Never Let You Go (a modern fairytale) (35 page)

Smart and strong
.

She wiped away a tear and took as deep a breath as possible, flinching from the pain in her chest and her heart. Because as much as she loved Holden, she still needed to live her life, get an education, be useful, write stories, help others. No, she’d never fall in love again, because on the day of her last dying, gasping breath, it would be Holden’s name on her lips. But she could still have a life. After everything she’d endured, she
deserved to have a life.

The thought made her eyes well and her breath catch with surprise.

She
deserved
to have a life.

For so many years, she’d convinced herself that by leading Holden into that truck and leaving him behind on the Shenandoah, she didn’t deserve anything good. She deserved every dark, awful thing that befell her. But now, healing through the power of his love and forgiveness, she’d started forgiving herself. And right here, right now, she was giving herself permission to pursue a good life, and Sabrina McClellan was, as Maya had pointed out, offering it to her on a silver freaking platter.

She would always love Holden.

She would always want Holden.

But until she could have him, she was going to live the best-possible version of her life, and one day—
hopefully one day
—they’d find their way back to each other again.

The door to her room squeaked open, and she looked up to see Holden walking in, his dirty-blond hair slick and orderly. His lips—his beautiful lips that had loved her body with such tenderness and passion at the cabin—tilted up into an expectant grin as he drew closer, brandishing a bouquet of flowers from behind his back. They were mostly yellow and lavender like the wildflowers in the meadow where she’d fallen in love with him all over again and for the first time and forever. And as he handed them to her, her eyes flashed to his forearm, where she saw “H+G” etched into his skin and stained in black, right beside the rendering of her face. Her initials. Her face. Her heart beating in his chest. His beating in hers.

She took the flowers from him and smelled them with pleasure, but her eyes never left his, because after today she didn’t know when she would see him again, and aside from the pleasure she felt in his company, there was an aching urgency to remember every stolen second, so she could live on them when they were separated once again.

He seemed to search her face, scanning it slowly, and she felt the heat and tenderness in his gaze as he paused on her eyes, her cheeks, her lips.

“I love you,” he said.

“I love you too.”

“I have until tomorrow morning at eight.”

“That’s more time than I thought.”

He was so big and stunningly beautiful. She knew how that body loved, how it moved as it loved her, how gentle it could be despite its strength. In ripped jeans and a T-shirt, all hard, strong man with tattoos covering his arms, it was a challenge to see the freckled, blond-haired boy who’d volunteered to walk to the store with her so long ago.

I’ll g-g-go t-too.

How far they’d come, together then apart.

How much farther they had to go, apart before together.

“Can you move over?” he asked, coming around to the side of the bed.

She moved very slowly and managed to make a little room for him.

“How’re your ribs?”

“They hurt.”

He slipped onto the bed beside her, putting his arm around her, and her whole body melted into his.

“What’d the doc say this morning? How much longer will you be here?”

“I can leave the day after tomorrow. The swelling in my head’s gone down a lot, but they want two more nights for observation, and they’ll do one more MRI before I’m discharged.” She looked up at him. “I got worried about the hospital bills. Jonah doesn’t have much. I’d need to go after his parents’ estate for the bills and I think it’s bankrupt. But then I found out the McClellans have taken care of everything.”

“They’re amazing,” said Holden. “I never knew rich people could be so . . . good.”

“They invited me to stay in this apartment they have at their house.”

He rubbed her arm, and she lowered her head to his chest, lining up her ear over his heart.

“That sounds great, Gris.”

“And I’ve been thinking about going to college this fall.”

“You should.”

“You think?”

“Hell, yes. Take those writing courses. Show your stories to someone. P-promise me you’ll go. No matter what.”

She nodded against his T-shirt. “I promise.”

She felt his lips touch down on her head, the soft smacking noise of them pursing and kissing her hair, and she closed her eyes, savoring his tenderness, trying to forget how little time they had left together.

“What about you?” she asked. “Back to Gemma? And the baby?”

He sighed. “Funny you ask . . .”

Her eyes opened, and she felt her eyebrows knit together. “Funny? How?”

“I’ve got some plans too.”

“Plans?”

