Page 114 of The Quit List

Someone’s missing, to be exact.

Because out here in the center of everything that used to be more than enough for me, there’s a Holly-shaped hole that I can’t fill with my own company. Being alone with my thoughts no longer feels like blissful silence, but echoing loudness.

I miss her presence—her laughter filling this cabin, her smile lighting up the evening darkness—and this feels like an incomplete moment without her by my side, soaking it in with me.

When she was here, she fit. I wanted to share everything with her that I previously wanted to keep for myself.

And over the past couple of days, as I’ve worked on stocking my gear room, adding the screen to the shower, and cleaning and tidying and putting final touches on everything, all I could think about was her.

I keep wondering if she’s okay, how she’s doing, how she’s feeling about going back to work tomorrow…

All I want to do is be there for her.

I shouldn’t have left her.

I should have stayed, kept taking care of her.

For so long, I rejected the thought of any kind of romantic relationship, not only because of my upbringing, but because I’d convinced myself that my lifestyle wasn’t conducive to love. That I couldn’t fit a relationship around the plans for my life.

But now, everything I used to think has been flipped. For so long, all I wanted was to escape the city, but right now, all I want to do is tell Holly face to face that I’m the one who misses her.

Show her that I’m serious about making this work. That I don’t want to just fit a relationship around my life plans, but have my life plans fit around her.

Us at the center, together.

Before I can think too much, I’m grabbing my keys and whistling for Rick.

“Come on, boy. We’re going home to Atlanta tonight.”

41

HOLLY

I can’t sleep.

After leaving Aubrey to watch Suits alone, I don’t know how long I spend tossing and turning in bed, wrestling with thoughts of work and Jax and responsibilities, but it’s pitch dark outside when my phone lights up on my nightstand.

You still awake?

I rub the sleep from my eyes, wondering why on earth he’s texting so late. He should be fast asleep by now so that he’s fresh to welcome his guests tomorrow.

Yeah. Laying in bed, thinking. What are you up to?

Also thinking.

What’s on your mind?

You.

What’s on yours?

You.

My heart picks up speed when I see the little bubbles pop up in response.

I was lying when I said Rick missed you earlier.

Well, not lying, coz I’m sure he does miss you. But I miss you more.