Holding Read online

  “What’s all the crying about?” I hear a woman say, scaring the life out of me. “Pretty girls like you shouldn’t be all alone and screaming to the high heavens.”

  No one ever comes back here. My body goes into overdrive thinking about all the possibilities until I look over my shoulder and see an older woman. She’s in her sixties or seventies. It’s hard to tell with the dim light that washes over the dark property.

  Wiping the water works from my cheeks with the back of my hands, I peek over at her. She steps up and into the gazebo, uninvited.

  “Who are you?” I choke out, not the least bit frightened by a woman her age. She seems pleasant enough, even if she’s trespassing on private property.

  “Your new next-door neighbor. I moved in last week.” There’s a Southern twang to her soft voice that reminds me of my father. My dad’s side of the family is from the Southern parts of the United States, and she sounds just like them, which puts me even more at ease with her.

  “How did you get back here?”

  She shrugs, unaffected, and leans her back against the wood. “I walked from my house. I’ve done it every night since I moved in. You have a lot more land on this side of the fence and a lot more to look at.”

  “I don’t know about all that,” I say, sucking down the tears. “The garden is pretty barren now that my mother is gone and the landscapers are no longer around to keep up with the maintenance.”

  Why would Clarissa hire someone when she has me to trim the rose bushes or mow the lawn? I am the maid, gardener, chef, and butler. If they can dream it, I can do it.

  “Someone is keeping up with it,” she says, pointing out the obvious.

  “Tending to the yard is one of my chores,” I admit.

  She shakes her head in disapproval. Thankfully, she doesn’t go any further. I hate telling strangers about my situation, so I usually avoid conversations altogether. It’s also the reason I have no friends. How could I ever tell anyone about what goes on around here? It’s too humiliating to say aloud.

  “What is your name, girl?” Her voice is soft, inviting.

  “Ella,” I choke out, “Ella Fitzgerald. What’s yours?”

  “Katherine Feighry, but everyone calls me Mrs. F. You never told me why you were out here crying.”

  She reaches out to touch my arm, and for some reason, I let her. It’s nice to have someone comfort me. I sure as hell don’t get that at home and can use all the love and affection I can get—even if it’s from a stranger.

  “There’s this guy…Well, I was supposed to go to this party, but my stepsisters ripped apart my dress. I was looking forward to going.”

  “Then, go,” she says without hesitation. “Nothing is stopping you. Don’t let those girls get in the way of your plans.”

  I frown at her words. “Easier said than done. I have nothing to wear, and there’s no way I will get in with what I have on.”

  The woman releases her grip on me and stands, holding out her hand to me. “Come, darling, let me fix you up.”

  I glance up at her, confused. “I don’t understand.”

  “I have a dress for you to wear. You will love it.”

  I narrow my eyes at her. “You do?”

  She nods. “Yes, and it’s perfect for you.”

  I set my hand in hers, nervous about where she’s about to take me. But I am desperate and in need of her random act of kindness. Maybe I will even make it to the masquerade party. Maybe I will get my kiss from Finch.

  Chapter Two

  Shawn

  I lose shit all the time. And not just the usual misplaced wallet or keys. Nope, when I lose something, like my textbook or the stupid ass meal plan Coach is making me follow until the end of the season, it takes me days to find.

  So, of course, I can’t find the one thing I need for tonight, the only required part of my wardrobe for the masquerade party we throw at the Delta Sig house every year.

  Digging through my drawers, I glance over at my roommate and fraternity brother, Mark Montgomery. “Did you see my mask?”

  He rakes a hand through his short, auburn hair and slings a duffel bag over his shoulder, his muscles flexing beneath it. “Nope. You can borrow mine if you want. I’m about to head out for the weekend and have no plan on using it.”

  Annoyed, I slam the drawer shut, still trying to figure out where I left the mask, and straighten the lapels of my suit jacket. The thought of me in a suit causes me to laugh to myself. I feel as out of place in this outfit as Mark looks in whatever his new girlfriend must have forced him to wear. Tonight, he has on jeans, a T-shirt that fits tight against his chest and arms, and…loafers.

  I almost laugh aloud when I realize he’s wearing fucking loafers. He looks like everything he hates. Unlike the other rich guys in our fraternity, Mark is more like me than the rest of them. Seeing him dressed this way makes me want to give him hell, because I know he’d do the same to me. But I won’t. It’s as if we’re both trying way too hard to be people we are not.

  “This is the third time this month you bailed on a party. What could be better than hanging out here?”

  He shrugs, unaffected, and shoves his hands into his jeans pockets. “I have better things to do than fuck off with you idiots every weekend.”

  I narrow my eyes at him, a smirk slowly forming. “Like our Law and Ethics professor.”

  Mark hesitates and then walks past me, but I don’t miss him wink at me as if issuing a silent answer.

  By now, everyone knows Mark is hooking up with Professor Ford. He stares and licks his lips at her all through class. She’s hot, so, props to Mark on getting a woman like that, but he has denied it for weeks. Mark was never the settling down kind of guy.

