Tracing Holland (NSB Book 2) (31 page)

“Hey, guys, does ‘flower cave’ mean
anything to you?” I call over to the others. They glance up and seem relieved.

“You got ahold of him?”

“Yeah, but all I got was ‘flower
cave.’”

“It’s that one park!” Reece cries. “We
went there and got wasted after the Underground
Masterclass
show, remember? There’s that tunnel with all the hippie graffiti. We called it
a flower cave.”

“Where is it?”

“Um…shit, let me think.” He pulls out
his phone and I wait as he searches. “Ok, here it is. Lewis Park. It’s nowhere
near Chadwick’s. Not sure how he got there.”

“Let me see that.” I scan the map.
“Alright, you guys stay here and put out fires until we get back. I’ll go get
him. Text me that address.”

∞∞∞

Lewis Park is about as shady and uninviting as I expect. I
tell the cab to wait for me, and even he’s not thrilled at the prospect, but I
promise to reward him for it.

I also send Tess a message letting her
know I had to run a quick errand to Newark, thus adding to the train of unhappy
people in my wake.

I have no idea how to find a tunnel
with hippie flowers on it, but use my phone as a flashlight when the dim path
lights aren’t enough. My heart is racing, blood pounding in my ears in the
unsettling silence, but I try not to show my fear. I’ve played this game way
more than I should have. I know I have to look like I belong if I have any hope
of surviving a confrontation. I don’t see other midnight loiterers, however; just
me, my fear, and another
hash mark for my tally of
stupid, impulsive decisions. Parker and the others had wanted to come with me,
but of course I had refused the most logical option.

I shake off the self-criticism, leaving
that for later, and focus back on my present challenge. Suddenly, I can hear
voices to the left, and hate that the new direction would take me off the main
path. Still, it’s my only clue so I change course and shoot Parker a text
letting him know I’m here, heard something, and he should call the cops if he
doesn’t hear from me in ten minutes.

Sure enough, after about a hundred
feet, I see a very distinctive tunnel. It’s surprisingly better lit than the
rest of the park, allowing for the clear illumination of a collection of lethargic
bodies strewn over the ground.

I mutter a curse and move toward it,
absorbing as much of the scene as I can while still maintaining my casual
approach.

“Hey, man,” someone calls out. I find
the voice, but don’t recognize the speaker. He holds something up to me, and I
shake my head, swallowing my disgust.

“No, thanks. Just looking for a friend.
Jesse Everett?”

“Jesse?” It’s a woman this time, three
actually, when I turn toward the new voice sandwiched between a set of groupie clones.
“Wow, hello there.” She staggers to her feet, and before I know what’s
happening, collapses against me. I catch her as she giggles and grabs me way
beyond what’s necessary to establish her balance. Annoyed, but fully aware she
may be my best hope at finding Jesse, I let her get her fill.

“Do you know where he is?”

I scan the remaining bodies, but none
appear to be a strung-out rocker
who’s
about to get
his ass handed to him.

“He was here.”

“Ok, and where is he now?”

She gives me a coy look. “We had a
blast. He didn’t tell us about you, though. We would have waited.” There is
absolutely no secret in her eyes. “Yeah, definitely would have waited, wow.”

I roll my own. “Where is he now?” I
repeat, finished with junkie politics.

She points to the other end of the
tunnel. I force her hands away from me and start navigating through the maze of
zombies. I don’t like that I still haven’t seen him, and curse when I reach the
opening to find a new cluster of passed-out partiers.

“Jesse?” I call into the darkness.
“Jesse Everett?”

“Luke?”

This time I recognize the weak voice
and turn my flashlight to the right. “Shit…” I mutter when I see him. He’s
collapsed against a tree, barely conscious.

I step over the others and pull him to
his feet, weaving my arm under his shoulders.

“Can you walk?”

“I don’t…” His head rolls down, and I
can tell he’s wrecked. From what, I have no idea. I check for obvious needle
marks but don’t see any.

“Talk to me, man, or I’m taking you to
a hospital.”

His head jerks up at that. “No, no, I’m
ok,” he slurs.

