Hard to Hold On Page 2

  It makes me doubt, and I don’t need the doubt. I need him.

  Chapter Four

  Nolan

  As the sun peeks through my curtains, I groan heavily. My head throbs with each sudden movement and I collapse against my bed again, feeling the urge to just fall back to sleep. To just give up.

  Last night was awful.

  After I’d told Mills the bad news, he left without a word. He didn’t say anything and it freaked me out until he arrived home again, but with two bottles of Jack Daniels. I figured, why the hell not? I wanted to forget just as much as he did. I didn’t want to think about anything at all but I’m sure the drinking made it worse.

  My eyes are tight which means I had ended up crying sometime between. I hate crying but I know the tears were released. It was hard to control after having so much liquor in my system. Twisting my head, I glare at my phone that’s sitting on the night stand. I got a text from Natalie last night. She told me everything was going to be okay but it’s bullshit. She said she loved me as well but that caused even more pain to my troubled emotions.

  I love Natalie to death but I don’t know what the hell I’m going to do when she arrives. I’ll need her help in getting things together. I’m going to be more than glad to hold her in my arms because it’s been four months. I’ve wanted to make love to her for what seems like decades but with my mother passing, it won’t feel right . . . especially while I’m still living in her home.

  I continue my stare at my phone, figuring it’s too late to text back. I could start the day off with a “Good morning” text but right now I want time to myself. I don’t want to do shit but sleep but I have to work. Knowing I can’t miss out on the money, I hike myself up against my headboard with a heavy groan. As I press the soles of my feet on the floor, I hear scrambling in the kitchen. After being so accustomed to her early morning ramblings in the kitchen, the first thought is it’s my mother but the thought fades in almost an instant.

  I shuffle through my drawer for a pair of shorts, slide them on, and then head for the kitchen. When I round the corner, I see Mills slouching over the sink. His head seems practically hidden beneath his large shoulders but once I catch a glimpse of something sharp and silver in his hand I rush for him.

  “Mills, what the hell are you doing?” He doesn’t answer. He continues squeezing the knife between his palm and fingers and I watch as his blood drips into the sink. “Mills . . . stop. It’s alright.”

  Grunting, he drops the knife into the sink to look at me. He glares into my eyes, his nostrils flaring. He’s not taking the bad news lightly. I can see it all over his face; the purple bruises beneath his eyes and his dry lips. “It’s not alright, Nolan,” he snarls through his teeth,

  “Yes it is. Shit happens for a reason, right? It’s what you always said to me about Dad? Shit happens.”

  “This isn’t shit!” He shoves me against my chest and I stumble backwards a few steps. I gaze down at the blood from his hand that’s on my chest before looking up at him again. Panting heavily, he turns around and knocks everything off of the counter. Glass shatters and plugs become undone and I want to stop him just to slap the shit out of him. I want to tell him to quit being stupid and to cool down but I know I shouldn’t. I don’t stop him because I’ve wanted to do the same exact thing. I just want to flip shit over. “She’s fucking dead, Nolan. What’s the point in living without her? She’s all we had, man. We came back for her because she was supposed to survive. She was doing so good . . . she was literally smiling at us before going in. Now she’s dead? I just—it doesn’t feel real. It can’t be real . . . she can’t be gone.”

  His glistening eyes turn on me and I feel the dryness scratching at my throat. The rims of my eyes burn but I force myself to keep strong. Mills finally slumps down in a chair at the table, suddenly weak at the knees. His bloodshot, teary eyes drift from mine to the glass table and he stares at it while I sigh, sitting across from him.

  “We have to work today, Mills.”

  “Fuck work.”

  “We need the money,” I snap.

  “Fuck the money, Nolan. Fuck everything.” He shoves away from the table and storms out of the kitchen. Keys jingle and then the front door slams shut behind him, letting me know he’s run off.

