Page 44 of Holden

Grateful Lindsay isn’t home, I motion for Holden to come in, and then lock the door behind him. He takes a seat at the bar stool and buries his head in his hands. Water trickles down his arms, behind his neck, from the stool to the floor.

“Let me get you a towel,” I say, aware that I too am leaving a puddle on the floor.

“I read your manuscript.”

My whole body freezes.

“It’s powerful, Chelsea,” he goes on. “In all honesty, it shook me.”

I abandon the idea of getting a towel and pull up the stool beside him. My heart feels like its cracking, spider-webbing into a million pieces. I hate that yet again, something that I’ve done is causing him such pain.

His voice cracks. “All this time, I’ve been thinking about how that monster…” He checks himself, clears his throat. “How your father took so much from me, and everyone around us on that day. But I never stopped to think about what it would do to his family.” He lifts his gaze, and our eyes meet. In his, I see so much hurt, it takes my breath away. “What it would do to his daughter.”

“I shouldn’t have lied,” I say. Holden tries to stop the apology, but I won’t let him. Not this time. “We were getting so close, and I was scared. Terrified that if I told you who I was, you’d…”

“Push you away, like I did.”

I breathe out a sigh. “You had good reason, Holden. I wasn’t honest. And the closer we got, the harder it was to go back and fix my mistake.”

He reaches over and grabs my hand. An electric shock goes through me. It’s been so long since Holden has touched me, that it almost feels like the first. My stomach tightens. He squeezes my hand. “The thing is, I haven’t been entirely honest with you, either Chelsea. And there’s something you need to know.”

Every hair on my body stands at attention.

“Your father, he…” Holden looks away. I can tell how difficult this us, but I’m not going to press. Whatever confession Holden is about to give must come from his own free will. My nerves are like livewires, restless in anticipation. Holden returns his gaze to mine. “…he didn’t kill himself.”

I suck in a gasp.

“Before he could kill all of us, Mason, Lucas and I tackled him to the ground, and we got a hold of his gun. Lucas had it trained on him—he wasn’t going anywhere.” He blows out a nervous breath. “We had a chance then, to bring him in to the police, make him explain what he did. But then….”

Holden’s eyes cloud over with grief, sadness.

I squeeze his hand, encouraging him to continue. The words are hard for me to hear, but I can only imagine how difficult this must be for Holden too.

“…we looked around at all the bodies.” His voice cracks. “And there was Mrs. Kratky, shot right in the head. I could barely make out her face anymore.”

I squeeze my eyes shut trying to block the images that are reeling through my mind. I can’t. All I see is red. So much blood….

Holden straightens, lifts his chin. “We made a decision, the three of us. It wasn’t right, I know that. But we just couldn’t let this man…your father…live. We murdered him in cold blood—and then we made it look like a suicide.”

I release the breath I didn’t even know I was holding. “You’ve been holding on to that secret for a long time.”

It’s meant without judgment, but I know all too well the cost of keeping something so big to oneself. It’s destructive, and a breeding ground for guilt. If I’ve learned anything from my studies it’s that guilt can make people react different ways. For Holden, it turned to darkness, and the inability to ever allow anyone in.

I can only imagine how he must have felt when Lucas and Mason opened up to the women in their lives, ultimately freeing themselves from the burden of keeping such a massive secret. Holden had no one.

Until now.

My hands tremble. His confession has shaken me, but I’m not mad. Holden has given me closure, the kind three hundred pages of written emotion couldn’t, and for that I am relieved—and grateful.

“It was time for it to come out,” Holden says. “I won’t apologize for what we did…but you had to know. I understand if you hate me for it.”

I’m trying to keep it together, but a tear escapes. “I don’t hate you.” And it’s the most honest I’ve been with Holden. “Being the daughter of a monster has given me a fresh perspective on right and wrong. The line between good and evil isn’t as crystal clear as most people like to pretend.”

God knows Mom and I suffered enough hateful judgement for crimes we didn’t commit. But I know that being his wife, or his daughter didn’t make me who I am.

“I understand why you killed him,” I say. My voice wavers, but not in doubt. “You were just kids.” Thinking about it now, I wonder if I wouldn’t have done the same under the same circumstances. “What defines you as a person are your actions now, moment to moment, not what you did in the past.”

Holden is staring at me with such tenderness, I don’t know if I can keep talking. He runs his thumb across my hand in a gesture so comforting it springs on new tears.