“No, you’re definitely not, but you
have the walk back to the cab to convince me to take you to the bus instead.”

He shakes his head. “No, I’m good.”

“What day is it?”

“Um…”

“Jesse, the day.”

“Saturday.”

I breathe a sigh of relief. “Ok. Well,
technically Sunday at this point, but close enough. The date?”

He’s quiet again,
then
gives me a weak smile. “Not sure I would have gotten that one sober.”

I grin in spite of myself. “True. What
did you take?” I ask, deciding to push my luck while he’s lucid.

He shakes his head again. “I don’t know.
Not sure. Just ended up here.”

I curse. “Do you have your wallet?”

We stop so he can pat his jeans. “Shit,
no. I don’t think so.”

I sigh. “Ok, we’ll deal with that when
we get back. They left your phone, at least. Keep your mouth shut until we get
back to the cab, ok?”

He nods, and I brace myself to re-enter
the dreaded zombie “Flower Cave.”

“Hey, where you going?” my earlier
assailant calls as we shuffle past.

“Home,”
I return in a stern tone.

“Aw,
why? It’s early.”

“He has
to work tomorrow. Have a nice night,” I mutter.

“Jesse!
Call me, babe!” she cries after us.

“Not
likely,” I return. I give him a look. “You will not,” I warn.

He
shrinks a bit, but doesn’t say a word until we reach the cab.

∞∞∞

“Luke, I’m sorry!” he begins, breaking the uncomfortable
silence after we get back on the highway. I’m so relieved he’s ok, and even
sobering up, that my anger starts to forgive.

“You scared the shit out of a lot of
people,” I explain, studying him in the rhythmic flashing of passing headlights
and streetlamps.

“Dammit, I know, I just…” He presses
his palms to his eyes, and I soften a bit at his obvious distress.

“Here, drink this,” I command, passing
him the bottle of water I’d brought.

He gives me a sheepish look as he
accepts it and starts inhaling the contents.

“That was epically idiotic,” I
continue. “You get that, right? You want to party, fine, but there’s a right
way and a wrong way. Landing in a fucking tunnel with a crowd of
junkies—wrong way.”

“I know, it’s just…”

“Shut up for a second and listen to
me.”

I wait until I have his attention and hold
up four fingers. “The number of times I ended up in the hospital after a night
of partying.” Seven fingers. “The number of times I woke up in a completely
different place than where I thought I was.” Two fingers. “The number of times
I was probably drugged and have no idea what happened after that.”

I draw in a deep breath. “It’s not
cool, man. It’s not worth it, and it’s not you.”

He looks away, clearly conflicted, and
I sigh. “Look, first thing you do any time you leave the group is tell someone
your plan, then you don’t veer from it unless you send an update, ok? Second
rule,
never take a hit you didn’t buy yourself. Better to
stay away from that shit completely… but I get it.” He looks back at me. “Third
rule, stay on your turf as much as possible. Bring the girls back to your bus,
your dressing room, whatever, but for fuck’s sake don’t follow them to abandoned
tunnels.” I shake my head. “And dude, seriously, that chick? You’re a freaking
epic talent, man. Aim way higher or don’t bother. I’m serious. You got nothing
from that girl you needed, did you.”

I can tell I’m right when he leans back
and closes his eyes. “I know. I’m sorry again.” He opens them and turns back to
me. “Thanks for coming for me, man. I mean it. When I woke up…” His eyes search
mine. “I was scared, dude. Really scared.”

“Yeah, so were we. Don’t do it again,
ok?”

He lets out his breath. “Not a chance.”

I jab his arm. “Good. And delete that
chick’s number from your phone. I guarantee it’s in there.”

∞∞∞

I can tell Kenneth is livid when we get back. Our impromptu
road trip put us almost two hours behind schedule, but he holds his tongue as I
climb back onto my bus after depositing Jesse on his. The Limelight guys were
beyond grateful, solemn as they exchanged greetings with their drained and apologetic
frontman
.

