Tracing Holland (NSB Book 2) (32 page)

“That’s them,” Holland explains with a grin I know will stay
with me for a long time.

“You go. I’ll take care of the cab,” I offer, and she sheds
twenty years as she claps her hands and launches from the car toward her
parents.

I pay the fare, barely able to count out the correct change
with my eyes constantly wandering toward the reunion on the small porch. I
finally complete my assignment and venture from the protective shelter of the
car. Holland glances back, and I know the topic has turned to me. She must
notice my hesitant approach and bounds toward me with nearly the same
enthusiasm.

“Mom, Dad, this is Luke. Luke, this is Annie and James.”

I force my best smile. It’s not hard when faced with the sincere
examples that greet me. “Mr. and Mrs. Drake,” I acknowledge, shaking their
hands.

“I’m pretty sure she said Annie and James,” her father
corrects, and my forced smile turns genuine.

“Sorry. Annie and James.”

Annie studies me, and I don’t miss the look she exchanges with
her daughter. Her eyebrows rise in approval, and it’s everything I can do to
keep a straight face.

“So cute,” I hear her whisper as her father waves me inside.

I’m assaulted by the smell of home-cooked food and potpourri
as we duck into the foyer, my eyes adjusting to the clean and humble
surroundings. Not at all what I was expecting, but then again, I didn’t really
have expectations.

“You can leave your shoes there by the door,” James
instructs, and I slide them off to add to the row. Holland does the same and
takes my arm, still glowing.

“Are Sylvie and Hannah here yet?” she asks.

“Unfortunately, Hannah couldn’t get off work, but she will
find another time to see you while you’re here.
Sylvie’s in
the basement with Emma.
Go tell them you’re here.”

Holland gives me a conspiratorial look. “Ok, so I should
have told you this before, but I know how you get.”

I brace myself. “Oh no. What?”

She gives me a sheepish look and leans close. “My sister
Sylvie is kind of a huge NSB fan. Like, ridiculously obsessed. Way more than I
am,” she teases, and I shake my head with a grin.

“Oh, I see. So now you tell me.”

“I’m warning you now, right? Can you please do me a favor
and just show up in our basement?”

I stare at her in disbelief. “Wait, what? Does she not know
I’m coming?”

Holland bites her lip and shakes her head with a mischievous
glint. “No. I made my parents swear not to tell her. She thinks she’s meeting
you after Friday’s show.”

My eyes widen. “Seriously? Does she know we’re…together?”

She shakes her head again and holds her finger to her lips.
“No. None of them do. I wanted to talk to them about it in person. I told them
we’d become close. They don’t know how close.”

I sigh. “Ok. Well, hang on then, I have a better idea. Do
you have a guitar here?”

She squints at me for a second before nodding. “Yes…”

“Just trust me.”

“Ok, be right back.”

I wait as she disappears down the hall, and her mother peeks
in from the kitchen.

“Did she just leave you there?”

“She’s getting something for me,” I assure her with a smile.

“Did she tell Sylvie and Emma you’re here?”

“We’re about to.”

Annie nods. “Do you like lasagna?”

“I love it.”

“That’s a relief because she made way too much like usual,”
James’ voice calls from somewhere behind the wall.

“Oh shush. You like to take it for your lunches.”

“For a few days, not a few weeks.”

Annie rolls her eyes toward me, and I return a grin. “He
loves it,” she mouths,
then
disappears back into the
kitchen.

Holland returns with the guitar, a mid-range Martin that’s
in surprisingly poor condition.

“What happened to this?” I laugh as she hands it to me.

“You have Percy. This is Sam,” she explains, beaming. “I
just prefer to leave Sam at home for Emma who’s starting to get into it.”

A sense of reverence washes over me as I take the precious
instrument. “Thanks, Holland. It’s gorgeous.”

She nods. “It was my first real guitar. I had another one
before it, but this was from when I first got serious about music.” She rubs
her hands. “Ok, so what’s the plan?”

I clear my head and focus back on the door to the basement.
“Well, I don’t know. How far down in the basement would they be?”

“There’s a small finished section right at the base of the
stairs. They’re probably watching TV.”

“Ok, perfect.”

I open the door quietly and work my way down a few steps,
careful to make as little sound as possible. Once I find a good spot I lower
myself to the carpet and adjust the guitar in my arms. I glance up at Holland
and give her a quick smile, loving the look on her face as she begins to
comprehend my plan. Then, without warning, I launch into my favorite acoustic
rendition of “Greetings from the Inside.”

The volume of the TV drops instantly, followed by literal
screams as a young woman who must be Sylvie turns the corner and spots me on
her steps. Emma races up behind her big sister and starts grinning as well, although
with the shy cool of a self-conscious teenager. The commotion draws Holland’s
parents, and before I know it,
I’m trapped on the stairwell
by an adoring Drake family
. I cast another glance at Holland and nearly
fumble at the glisten in her eyes. I can hear the smile in my own voice as I
look away again and finish the song.

“Oh. My. Gosh. No.
Freakin
’. Way.”
Sylvie cries, rushing up the stairs. I stay rooted in my place so she can reach
me and hold out my hand.

“Hi, I’m Luke,” I say, and she nods, eyes wide with shock.

“Um. Duh,” she replies, and I laugh.

“You must be Sylvie.”

“Oh, gosh, that accent!” she blurts to Holland.
Now, Holland’s laughing.

“Yep.”

“You’re... Like…on my steps! Why are you on my steps? Why is
Luke Craven on my steps?” she demands from her sister.

“He’s here for dinner,” Holland replies casually.

“Here? Like, with us? Oh, crap, my hair!” She pats her head
to hide it, even though I think she looks adorable.

“I like your hair. It’s cute,” I say, and she just about
faints.