  I shake my head, thinking about what has happened to my fraternity brothers over the last few months. First it was Hunter and Luca and now Mark? On top of that, my teammates, Bash and Clay, are both just as pussy whipped and practically married to their girls. No matter where I go now, I am the fifth wheel.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about. You’re just mad because your grades suck.”

  Following behind him and into the hallway, I lock the door and walk toward the stairs alongside Mark. “I’m not failing. Well, at least not yet. That class is so boring it’s hard to stay awake.”

  “I have no trouble,” Mark shoots back.

  “That’s because you’re too busy blowing kisses at Prof.” He knows I’m right, and ignores my comment, so I continue, “You’re only passing her class because of your extra curricular activities.”

  He laughs but doesn’t say a word. Like me, Mark couldn’t afford this school without help. He has street racing and whatever illegal activities he does when he leaves the house, and I have a combination of scholarships—one for football and one from my fraternity, both of which I will lose if I don’t get my grades back on track.

  “Is that my shirt again?” I ask, eyeing up his green Delta Sigma Phi T-shirt.

  Mark is around the same height as me—six foot four and about the same muscular build. We often wear each other’s clothes without realizing they don’t belong to us until one of us can’t find our phone, and it buzzes in the other’s pocket. The school hands out a lot of standard issue hoodies and T-shirts to all the athletes on campus. Combine all the promotional shirts with our fraternity clothes, and it’s easy to forget what belongs to who.

  Unlike Bash and Clay, who live in the off-campus football house, I’m stuck rooming with sixty dudes instead of my teammates. The old Victorian smells of ball sweat, sex, and old food more often than not, and has far too many people living under one roof. But I can’t afford to live like a baller like my rich friends. So, I’m stuck here until graduation in a few months. If I even pass, with how bad I am doing in school.

  Mark takes a cursory look at his shirt, as we make our way to the first floor. “Yeah, I guess it could be yours. Who the fuck can tell them apart, anyway? I’ll give it back when I come home on Sunday night.” Ma
rk reaches into his pocket and hands me the mask as we descend the stairs. “Before I forget, take it. Luca will get mad if he sees you without one.”

  I nod and take the black and gold mask that reminds me of something a Roman Emperor would have worn to a party. Before we reach the bottom landing, I slide the mask over my face and adjust the strap at the back of my head. Everyone in our fraternity has to wear the same one to set us apart from our guests.

  The living room is dark, with a trace amount of light from the colored lamps angled at various parts of the large, open space. We’re not even thirty minutes into what is usually the party of the year before the entire house fills up. Scoring an invitation is one of the most sought out things on campus.

  Girls line up for the chance. I never bring a date to our parties, and I wasn’t about to start for the last leg of my senior year. In the sea of people, I spot Luca, our president, and Hunter, my teammate and fraternity brother, with their girls.

  Sometimes, I wonder what it would be like to come to an event with a woman. Then, I dismiss the idea immediately after I realize I love being free. I’m not tied down and have no plans of that happening anytime soon. I have too much on my plate for attachments or clingy girls, because I have had my share of clingers over the years.

  Mark mumbles something about seeing me on Sunday night and retreats into the darkness. I don’t have time to respond before he’s gone.

  Searching the crowd for someone who isn’t with a date, my eyes land on Clay and Bash, as they walk through the door with their girlfriends. Even with their masks on, I can tell them apart from the people around them. Big guys like us tend to stick out. Clay Summers is the starting quarterback for the Strickland Senators, and Sebastian Prince is our star running back. Both of them are shoe-ins for the NFL. As the son of a former NFL player, Bash has gotten a lot of attention from professional scouts. Clay has no shortage of interest from teams.

  A few scouts have looked my way, but who knows what will happen. I screwed around too much to keep up with my grades and workout regimen. Coach is pissed. Bash and Clay are pissed. They all expect better from me. I should strive for better of myself. After I graduate, I will have nothing to look forward to other than working at the car dealership my uncle owns if I don’t get my shit together. I’m working on it or at least making an effort.

  Coach forced me into a tutoring program last year in hopes that it would whip me back into shape. The tutors I’d had were not the best, and most of the time, I had no idea what they were talking about. I’m not stupid or too ignorant to learn. I just don’t care for school. It was never my thing.

  Sitting through classes bores me enough to fall asleep through them, causing me to fall behind. My mom had wanted me to come home and register for online classes because she thought that would help me focus. But it’s school in general. When I envision my future, I see myself playing tight end for the Philadelphia Eagles alongside Clay and Bash—not working in an office. We’re not meant to become suits, working a nine-to-five schedule.

  Clay spots me, despite the matching suit and mask my brothers and I don and raises his hand to get my attention. I push through the throng of girls in elegant dresses and men in suits, all of them keeping up with the theme. Luca has rules for this party. If you come with a date, then obviously they already know you. But, if you come solo, then you have to keep your mouth shut, never speak your name, and just go with the flow.

  Works for me.

  His idea was a good one, an idea he had come up with long before he had a serious girlfriend. But his devious plan still benefits me. I can hook up with any girl at this party, and neither of us can say a word about it. We will never know who we’re with, and I’ve always like that part of it. For once, I’d like to meet a girl who has no idea who I am. A girl who could care less than I’m Shawn Finch. A girl who doesn’t want me for something she thinks I can offer her—like a big, fat rock and a ticket to becoming another NFL trophy wife.