I have some concerned messages waiting
for me from Holland as well, and return them to let her know I’m ok, just
helping out a friend. In an update to her drama, Wes has been hiding in his
bunk since Holland boarded their bus so she hasn’t confronted him yet. Casey is
waiting for me on mine.

“Parker told us what happened,” he whispers,
waving me to the back. We close the partition and I drop to the couch, totally
exhausted.

“He’s a good kid, he’s just got a
mountain to climb before he figures this out.”

“Really? We don’t know anyone like
that,” he jokes, and I give him a look.

I close my eyes. “I wish I’d kept a journal.
I could probably just hand it to him as an instruction manual.”

Casey grunts. “More like a violent warning.”

I grin. “Exactly.”

I open my eyes and glance back at
Casey. “Do you think he’s got a prayer? I mean, do you believe it’s possible to
avoid that road for guys like us if you have help?”

“Which road?
Your
road?
Or mine.”

“Your road would have been a lot better
if I hadn’t dragged you down mine.”

He shrugs. “Maybe. But we both got
through it, right?”

I sigh. “Did we?”

“Your road brought Callie into my life.
You won’t hear me complaining.”

My heart starts to fill as I glance
over again at my best friend. “Case, you know how important you are to me,
right? You and Callie, and now Holland…” I shake my head. “Anyway, I love you,
man. I don’t know if I’ve ever said it, but you need to know that. That’s all.”

I can feel his grin and let my own
slowly spread across my lips. Snide remark in three…two…

“Sorry, dude. You’re cute and all, but I’m
practically engaged.”

Toronto, Ontario

September
29 - October 4

Despite
our late start, we make good time to the border at that time of the morning.
Our driver has to rouse us for a quick inspection of our bus and review of our
passports, but nothing like the stop two years ago when the border guard seemed
to take pleasure in her power to make our lives miserable. Three hours we
waited as they did whatever it is they do with our paperwork and forced us to
crowd into the uncomfortable waiting room of the border offices. I was certain
we’d be spending the rest of the tour coordinating Kenneth’s bail, but by some
miracle we managed to keep our tour manager out of prison, even if it required
miles of frenetic pacing through the maze of ugly chairs. We never did learn
the reason for the hold up. They just handed our passports back and told us to
enjoy our stay.

Our delayed start also means we hit Toronto later than
planned. Thankfully, it’s a Sunday so the legendary Toronto traffic is only a
mild nuisance, not a complete 20-kilometer parking lot. You only need to sit
through a Toronto rush hour once to learn it’s a vicious torture the likes of
which we haven’t seen since medieval inquisitions. Kenneth probably would have
kicked me off the tour himself for sending us into downtown mid-morning, but it
turns out to be a pleasant drive on a Sunday. Callie is glued to the windows
staring up in awe at the passing landmarks.

“There it is. The ACC,” Casey announces, motioning straight
ahead. “That’s where we’re playing Friday and Saturday.”

“I can’t believe all the Canadian flags everywhere!”

“It’s Canada, babe,” he points out with a grin.

“I know, but…”

“Wait until we get her some
Timbits
,”
I joke. “You can’t get tea though, Cal. You’ve got to go with a mocha or
cappuccino or something.”

“Huh?”

I point out the window.

“Tim Horton’s? Oh, is that a coffee shop?”

“No, it’s a way of life here,” Casey explains. “Kind of a
religion, really.”

“I’ve been known to accept a cappuccino in a crisis,” she teases.
“We’ll make this work.” Then, turns to me. “Holland’s from this area, isn’t
she?”

“North York, I think.”

“Are you going to meet her family while we’re here? We have
plenty of time.”

I quiet, not sure how to answer a question like that. I woke
up dark today so I’m not convinced it’s safe to even try. I can’t imagine she’d
want to bring me home. My own family wanted nothing to do with me. I know hers
is close, sweetly
dysfunctionally
functional, and pretty
much the opposite of what should be exposed to my divisive presence. Holland
and I never discussed her plan to introduce me into her personal sphere, and to
be honest, I hadn’t really thought about it since I don’t have one. I don’t
know what I would do if my sweet, intelligent, accomplished, driven, beautiful
little girl brought home Luke Craven, but two hundred years ago it probably
would have involved a shotgun. Forget about the awkwardness of facing the shadow
of Wes, the son-in-law they almost had and probably still mourn. How many
frames does he occupy in the upstairs hall gallery? My picture is in the pile
of bathroom smut by the toilet.

