I cough toward the dashboard. I never know what to expect where Holland is concerned, but that request catches me off guard. “I don’t really do friends.”
“Bull.” Holland holds up his hands, ticking items off one finger at a time. “You’re friends with Piper and Ed. You’re friends with your electrician buddies. You’re friends with all the little old ladies around town. You’re friends with Collin.”
“That’s not the same thing at all.”
“Come on, man. You’re like a hermit. But you can be sociable when you want to be. I know you’ve got it in you to be an affable host. I don’t know why you choose to be reclusive and grouchy the other half of the time.”
Of course Holland doesn’t understand. In his defense, not many people understand me.
“Piper is family. My coworkers are different. So are the little old ladies. And Collin and I go way back. I don’t do new friendships, Holland. You know that.”
Especially not with women.
My track record there…well, let’s just say I don’t have a record because I tripped coming out of the starting blocks, face-planted in front of the whole town, and never raced again.
“You’ll like Poppy, and with her living next door, I told her she could count on you for whatever she needs, so you’re kind of stuck with her. She’s expecting you to drive her to family dinner on Sunday.”
I sigh. “Great.”
“Just be nice and look out for her, okay?”
“No promises.”
Holland laughs, but I skim my gaze away from the road and toward his face at the sound, because there’s some strain in it.
“What is it?”
“There’s one more thing I need you to do for me. And for Poppy.”
“And that is?”
“I promised her we would email.”
I raise my brows. “And?”
“She set up this whole account for us. One email address for her. One for me. She said it would be like the equivalent of the old timers writing letters while they were separated. It’s her way of keeping us connected. She knows my time will be taken up with trainings, practices, travel, and everything that comes with being on tour, so she thought this would be a good way for us to keep in touch and sort of get to know each other. We haven’t been dating for that long, you know.”
You don’t say.
“Since it’s over email,” Holland continues, “it won’t be time-sensitive information or anything like that, but we’ll be able to read and respond to each other whenever our schedules allow.”
I’m trying to follow my brother’s explanation here, trying to figure out what any of it has to do with me. I’ve got to admit, Poppy’s idea is cute—in a sickly sweet sort of way. It seems like just the thing Holland would be all over.
Very movie-esque.
“That sounds, um, nice.”
“I’m glad you think so.” Holland slaps me on the shoulder, which is awkward, because I’m driving and my back is up against my seat, so he ends up hitting my bicep. He shakes out his hand. “Jeez, man. You’ve been working out?”
“Pulling wire cables.” I’m an electrician. My workout is built into my work.
Also, I’ve discovered this YouTube trainer whose workout videos are dance-based, and I secretly love them. Think choreographed dance routines to music from Taylor Swift, Beyoncé, and theHamiltonsoundtrack. It’s addicting, and there’s no way I’m sharing that little tidbit with my brother.
“I need you to email Poppy on my behalf.”
Here I am, minding my business, thinking about how my YouTube dance trainer said she was going to drop a new video set to Shawn Mendes music today, when Holland dropsthatbomb.
“What?”