“Uh-huh.”

She could hear it in his voice, even in those two little words. The hope. The expectation. She leaned back a little and looked up at his face. “Tell me.”

He dropped his lips to hers and kissed her gently, holding her upper lip between his for several seconds of sweetness before releasing it. “Someday I’m gonna do that whenever I want to.”

“Promise?”

He nodded solemnly, his gaze never flinching. “I promise, angel.”

A rush of relief filled her heart, washing away her previous worries about Gemma.

“Tell me your news, Holden.”

“I was useless when you left Charles Town, Gris. D-drinking. Hating Gemma. D-damn near hating my unborn baby. I couldn’t see a way out, a way to happiness. And it’s not that I deserve happiness, but I don’t want him or her to be ashamed of me. I don’t want you to be ashamed of me.”

“Holden, I could never—”

“Shhh,” he said, placing a finger over her lips. “Let me finish.”

“Okay.”

“
I
don’t want to be ashamed of me anymore. I want to
do
something with my life. And that’s because of you, Gris.” He swallowed, looking at her with so much love it was almost blinding, but she didn’t dare look away. “You made me want to live again.”

Her lips trembled, and a tear rolled down her cheek, but she didn’t interrupt him.

“You’re the girl, Gris. You’re it for me. I’ll do right by my child, but as soon as I can, I’m coming to find you. And when I do, I’ll have something to offer you. Something good. A good life. A life I’ll be proud of. A life you can be proud of.”

She searched his eyes, her heart flipping over with the same hope and expectation she’d heard in his voice. “Tell me.”

“I met a Marine recruiter yesterday. He told me all about the Marines, and last night, while you were sleeping, I went on my phone and read everything I could. And Gris? It’s what I want. I want to learn how to fight for my country. I want to learn a skill. I want to make a difference. I want to make you proud.”

“I
am
,” she sobbed, her heart swelling with emotion for this man who’d been through so much but had found the courage and strength to do something positive with his life. “I’m already proud. I couldn’t be prouder, Holden.”

“I’m enlisting tomorrow, Gris.”

She stared up at him. It was a bold and decisive plan—to join the armed forces—but she could see in his face how much it meant to him. Every cell in her body wanted him to know how terribly proud she was, but one loose end that frightened her for him made her whisper, “Gemma . . .”

He placed his palm on her cheek, smiling at her tenderly.

“Gemma didn’t want me to be with you. And I won’t be. But I don’t want to be with her either. I can’t make her happy, and she can’t make me happy, because there’s only one woman in the world who I want, and I’m sorry, but it just isn’t Gemma.

“So, while she’s pregnant, I’ll stay away from you—I’ll be in boot camp, then training. I’ll have ten days off in November to go see her and the baby, and she’ll get regular money from me to take care of her expenses. She can have my apartment all to herself, and I will always do my duty by her and the child. But once that baby’s born and I’ve established my parental rights?” His eyes bored into hers, his expression fierce and unwavering. “I’m coming for you, Griselda Schroeder. You can bet I’ll be coming.”

Tears streamed down her face as she understood his plan. It wasn’t just for her or his child, but for them—for them to bear their separation and to have a real start at a real life together at its end.

“It’s true that I’ll be leaving you tomorrow morning, angel, but tomorrow isn’t an end. I swear to you with everything I am and everything that I’ll ever be: tomorrow is just the b-beginning. It’s the first day of a journey that ends with us together.”

“Together,” she sobbed softly, holding his gray eyes with her blue.

“Forever, Griselda. Once you’re mine, I’ll never let you go.”

“I already belong to you.”

He dropped his head, and his lips touched down on hers again, gently, then more insistently as his tongue parted the seam of her lips and swept into her mouth. She wanted to turn her body into his, but it hurt too much to move, so she kept her face upturned as he kissed her.

“And I’ve always been yours,” he whispered fiercely against her lips. “From the first day you smiled at me in the Fillmans’ upstairs hallway, holding a blue toothbrush and looking worried.”

“Will you write to me?” she asked.

He kissed her before sitting up and guiding her head to his heart. “I’d love to, and I will. But it just isn’t fair.”