“I’m guessing that hasn’t come up,” Callie observes, drawing
me back, and I shake my head.

“Not exactly, no.”

Her sympathetic look isn’t helping right now, and I force my
gaze back to the window. I’d been so wrapped up in Holland, in the magic she’s
inserted into my
life,
I hadn’t given a lot of thought
to what I’d do to hers. I hate that the old insecurities are suddenly creeping
back,
threatening the little shelter we’d begun to build,
and do my best to control the rising chills of panic.

Holland and I were just a story until this moment, until the
realization that the story will have to become reality to last beyond the neat
little bubble of this tour. Holland threw herself into my baggage; I will have
to confront whatever comes with her, even if it’s the one thing I will never
understand, the one thing that will never understand me.

Family.

I pull out my phone and stare at her name. Everything in me
wants to send her a message. That I miss her, that I’m thinking about her, that
I can’t wait until we park in ten minutes and can steal a touch or two. But my
fingers won’t move, frozen by sudden images of smiling parents and adoring siblings.
Laughter around a Christmas tree, birthday parties, graduations, church choirs,
and cheesy beach photos in matching t-shirts. Suddenly, all there is
is
the world where I don’t belong, the world that couldn’t
accept me even if it wanted to. I see Holland’s empty seat at the table because
she chose me over them.
Because she always chooses me.
Because suddenly, it occurs to me that I might love her too much to let her
make that choice.

I close my eyes, my chest heavy, aching as the darkness
starts to seep from the sewers of my head. The slow mist quickly builds into a
suffocating fog, clouding out the light, disguising the recognizable markers
I’d planted to maintain my bearings over the last few weeks. I draw in air, but
it does nothing to soothe my lungs. Triggers. Triggers. Triggers. I clench my
fists. Great, I can label them now. Big fucking deal.

“Luke, hey, you ok?”

Startled, I cast a quick glance at Callie. “Fine, yeah,
why?”

I don’t like the way she’s looking at me. Casey too.

“Just tired. I’m
gonna
grab something from my bunk. We’re pulling in.”

I feel their eyes in my back. They’re concerned and they
should be. Because right now, all I want is to be alone with my darkness.

∞∞∞

“Luke,
you coming?”

“Be out in a minute,” I lie from the back. I close my eyes
and lean against the backrest of the couch, fighting to hold my head together.
I hate this sudden meltdown. I hate that the fact that I understand it does
nothing to help me stop it. I hate that I’m too weak to control my own
thoughts. God, I just hate right now.

I’m not surprised by
the backslide
,
but there’s no rejoicing over the few extra seconds you get to study the cliff before
you slam into it. These last few weeks have been brutal, and last night’s
flashback with Jesse wrecked me way more than I’d anticipated. I was rock solid
in the moment, but paid dearly the rest of the night as a captive audience to
the silent movie replay behind my eyelids. Every dark tunnel and hippie flower
graffiti wall that had ever imprisoned me in my protective substance-induced
stupor seemed to flash in an endless stream of reminders about why I have no
right to be here. I have no right to be here. I have no right to be here. I
have no right to…

“Hey, can I come in?”

I force my eyes open at her voice.

Her voice.

“Yeah, sure, sorry. Just taking a break.”

She’s studying me. I’m sure she knows it’s the kind of break
that doesn’t make sense to most people.
The break from life.

She moves beside me and takes my hand, and I fight the urge
to pull away. My head knows it would hurt her, not protect her, but the cloud
is fighting hard to undermine my head. Empty place settings.
Two
Christmases alone before the weight of her massive mistake settles in.

“What are we doing, Holland? What are you doing?” I blurt
suddenly. It comes out like a cobra strike. She recoils just as strongly.

“What do you mean?”