“He likes my hair. He…”

“Sylvie. Sentences, darling,” Holland counsels. “She speaks
fluent English, I swear,” Holland assures me.

“Ha. Ha,” Sylvie returns, making a face. “I’m sorry, but I
bet you reacted the same way when you first met him. Did she tell you what she
did when her manager said they were touring with you?”

“Sylvie! Don’t you dare!
”
Holland
cries, and now my interest
is
piqued.

“No, she didn’t. Just that it was a good career boost for
her.”

“Yeah, it was. She also listened to all your albums like a
million times for two weeks straight.
Morning, noon, and
night.
Oh! And kept gushing about your genius…blah, blah, blah.
Seriously, I’ve got all the texts to prove it.”

“Sylvie!”

I laugh. “Really? Wow. I’m flattered.”

“Yeah, she stole them too. Downloaded them from my account.
Didn’t even pay for them.”

“Oh my god, Sylvie!” Holland grabs my arm and starts yanking
me up the stairs.

“What? It’s the truth. She owes you like fifty bucks!”
Sylvie calls after us.

When we reach the top, her parents are doing their best to
hide their laughter, and draw to an abrupt stop when they see us. Holland’s
glare turns on them. “Seriously? I’m home for thirty seconds and you have to
embarrass me in front of my boyfriend?”

We all freeze. Their expressions change, and I swallow, the previous
butterflies transforming into cyclones in my stomach. Holland realizes her slip
as well and blushes.

“Boyfriend?” her father asks, gazing back and forth between
us.

She takes my arm and glances up at me briefly before
focusing back on her family. “Ok, so, remember how I told you I wanted to talk
to you about something?” she begins hesitantly.

They clearly remember. They clearly didn’t think this was
going to be the topic.

“Luke and I have gotten close. Like, really close. Like
bring
him home to meet my family close.” She gives them a
sheepish look. “Surprise.”

There’s another brief moment of silence before five bodies
jump at the sudden, ear-splitting screech erupting from behind us. Sylvie Drake
launches herself into my arms, almost knocking me into the wall.

“No way! No
freakin
’ way! No way
no way no way!” There’s no air left in my lungs when she’s done with me and
turns her passionate approval on her sister.

“
Ahh
! I can’t believe this! This
is amazing!” she cries, clinging to her sister. “Luke Craven is going to be my
brother-in-law!”

Holland only laughs and returns her embrace. “Um…way ahead
of yourself, hon.”

Suddenly, the younger woman pulls back and stares at us in
horror. “Oh crap…I was kidding about the music! She didn’t steal it! I mean,
she did, but I’m sure she paid for it later…like, with a donation or something…I…don’t
be mad at her!”

I just laugh and shake my head. “It’s all good,” I assure
her, before braving a glance back at Holland’s parents who are still studying
us in silence. I can’t read their expressions but her mother doesn’t seem
happy.

“Holland, I really wish you had told us.”

Holland looks away, and my heart sinks. “I know, mom. I knew
it would be a shock. I just wanted to be able to talk about it in person. It’s
good. It’s really good, and I wanted you to see for yourself. I knew if you met
him…”

Her mother places her hands on her hips and shakes her head.
“Well, that may be so, but I really would have wanted to use the good china had
we known you were bringing your boyfriend home.”

∞∞∞

In a
career built on interviews, I’ve never been asked so many questions in such a
short period of time. Most are easy, some are tough, a few are hilarious. My
favorite is the barrage about Casey when it turns out Sylvie Drake may love the
idea of having me as a brother-in-law, but is a fervent, card-carrying member of
Team Casey. Holland snickers as I answer forty percent of the questions and
casually deflect the rest. I’m pretty sure Case doesn’t want me sharing his
underwear preferences with the world. Holland literally spit out her mouthful
of water when that one got tacked on to an inquiry about his favorite television
show.

“Alright, sweetheart, enough about Casey. Maybe Luke would
ask him for an autograph for you?” James says.

“Sure. He’d love it. I’ll get a signed stick for you,” I
assure her, mostly to see Holland’s radiant smile again.

“That would be
amaaaazing
!” Sylvie
sighs, melting before our eyes.

“I’ll see what I can do.”

“More lasagna, Luke? Salad? Bread?” Annie asks. “You sure I
can’t get you a glass of wine?”

“Oh, no thank you. I’m stuffed. It was delicious.”

“Luke doesn’t drink, Mom,” Holland adds, and I’m not
surprised by their surprise.

“Oh! Well, I’m sorry for asking then. Is it bothering you
that we are?”

I just smile. “No, it’s fine. Really, you all have been
great. Thanks for having me.”

“You a Jays fan, Luke? You know they have a shot at the Wild
Card this year. Just a week left in the season but they’re only one and a half
games out.”

“Dad, he’s from South Africa and grew up in Houston. I
guarantee you he’s not a Jays fan,” Holland mutters.

I laugh. “That’s true, but I like baseball.”

James gives his daughter a triumphant look as he rises from
the table. “Well, come watch the game with me and see how real baseball is
played.”

“Can I help with the dishes or anything, Mrs. Drake?” I ask,
picking up my plate as I rise.

“Please, Luke. If you’re going to date my daughter you’re
going to call me Annie. And no. You leave that. Holland and I have a lot of
catching up to do. You go relax and watch the game. Can we get you anything
else?
A bottle of water?
Some pop? Coffee?”

“No, thank you, I’m fine.”

“Oh, Holland, we have to take him for a
poutine
while he’s here!” Sylvie chimes in.

“Have you ever had a
poutine
?”
Holland asks.

“That’s the fries with the gravy, right?”

“And cheese curds, yes. There’s a great place over in
Scarborough but it’s a bit of a trip.”