“What isn’t?”

“You’re the writer. Your letters will be ten times better than mine.”

“Yours will be wonderful. Tell me what you’re doing, what it’s like, what you’re learning, who you meet. I want to know everything, Holden. I don’t want to miss a thing.”

“And you do the same,” he said, his voice certain and strong, love and hope infusing it with warmth. “Tell me all about Sabrina and Prudence, and keep me updated about Maya’s Twizzler habit. Tell me which college you choose, and send me stories, Gris. Promise you’ll send me stories I can read before I go to sleep at night. Prince Twilight, Princess Moonlight, Lady Starlight and the Sun King. They’re going to end up together, right?”

She shook her head, refusing to give away spoilers. “I’ll send them. I promise.”

“And when I go to sleep at night,” he said, turning over the arm he had draped around her shoulders to reveal their initials, “I’ll keep my fingers over the letters. Always. Every night.”

Me too
, she thought, looking carefully at his tattoo and making a decision to get her own, so that she could go to sleep every night with her fingers over the letters too.

“We’re going to make it, Gris,” he said.

“I jump, you jump,” she answered.

“Only this time,” he said, pressing his lips to her hair, “we’ll
b-both
make it to the other side.”

Moving into the McClellans’ apartment proved easier than Griselda had expected. With Maya’s help, the McClellans had arranged for all her belongings to be boxed up and delivered while Griselda was still recovering in the hospital. By the time she arrived at the McClellans’, all of her things had been moved and lovingly unpacked, so the apartment truly felt like home.

Holden had left her early on Monday morning, heading to Baltimore for his appointment with Lieutenant Jones, and sent her a quick text later that day:

I scored 105 on the ASVAB, which means I can do artillery. Will see doc in Aug and be sworn in. (It’s called MEPS.) We should have an acronym too. How about IMYLCILYF?

Knowing that Holden had been worried about the ASVAB test, which measures a potential Marine’s aptitude for certain jobs and weighs heavily in placement, she was relieved he did well and had smiled at her phone from her hospital bed.

I’m so proud of you, but you already know that. What is IMYLCILYF?

A moment later her phone had pinged:

I miss you like crazy. I love you forever.

Her eyes teared up, and she typed back quickly.

IMYLCILYF.

She hadn’t heard from him since, and that was almost a week ago, but they had agreed not to be in regular communication over the next couple of months, while Holden was living with Gemma and Griselda was settling into her new life at the McClellans’. And it had been her decision, which he lovingly respected.

“Gris,” he’d said, nestled together in her hospital bed the night before he left her. “I want to talk about the next few months.”

“I don’t,” she answered, her heart squeezing at the thought of the long separation ahead of them.

“Angel, I won’t be able to see you for about five months. We’ve got to talk about it.”

“Stop,” she said, her pulse quickening and her eyes clenching shut.

“We’ve endured worse, and we’ve survived,” he plowed on, tightening his arm around her shoulders. “We’re going to be okay.”

“I hate it,” she said. “I just found you, and now I’m losing you again.”

“You’re not losing me. I’m yours.”

For how long?
she wondered. He had two months at home in West Virginia with Gemma. Then swearing in. Then boot camp. So much could happen between then and now.

“Can I ask you to do something for me?”

“Anything,” he said.

The thought of him with Gemma was what bothered Griselda the most. She was the mother of his child, and she was living in his apartment. In extremely close quarters. What if Holden decided—after a few weeks—that he wanted to give her another chance? Griselda couldn’t begrudge his child the chance to have a loving, intact family, but she wouldn’t be able to bear feeling him pull away, an apologetic tone in his writing, his messages coming less and less frequently. It would cycle her into an intense depression when what she needed right now was to get her life back on track with a move, college classes, and a part-time job. She felt an overwhelming need to insulate herself a little, for protection.

She took a deep breath. “Don’t write to me until you go to boot camp.”

“W-what?”

She swallowed over the lump in her throat. “Go home and be good to Gemma. Make sure she and the baby are healthy. Get ready for the Marines. And when you get there, if I’m still part of your plan, let me know.”

“Griselda, you
are
the plan.”