  “What are you doing over here by yourself?” Bash asks, clamping a hand down on my shoulder. “By now, I would’ve thought you’d be taking advantage of tonight.”

  I shrug. “I just came downstairs.”

  Under normal circumstances, I would have thrown myself into the center of the dance floor and acted like the Finch everyone on campus knows, but school and football are weighing down on me hard. I know I’m fucking up big time. I know I need to get my shit together fast. Girls have taken a backseat to my real problems—because getting a girl to notice me was never one of them.

  Clay slaps his hand on my back, almost knocking the wind out of me from the force, unaware of his strength. He greets me with a nod and says, “Let’s get a drink.”

  I tip my head and motion toward the back of the house. With Tori at his side, Bash slips his fingers between hers and stalks off toward the kitchen with Clay and Jessica, the pair practically intertwined. At least when Mark is around, which is not often anymore, I have someone to shoot the shit with, while our friends shove their tongues down each other’s throats. Too bad he left. Jerk.

  Once we reach the kitchen, the air is thinner and easier to breathe without all the heat radiating off the people gyrating to the loud techno music thumping through the speakers in the living room.

  The floor still shakes beneath my feet, but at least I can hear Tori when she moves closer to me and says, “I invited someone here for you.”

  I raise my eyebrows at her. “Is that so?”

  “Yeah, I thought you could use a nice girl in your life.”

  I chuckle to myself, a wicked grin forming on my lips. “I don’t need a nice girl or any girl for that matter.”

  It’s the truth. I have too much shit going on in my life to give any more of myself than what I am already giving to football and my classes. Football practices and games alone are like a full-time job, let alone the heavy course load I had to take on so that I can graduate on time. Throw in Coach Davenport’s constant monitoring of my diet and exercise, or the fact I have to spend most days in the library with a tutor, and I have zero time left to spare.

  My dad was never around when I was a kid. He never paid attention to my mother or me and moved out a few years before I left for college. It was as if his obligation to our family was over once I was old enough to fend for myself. But the selfish bastard also left my mother alone and with no one.

  With me living away from home, I can’t hop on the train and be there in ten minutes if she needs me. So, I’d made her a promise before I left. Mom had begged me not to string someone along the way my father had her. She said when I find the right girl I’ll feel it, feel her in my skin and know that she’s the right one. To this day, I haven’t had that feeling she described with anyone.

  “Seriously,” Bash says, leaning into me, “you should let Tori hook you up. She knows what she’s doing.”

  More for my entertainment, I ask Tori about the girl she invited for me. Tori’s another scholarship kid, like me, and I’d always liked her because I can relate to her more than most of the people on campus. I’d told Bash for years after he’d lost her that he had to win her back. But she wouldn’t let him near her until a few months ago when a football accidentally hit her in the head, giving Tori a concussion and Bash a way back into her life.

  Tori tucks a blonde curl behind her ear and flashes a bright smile. “Well, her name is Ella. She’s super smart, kind of a loner, but I think you’d like her.”

  Acting like a typical guy, I ask, “Is she hot?”

  She rolls her eyes at me. “Of course you’d ask that.”

  “What else does he need to know, babe?” Bash says, as if reading my mind, and plants a kiss on her cheek.

  Tori wipes it away, pretending to be disgusted, even though she’s far from it, and smiles up at Bash. “There are more important things than looks, you idiot.”

  They share an intense moment of something—I’m not sure what—before Bash places his palms on both sides of her face and kisses her a
s if no one is in the room with them. Now, I’m the one trying not to roll my eyes. Clay and Jessica are already in their usual lip lock, mirroring Bash and Tori. I need an escape.

  “I’ll catch you love birds later,” I say to the group and seek out the beer.

  I’m not supposed to drink until the postseason is over. As our team captain, Bash yells at me all the time about my diet. So what if I put on a few extra pounds over the past year? In my defense, I need them with all the hits I have to take. Coach and Bash don’t see it that way. That is my excuse, and I am sticking to it. Plus, this is a party. What kind of loser would stand here and sip water? Not me.

  One of my brothers waits on people behind the long, oak bar on the far side of the kitchen. With a single nod, he knows what I want and slides a solo cup in front of me. I tip the cup in thanks and chug down half the liquid.

  Our house is huge, with vaulted ceilings, a large eat-in kitchen, a dining room large enough to host an army, and an endless number of rooms that make it hard to find the one I share with Mark when I get too hammered to see five feet in front of me. It’s easy to get lost in this place if you don’t know where you’re going. My grandmother had a house like this, with hallways that go on for days and old-fashioned crown molding that reminds me of another time.

  Even with all the space, this house is not big enough for sixty dudes and the revolving door of women that come through here. Most of the guys are slobs and forget to clean up after themselves. Luca runs a tight ship when it comes to the cleanliness of this house. But some of our roommates are a lot harder for him to manage. It’s not like any of us signed up to be babysitters. I joined a fraternity to meet women and party. The scholarship is also a nice perk of my membership.