Free One Real Thing by Anah Crow and Dianne Fox Page B

drink of his coffee, wishing he’d thought to order a cold drink instead.
    Every turn of the ring wound Nick tighter, and nothing he did made the heat fade. He knew he had no place preventing Holly from connecting with other people.
    “If you’re actually interested in someone,” he said, trying to dispel his tension by setting Holly free to find someone else, “but not if it’s just to pass the time or make yourself feel better.”
    “I don’t think I’ll be interested in anyone anytime soon.” Holly looked at his fingers as though he’d only just realized what he was doing. “It never works out quite the way I think it will. Not in the good way.” He set Nick’s ring properly on his finger, then reached for his coffee.
    When the waitress came back with their food, Nick took the opportunity to distract himself by watching Holly eat. Some distraction—Holly’s lips parted, the fork slid in and every thought flashing through Nick’s head needed to stop.
    A crash from the back—nothing too loud, just a stack of dishes losing an argument with gravity in some dishpan—startled Holly into dropping his fork. His breath caught and his lips got tight and pale with anger. When he picked the fork back up, he stabbed it through a strawberry. It was like the noise had broken the spell and the tension was ramping up in him again. It wasn’t fearful this time; this was all frustration.
    “This can be done any fucking time,” he said flatly.
    That was enough to bring Nick back to earth. Seeing Holly so easily startled and frightened was painful. He reached out and caught Holly’s hand, stopping the fork on its path to Holly’s mouth.
    “Hey. Look at me.” When he had Holly’s attention, Nick smiled his approval. “Good. You’re good. It’s just us, remember?”
    “You shouldn’t even have to be here. I’m sorry.” Holly’s expression was more hurt than sorry, as if Nick being there was painful, but he did as he was told.
    “I want to be here.” Nick squeezed Holly’s hand, gently, then let go.
    “You always know what’s best for you.” It was a statement, but the flicker in Holly’s eyes said he wasn’t so sure. Still, he didn’t argue. He just nodded and bit into another strawberry.
    Nick had no idea what was best for him. Or rather, he knew, and it didn’t seem to matter. He let it go, though, and cut into his waffles.

Chapter Seven
    Having a new cell phone came with one huge disadvantage: Holly needed to give his number to his family, or at least Emile. Emile, his father’s assistant for the last fifteen years, was often his only connection to the family. He liked Emile, and not just because Emile could always get money to him, no matter where Holly ended up. Emile never lectured about Holly’s long absences, never asked questions. That didn’t stop Holly from feeling guilty, but at least it was all self-inflicted.
    “The doctor at Bellefield says your mother was trying to get in touch with you,” Emile said. Bellefield. Fucking Bellefield. He’d never even heard of fucking Bellefield.
    “Didn’t Dad tell her I was fine?” When did she move? Why didn’t anyone tell me? Holly couldn’t bring himself to ask, because of everything it would say about him that he didn’t already have the answers.
    “He did, I did, but she has been insistent, especially since she recently regained her phone privileges. You should update your information with Bellefield. At least for the sake of the poor soul who got your last number.” Emile was always so damn thoughtful. Fucking Emile.
    “What happened to her phone privileges?” Holly, sitting alone on the black leather love seat, curled up and rested his forehead on his knees. She’d lost them before, at other places. It meant things were going worse than usual.
    Why didn’t they tell me?
    Because Emile reads the fucking tabloids, his brain supplied.
    Right. Fucking Emile.
    “She’s had them back for two weeks now,” Emile said. “She calls