“I . . . I know,” she said, leaning back to look up into his beloved gray eyes. “But please. Don’t write to me while you’re with her.”

“Damn it, Gris, I have no intention of b-being
w-with
her.”

She didn’t answer, only stared up at him, begging him with her eyes to understand.

“Fine,” he finally relented, his face looking pained. “Fine. On the bus to boot camp, I’ll write my first letter.”

And if I get that letter
, she thought,
I’ll know our journey to forever has truly begun.

Sitting on the plush, beautiful bed in her new bedroom, she picked up her phone and clicked on the week-old text from him, wondering where he was and what he was doing. She wondered if he thought about her as much as she thought about him, and she wished for the day her phone pinged again with the news that he was headed to boot camp and she was still first in his heart.

Placing the pads of her fingers over the words she’d already read a hundred times, she heard his voice in her head:

I miss you like crazy. I love you forever.

Oh, please, God,
she thought, leaning back on her bed as she felt phantom fingers worshipping her body and remembered his warm breath fanning the skin of her neck.
Please let it be so.

***

Holden still hadn’t told Gemma about enlisting.

Well,
he reasoned,
it was hard to tell someone anything when you barely saw her.

He spent as little time at the apartment as possible, going to work early and, since returning from Baltimore, eschewing drinking for working out. Visiting the shitty little boxing gym off Norbert Road every night, he refused to get in the ring and fight, but he worked his body relentlessly. Partially he did this because when he went for his MEPS—his physical examination and swearing in—in August, he wanted to be shipped off to boot camp right away, and he knew he needed to be in top-notch physical shape for the Marines to honor that request. And also because the compulsion to reach out to Griselda was so strong and so hard to combat, it was best if he was bone weary by the end of the day, with no moment to think between his head hitting the pillow and his eyes closing in sleep.

It had been four weeks now since he’d kissed her tenderly, over and over again, before leaving her hospital room and heading to Baltimore to meet with Lieutenant Jones. She had tried not to cry as they said good-bye but lost the battle, and he’d come damn close to losing it too.

“I hate it that we can’t be together yet,” she whispered through tears, her arms around his neck.

“W-we’ve waited this long,” he said in her ear, his voice husky and emotional. Saying good-bye to her would never get easier.

“It feels like we’ve paid our dues. It feels like we deserve to be together.”

“W-we will be. Soon, Gris. W-we’re going to get there.”

He was gentle with her, careful not to hurt her mending ribs as he held her. He knew it was impossible, but how he wished he could have one last time with her naked, soft and willing beneath his hard, demanding body. He’d never stop wanting her like that. Not now. Not when he had memories that seemed so real he’d get hard and break a sweat in the remembering.

“Last chance, angel. You want to change your mind about writing from now to August?” he murmured against her neck.

The thought of not communicating with her for seven or eight weeks made him sick to his stomach. He understood why she didn’t want to hear from him. Would he want to hear from her if she were pregnant with someone else’s baby, living in a one-bedroom apartment with him? He understood why it hurt her, but he hated it that anything in his life should injure the woman he loved. His only goal was to make her happy. Forcing himself to focus on the bigger plan that included a happy forever with Griselda, he felt her shake her head.

“No, Holden. I’ll miss you like crazy, but I think it’s for the best.”

The best? The best would be staying in touch over the next two lonely months. Damn it. She couldn’t see that?

“Can’t you trust me? D-don’t you know how much I love you? It doesn’t matter if Gemma’s sleeping in my bed—I’ll be on the couch. I’m not touching anyone until I touch you again.”

She searched his eyes, beseeching him to understand before looking away.

“Okay,” he said gently, cupping her cheeks and tenderly kissing her lips. “I’ll send you a text when I’m headed to boot camp.”

“And a letter right after,” she added quickly.

“I promise,” he said, kissing her more urgently, the early morning sun flooding her hospital room and telling him it was time to go.

How he’d managed to walk away, he wasn’t sure. And he’d broken his promise to her that day, texting her from Baltimore, because he figured he wasn’t back home with Gemma yet. But he’d respected her wishes since then.

Holden punched the bag 198, 199, 200 times, then lowered his fists, backing up to a bench, where his water bottle sat waiting.