I face
her,
I have to, and brace
myself even as the pain nearly crushes me. “You know what I mean. This.
You and me.
We have a connection, great, but what happens
when the tour is over? What happens when your family calls you home for dinner?
Then what? What happens when you realize that your give is astronomically
bigger than your take? That I need you way more than you need me?”

She stares at me, her eyes. I can’t look at her eyes and
lean forward instead, covering my face with my hands.

“No, Luke. No way.”

I still can’t look.

“Hey! Look at me! Face me!” she cries, jerking my arm. I do,
but wish with all my soul I didn’t have to. “I don’t know what this is, but
it’s not happening, ok?”

She gets up and moves toward the partition.

“Where are you going?” I call after her.

Her glare slices into me “You’re not breaking this off, Luke
Craven. Got it? You’re having one of your dark days. Fine. Have a dark day, but
I care about you and I’m not letting your bad day ruin the rest of our lives.
I’ll talk to you later.”

She stops. “Oh, and be ready at five tonight because we’re
having dinner with my parents.”

With that she’s gone. And it’s just me again. Just me and
the thick air
that never seems quite right for my lungs.
Just
me and my failed insecurities.
Those damn
insecurities didn’t stand a chance against Holland Drake.

∞∞∞

“You
look amazing,” I breathe when she meets me at the cab several hours later. She
looks more than amazing. She looks like my second biggest regret if I had
succeeded in my quest that morning.

“So do you,” she returns with a smile.
“How are you feeling?”

“Better.” Holland had been right. I’d needed
time alone to clear my head, not a broken heart.

She gives the driver the address to her
parents’ house, and the car jumps into motion.

“Holland, about what I said this
morning…”

“You don’t believe you’re good enough
for me.
Blah
blah
blah
.
Yeah, we’ve been over this,” she finishes for
me, and I can’t stop the slow grin.

“Ok, but your parents…”

“Can’t wait to meet you. Anything
else?” The clear challenge in her eyes shuts me up, and I shake my head with a
shy smile.

“I guess not.”

“Good. Because you know what I did this
afternoon?”

“What?”

She fishes through her purse and pulls
out a piece of folded notebook paper. “
Here.
”

“What’s this?”

“A list.”

“A list?”

She nods.

“A list of what?”

“Of all the pros and cons of dating
you.”

I almost choke. “And you want me to
read this?”

She shrugs. “Yeah, actually I do. It
surprised me, so I think it will surprise you.”

I accept the frightening document and
unfold it with more than a little apprehension. My heart is beating wildly,
thudding against my chest as I glance down at the neat, meticulous strokes.
There
are
actually pros. Shock number one.

Pros:

He’s deep, intelligent – a lifetime of layers to
unravel

Disgustingly talented – we can grow from each other

He understands our world, the struggle of the spotlight

Sexy as hell - duh.

He fights so hard without knowing it – he fights for
me

He touches people without trying

Jesse! How he looks out for him and turns his scars into
someone else’s lifeline

He has no idea how amazing he is, even though everyone else
can see it

He makes me feel like I’m the most important person in his
universe

He needs me and I want to be needed

Cons:

He doesn’t believe in himself. Maybe he never will. Can I
believe enough for both of us? Do I have a choice when the thought of living
without him causes physical pain?

I stare at the note.
Reading,
re-reading.
I don’t know what to do with it. I don’t know what words
could possibly come next. The fact that she has any pros leaves me speechless.
The fact that this is her heart leaves me breathless.

“Keep it,” she whispers as I start to
fold it back up to return to her. “Let it replace the other one.”

I can feel the hot prick of tears in my
eyes as I nod and grip the priceless treasure in my hand. I still don’t know
what to say, and do the only thing that makes sense at that moment: take her
hand and determine to never let go.

∞∞∞

“That’s
it there. Second house on the left,” Holland directs to the driver, and I
follow her instructions as well. Sure enough, an adorable brick two-story is
packed narrowly among a line of similar structures on the well-kept street. A
middle-aged couple rises from their porch chairs at the approach of our cab and
Holland is already out of her seat.