Page 123 of Studs Up
The conversation had been a failure, and he didn’t want to talk for the rest of the day. He was so fucking scared and trapped that any option felt more miserable than the position he was already in.
Reevaluating my approach, I realized I had been too blunt. The rest of the day was spent in silence. I discovered reading books other than biographies about famous soccer players or sports psychology wasn’t terrible. I picked up a local author from the owner’s library and wasn’t entirely impressed.
Holden simmered between a panic attack and agony. I let him. It’s where he lived for so long that was where he was most comfortable. He would talk when he was ready, and we’d find common ground. And I would have to do something I never thought I’d ever do, apologize.
When he crawled into bed with me, he tucked himself into my chest, and we laid in silence until he fell asleep.
I found him on the patio in a sweater and flannel bottoms that definitely weren’t warm enough.
It was quiet. The fall here had skipped right into winter, and snow fell in tiny flakes.
When I wrapped him up in the comforter from behind and slid my arms around him, Holden leaned back into me.
“Talk to me,” I murmured in his ear.
“How do you do it?” He asked, he sounded far away, lost in thoughts that haunted him.
“Do what?”
“Not care.”
“I care about you,” I said. He twisted his head and smiled up at me.
“I know that,” he said. “But the rest of it. What people think or say. It doesn’t affect you.”
I exhaled and pulled him closer.
“I think I was so focused on getting a contract with a team I never stopped to consider what everyone thought of me. It didn’t matter. I knew where I was going, and no one was going to stop me.”
“I want to be like that,” he said mournfully.
“No, you don’t,” I kissed his temple. “I stomp my way through this world. You feel your way, and that is a beautiful thing.”
“But it hurts,” his lips trembled. “I don’t want to care. I don’t want this asshole to rule my life.”
“We will figure this out.” Murder was not off the table. Whoever was doing this to him was going to feel my wrath. I was going to do everything I could to protect him. I had no fucking clue how, but I was going to do it.
My Holden was soft and squishy and kind and so fucking good. And some asshole was crushing that.
He turned in my arms and rested his head in the curve of my neck.
“How?”
“I don’t know, but what I do know is that I love you, and I am not going to give up until you are safe.”
Holden lifted his head.
“Say it again,” he whispered.
“Want me to say the whole thing over or just the one part.”
“The one part.” His eyes were shining so bright in the moonlight that I lost the air in my lungs and almost didn’t have enough to repeat it.
“I love you.”
There it was. That fucking smile. The one that made my heart pound. He slid his arms around my waist.
“Really?”