“How’s Gemma doing?” asked Clinton, sidling over to sit beside Holden on the bench. Clinton often joined him at the gym after work, and even though they didn’t necessarily work out together, Holden appreciated the company.

He turned to his friend and wiped the sweat off his forehead. “I think you’d know better than me.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” asked Clinton, an edge in his voice.

“That you’re close to her. You two text each other more than she and I talk.”

“Does that bother you?”

“Not at all,” said Holden. “You’ve been in the picture a lot longer than me.”

“You going with her to the ultrasound appointment next week?”

“Yeah,” said Holden, taking a deep breath.

Gemma had left him a note last night where he generally left her money on the kitchen table. She was having her twenty-week ultrasound first thing Monday morning and had invited him to join her. Holden had read up online, and his heart leaped a little when he discovered that if the baby was in the right position, they could find out if was a boy or a girl. His son or daughter. He couldn’t wait to see him or her for the first time.

But the saddest thing about Gemma’s invitation was that the only person Holden had wanted to call was Griselda—to talk to her, to share his hopes for a healthy baby, and talk about possible names. Whether she realized it or not, he and Gemma were long past the point of reconciliation. At this point, they were two forced halves of a team, and Holden intended to do his share of the work. He paid her bills while she incubated his child. He respected her demand that Griselda not be a part of his life for now. He stayed out of her way, and, since the morning she’d made him breakfast and he left, she stayed out of his. It wasn’t the ideal scenario for bringing a child into the world, but it was strangely bearable, especially since he knew he was leaving soon.

“She’s excited to find out if it’s a boy or a girl,” said Clinton.

“Where’re you going with all this?” asked Holden, suddenly feeling a little irritated, like Clinton was trying to guilt him into feeling more for Gemma than he did.

Clinton shrugged. “I don’t know. I feel bad about it. I feel bad for the baby because his parents fucking hate each other. I feel bad for Gem because she wants what she can’t have. I feel bad about your girl in D.C. because Gem’s forcing you two to stay apart. I just . . . feel bad.”

“I don’t hate Gemma,” said Holden quietly, surprised to discover it was true. “I just want someone else.”

“But you’re living with her. You’re the father of her baby. I shouldn’t say anything, but I know she still hopes that you two—”

“It’s never, ever going to happen,” said Holden.

“Maybe you should tell
her
that,” said Clinton softly.

“I fucking did. And you were there. And she said she’d k-kill our f-fucking kid.”

“She was confused. And hurt. And angry with you.”

“Yeah, well. She seemed pretty serious to me.”

“Yeah, I guess she did.” Clinton sighed. “What a fucking mess.”

The next words tumbled from Holden’s mouth without a warning and shocked the hell out of him. “I’m leaving, Clinton.”

“What?” Clinton turned to Holden with narrowed eyes. “She’s pregnant with your kid and you’re leaving her? You promised—”

“Calm the fuck down. I promised I wouldn’t be with Gris, and I’m not. Having a kid is expensive, Clinton. I’m enlisting.”

Clinton’s jaw dropped. “What? What the f—? When? You’re going into the service? When did
this
happen?”

“I met a Marine when I was down in Maryland at the hospital with Gris. We got to talking, and I just . . . you know, I want to provide for my kid. I want him—or her—to be proud of me. I don’t want to work at the fucking glass factory my whole life.”

“What’s wrong with the glass factory?” asked Clinton.

“Nothing. You’ve lived here all your life. You’ll probably make assistant manager one day. Me? I’m just passing through. Muscle and grunt work. I don’t want it forever. I want more.”

“So you’re enlisting,” said Clinton.

“Yeah. Already took the entrance exam. Did okay too. Heading back down to Baltimore in three and a half weeks for my physical, and if all goes well, I’ll be shipped off to boot.”

“Hell,” said Clinton, a fast-growing admiration in his eyes. “You’re serious. Enlisting. You’re going to be a goddamned Marine, Seth . . . er, Holden.”

Because Quint had served in the Army, Holden knew that Clinton had a huge respect for military service, and Holden grinned at the reverent tone in his friend’s voice.