he sometimes did. I found it incredibly appealing. He had called himself a god among men, and yet his expressions spoke of a man who was self-conscious, almost shy. I wasn't sure who the real Holden was just yet. I wondered if he even knew himself.
"I think we might be intruding."
I let out a breath. "I think you're right. Here, let's go this way." He followed me as I took an alternate route, and we walked in silence for a while, both of us lost in our own thoughts, me trying to regain the relaxed feeling I'd had only moments ago.
I remembered back to him yelling on his deck about how lusted after he was, how he could start pimping himself out. I suddenly wondered exactly what that meant. I hadn't caught every word of what he'd been saying as there'd been a lot of slurring, but I thought I understood the gist of it: women wanted him, and he rarely said no. Women. Plural. Whatever life Holden Scott came from, there were lots of women waiting for him. I stopped suddenly, causing Holden to come up short, and I turned toward him. He had been right on my heels and now we were face to face. I cleared my throat. "I . . ."
"What is it?" he asked, concern in his expression.
I pressed my lips together, not knowing how to ask him the questions I wanted to ask, not knowing how to get the reassurance I needed. What exactly did I need to be reassured of? I wanted to know if he thought about kissing me as much as I thought about kissing him. I wanted to tell him that I'd never kissed a man before. "I heard what you said, on your deck, most of it anyway, about the women . . . you . . . well—"
"Christ," he interrupted me, putting his hands in his pockets. "I really made an ass of myself that night, didn't I?"
"Um, I—"
"You don't have to answer that. It was rhetorical." He paused, a frown creasing the skin between his brows as he glanced around the forest. "I did. I made an utter ass out of myself. The truth is I've been making an ass out of myself for a really long time. But I want to stop doing that." He looked back at me. "What I meant earlier, and the reasons I'll have to stay away from you for a little while, is that I'm going to stop doing things that lead me to acting like the ass I was that night. I'm sorry you had to be a witness to any of it. I'm ashamed of that because that's not who I want to be."