  I flinch from the heavy sound, bringing my hands up and running them through my hair. I never would have thought shit would turn this bad. Never. I tried so hard as a kid to let my father go in peace and after a while I did but now that my mother’s dead it just seems so unreal. It seems as if I’m living in a nightmare that I need to be shaken out of. The misery just isn’t supposed to be happening again.

  I don’t understand what I did to deserve this. I couldn’t have been that bad—in fact I know I wasn’t bad. I was good. I did everything I was supposed to do. My childhood was fatherless for the most part but I didn’t turn into one of the bad-ass kids in school. I was still Nolan . . . just a lost one. A hurt one.

  Groaning, I push back in my chair to get to my room. Mills may not want to work but I have to. Someone has to make money and without Mom here, this shit is only going to get tougher. We have to pay the bills now. Getting rid of her house is something she never would have wanted but we can’t continue to stay in it. After a few months we’ll have to sell it. We’ll have to get rid of it and everything we’ve wanted to hold onto.

  ****

  “Nolan, you feeling alright?” Tike asks me before I step out the door. Tike is one of the tour managers and there’s one thing about him I can’t stand. He worries about others too much. He’s a great manager and a great boss but when it comes to the personal life he can get a little too personal sometimes.

  “I’m good, Tike. Just having a rough day. Nothing I can’t handle.” I rub the back of my neck as he stands just to sit on the edge of his desk. He smacks and chomps on his gum as he looks me up and down from behind his thick-rimmed glasses.

  “You don’t look so good. Where’s Mills? It’s never like him to miss a day of work.”

  “He wasn’t feeling well,” I lie.

  “Well you look worn. Go home and get some rest. Sorry about making you pick up Leon’s shift as well but the check will be worth it, huh?” Somehow I don’t find his joke funny.

  “Yeah.”

  Tike studies me once more before finally sighing and standing from his desk. “Well, have a good night. I’ll see you tomorrow.” I spot the concern behind his eyes but I refuse to leave him any time to try and ask me if I want to talk about it. I’ve been trying to ignore it but it’s killing me inside. I feel like my lungs have been punctured and I’m forcing myself to breathe. I thought I had found everything I was looking for but then it flips on me and I’m at square one again.

  As I hop into the car I rest my head against the steering wheel, pulling my cell out from my back pocket. There are over a dozen text messages from Natalie and all of them say either “I miss you,” or “I hope everything is alright,” or even, “I love you”.

  I love her, too, but I feel hopeless. I feel so worthless. This depression has happened once before and I couldn’t fucking stand it. I don’t like the pain that’s been dragged upon me. I don’t like how it feels to be broken again.

  My parents were my world but without them, it’s shattered. Without them it’s pointless. The only good thing I have left in my life is Natalie and I know she’ll make me smile again . . . at least, I hope she can.

  Smiling hasn’t happened to me today. Not once. Not even towards the tourists who seemed a bit nervous around me and refused to ask me any questions. I admit I was being a total dick while escorting them around the exhibit but I just couldn’t come to grips with being happy.

  ****

  As soon as I arrive home I see Mills laid out on the sofa with a bottle of vodka in his right hand. I lock the door behind me before going for him and taking it away. “Mills, get up and go to bed.”

  He perks up slowly, his eyes still bloodshot. Snatching his bottle of vodk
a back, he staggers to his feet. He almost face-plants but I catch him before he can hit the floor. Chuckling, he slams the bottle of vodka down on the coffee table then stands up as straight as he can.

  “Don’t be a fag,” he says, blowing his intoxicated breath into my face. “Mom isn’t here. We can drink as much as we want to now, right?”

  My chest tightens from him calling me a “fag” and from him making fun of Mom’s house rules. “Alright. Time for bed.” I tuck my shoulders beneath his heavy arm and drag him towards his bedroom. I practically toss him onto his bed and he lets out another hysterical chuckle before falling onto his side and burying his face into one of his pillows.

  I wait, hoping he won’t get up, but after only a minute he begins to snore. I shut his door behind me, turning for my room exhaustedly. I kick my shoes off, peel my khaki’s away, and toss my shirt into the hamper beside my closet before settling into my bed.

