“We’re going to try to make the best of it, that’s for sure.” Holland shifts in his seat so he’s looking at me. I feel his gaze on the side of my face as I drive along the Cashmere County coast, heading toward the airport. “I’m going to need your help.”
“My help?”
“With Poppy.”
“With Poppy?”
“What are you, a parrot?”
I frown. “What do you need from me? I’m already putting her up in my place. My in-need-of-some-serious-TLC place.”
What Holland doesn’t realize is that with Poppy and her sister living next door, I’m going to be more pinched for time to fix up that half of the duplex. My spare time is minimal as it is, and now, instead of being able to pop over there and work on a project whenever my schedule allows, I’m going to have to clear it with them. It’s going to make getting the apartment up to par that much more challenging.
“I’ve already told you not to worry about that. Poppy is used to making do with less-than-ideal living situations.” Holland waves me off, and I’m suddenly wondering what other places Poppy has lived. Maybe getting locked outside in her towel by a sticky door is a blip for her. No biggie.
“She’ll try to help you with some of the renovations,” Holland continues. “That’s how she is. She’s such a helper. She makes everything better.” He leans back in his seat with a sigh, and I can almost see the hearts floating out from his eyes.
“You really like her?”
“She’s easy to like.”
I make a humming sound. “What did you need from me?”
“I need you to be her friend.”
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 the Hamilton soundtrack. 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 drops that bomb.
“What?”
“You. Need to email. Poppy. For me.” Holland says it like he’s ordering fast food at a drive-thru window, breaking apart the sentences into manageable chunks. As if that’s going to help me process his request.
“What the heck, man? Why?”
“Because I’m going to be swamped. I’m going to be exhausted. I’m not going to have time to sit down and wax poetic to Poppy at the end of rounds upon rounds of golf. Any mental energy I do have left, I’m going to need to use for visualization exercises for my upcoming tournaments.”
“I get it,” I say slowly, trying to be agreeable, trying to make him see what a preposterous request he’s making. “Why didn’t you tell Poppy that? I’m sure if she’s as great as you say she is, she’d understand.”
Holland looks solemn, almost contrite. “She hasn’t asked me for anything. I’d feel terrible denying her this. She’s so excited about it. Of course I had to go along with it and be excited too. But there’s no way I can keep up my end of the deal. That’s where you come in.”
Maybe I should be offended at my brother’s assumption that I have all the time in the world. He doesn’t realize that I’m working over sixty hours a week as an electrician, and on top of that, I’m the town’s resident fix-it man. I’ve got more irons in the fire than I can juggle. Most of the time, that’s a good thing. It’s one of the ways I cope with the rumors that swirl around me every time I’m out. If I’m busy, then I’m too preoccupied to dwell on what everyone has to say about me.
But! None of that matters right now. What matters is that Holland is looking at me with puppy-dog eyes. He’s begging me with his pupils to agree to this. It’s pathetic.