  It ticks me off how Mills is acting like the younger brother instead of the older brother but I can’t act like I didn’t see this coming. When our father died, he broke every rule in the book. He got suspended way too many times from school for fighting kids who talked about our family and he had even smoked marijuana for a short period of time before he finally realized there was something better out there for him. He stopped completely when we’d moved to Miami and his girlfriend Lorie came into his life. When our mother found her boyfriend, Mills realized it was time for him to man up.

  I still hate how she chose her worthless boyfriend over us. She should have kept her boys close to her because we would have taken better care of her than he did. He knew she was sick but he hardly did anything about it. What hurts me most is I didn’t get to hug her one last time. I thought she would come out alive and maybe I could hug her a million times. I seriously thought she was going to make it. My hopes were so high and I guess it’s why I feel so terrible. My hopes were crushed and shattered completely.

  I turn on my side and stare at the white wall. Tears threaten to spill and I try to bite them back but it’s merely impossible. It’s only been a day but I miss her like hell. I miss everything about my mom and even though she did us wrong, I forgave her. She was someone to hold onto and someone who made us realize that life goes on. She was devastated when Dad died which is why I think she chose her boyfriend Derrick over us. She didn’t want to let the love for another man go but at the end of it all, he was the one who’d let her go. He was the one who fucked her over.

  When our dad died she told me every day it was in God’s plan . . . but what was his plan for taking both of my parents away from me? What did he want from me? I couldn’t figure out why my life had to be so miserable. I’ve done some minor things in the past—things most people would look over—but I never thought it would amount to this. Pain. Grief. Heartache. I can’t believe I’m experiencing another death of someone so close to my heart—my mother, of all people.

  I feel like a pussy for weeping but I can’t stop. I can’t seem to get over the reality of it. Both of my parents are gone and they’re never coming back.

  Chapter Five

  Natalie

  The wheels of the plane touch the ground as I nibble on my bottom lip. I’ve never felt so nervous about anything in my life—well besides the night at lounge Haven for Open Mic a few months ago but that nervousness can’t even compare to now.

  I thought I would be excited to see Nolan again. Turns out I’m not completely. I am excited to be with him and hopefully make him feel better but it just doesn’t seem like it’s going to be the same. I haven’t talked to him all weekend and to see him today may be odd.

  A flight attendant speaks through the microphone but it’s all a buzzing around my head. As soon as I see people standing and reaching into the compartments above to grab their bags, I do the same. I hurry down the aisle and take my time going down the hall that leads to the lobby. I can’t help but wonder if he’ll be excited to see me. Is he as anxious as I am? Will he be smiling and ready to see me?

  After pushing through the crowd just to fight for my own suitcase, I turn around and scan the lobby. The wailing and crying of babies fills my ear buds. People chatting and business people rushing with their phones glued to their ears takes my attention away—that is until I see Nolan standing near the exit.

  I gasp at first sight of him. It’s not what I’d expected at all—in fact, it’s much worse. He looks terrible in his faded jeans and white T-shirt. I can’t forget to mention the bags beneath his eyes that prove his lack of peaceful sleep. I study his lean stature, glad I can still make out the curves and creases beneath his T-shirt. At least he hasn’t let himself go all the way.

  As I step forward, my heart pounds heavily. He spots me coming before I can get to him and as soon as his soft eyes meet mine, he smiles . . . but of course it’s a forced one.

  “Hi, Bunny,” he whispers in my ear, pulling me against him. I smile over his shoulder, embracing his touch that I’ve missed over the course of these four months. His masculine scent that I’ve missed lingering in my lungs. I feel the heat radiating from his body and I sigh because I’ve missed this. I’ve missed holding on to him and I don’t want to let go but I do fractionally to get a better look at him.

  He pushes a hand through his mussed hair before reaching for my suitcase and my tote bag. “Nolan, are you feeling alright?”

  He shrugs. “I’m living, right?” My lips press as he digs into his pockets to pull out some car keys. “Come on. We don’t want to hit traffic.”

  Nodding, I follow after him towards the exit. As he pushes out, I take in the warm, fall air of San Francisco. It feels nice but it’s nowhere near as warm as Miami is.

  We continue to walk until we reach a silver Altima. He pops the trunk, places the bags inside, and I slide into the passenger seat with jumbled nerves as he shuts it and hurries for the driver’s side. This isn’t what I was expecting at all. I don’t like the silence from him. I don’t like how quiet he is or how drained he looks. I guess the double shifts and his loss is really catching up with him.

  As soon as Nolan climbs in, I grab his hand before he can start the car. He turns his head to look at me, his hard grey eyes lingering on mine before falling. Locking my fingers around his, I sigh and he looks away, swallowing heavily. “Nolan, look at me.”

  “I look like shit, Bunny.” He gives me a dry smile.

  “Yeah . . . you do,” I agree with a teasing grin, “but I understand. I’m sorry for your loss, but you know you can talk to me about anything. That’s what I’m here for.”

  “There’s not much to talk about, Natalie.” He pulls his hand away to reach up and place his fingers behind my ear. My skin tingles from his touch and his gaze that’s focused on mine. “Thank you for coming. Sorry if I’m acting a little . . . off.” He places a quick kiss on my lips then pulls away to crank the car.

  My immediate reaction would be to speak but I’m stuck. I can’t. I don’t know what to say. Instead of talking, I let the ride carry on silently. He doesn’t seem to mind it, but I do. It’s most likely a girl thing but I want to talk about it. He shouldn’t be bottling his emotions up. I know Nolan and if he feels a certain way he’ll tell me. But this time is completely different. He isn’t saying anything at all.

  I should have gotten a dozen kisses and his hold should have never left from around me at that airport until another few minutes but I have to understand. I have to put myself into his shoes.

  I just hope this behavior doesn’t last for very long.

  ****

  The home we arrive at is a cute brick home with black shutters and a large porch with four wooden rocking chairs on it. The grass is surprisingly green and the few oak trees in the yard hover above the house like towers.

  Nolan hops out of the car quickly and hurries for the trunk and I get out, but my movements are cautious.

  Pulling out his key, Nolan unlocks the front door and as soon as I step in I absorb the homey feel of it. Black leather c
ouches are against the north and east wall. A flat-screen television is sitting on the TV stand and a dark-brown coffee table is centered between it all. I can’t help but stare at the half-empty bottle of vodka on the table. I look from it to Nolan who has just sighed.

  “Wanna see my room?” he asks.

  “Sure.”

  I follow him down the hall to the last room on the left. He swings his door open and I smile because it’s the kind of room I would expect someone like Nolan to sleep in. His walls aren’t painted but he has a large bed, a small flat-screen television on his dresser, a corner desk piled up with books, and loads of clothes sitting in the corner. It’s simple, just like him.

  “Excuse the mess. I tried to clean but . . . well I just gave up on it,” he murmurs. “I hate cleaning.”

  I smile at him as he drops my bags in the corner then steps towards me again. My breath hitches as he pulls me against him, staring solely at my mouth. I pull my lips in to bite on them, feeling his fingers spread across the small of my back before drifting down to my hips.

  “I’ve missed you, Bunny,” he murmurs against my lips. I release the bite from my lips and he doesn’t hesitate to kiss me. A moan catches in my throat from the plushness. Oh, how I’ve missed his lips against mine. “I’m sorry I’ve been ignoring you . . . it’s just been awful,” he breathes. He kisses my neck and I nod, catching a grip of his shirt.

  “I understand.”

  Groaning, his lips find their way to mine again and he begins to back me up towards his bed. The back of my legs press against the edge and we fall slowly, but his hands never leave from my body. He kisses a trail from my neck to my collarbone. Rigid breaths tumble out of me as he reaches his hands beneath my tank top to pull my shirt over my head. I allow him to do so freely. I’ve wanted this for so long and I know he has as well.