The Last Days of Holly Hayes

Holly’s story

by Sandra J. Paul

© 2024

THE LAST DAYS OF HOLLY HAYES

First published: October 8th, 2024

© 2024 Sandra J. Paul

© 2024 Hamley Books Publishing

Cover design by Sleepy Fox Cover Designs

Interior design by Design by Lotte

ISBN 9789464945317

NUR 285

Theme Code: YFCB 15+

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Trigger Warnings

The Last Days of Holly Hayes holds mentions of the following:

Graphic scenes of a possible end-of-the-world scenario as described by the characters in this book

Mentions of paranormal and spiritual beliefs

Mentions of doomsday prepping

A few romantic love scenes between the main characters

Use of curse words.

This story will deal with these topics in a subtle way. It is not the intent of the author to shock or harm the reader. If any of this is not your cup of tea, please refrain from reading this book. Conversations that may seem hurtful do not reflect the opinion of the author.

If any of these topics may upset or trigger you in any way, please be warned. If you need any help on any of these themes, please find help near you.

Holly’s story

One

They always said that life was defined by nature and nurture. You were created by two people with a certain character or a set of character traits that they partially—or completely—transferred to you. Nature.

You’re hopefully raised by those same people too, but in many cases, other people would get involved somehow, whether through loss, adoption, divorce, or whatever. Even more people, family members, played a part in the process, all of them leaving their mark. Nurture.

In both cases, as a child, you often didn’t get to choose who those people were, where they came from, and what kind of character traits they brought with them. You didn’t get to choose anything. And often, that meant that you acquired what they passed on to you, whether it was by nature or nurture.

I was one of the lucky ones. Born and raised in a loving family, from people who never once cheated on each other and stuck together, no matter what. My extended family was just as kind. Everyone cared about each other. Everyone got to be involved in whatever important decisions needed to be made.

My mom and dad were normal, hardworking, kind people, who hardly encountered any difficulties in their lives, except for the part where they wanted more than one child and my mom almost died to fulfill that wish. Her second pregnancy was one from hell, but she always said later on that it was worth it.

My sister, Emma, and I differed four years in age, but we had always been extremely close. I remembered what it was like to see my mom lying in bed for months in a row, too scared to get up in case she would lose her unborn child. That fear transferred to me, and I remembered very clearly, growing up, that I couldn’t shake it off. Emma became my protégé.

I was too young to remember every detail but still old enough to realize that it wasn’t normal for a mother to spend day and night in bed like that. I remember the fear and anxiety, the constant care and the concern my dad radiated while looking out for her and me. I remembered my grandparents from both sides coming by constantly. I remembered weeks away with my grandma, to give my mom some rest.

In the end, though, my sister was born, and I doted on her from day one, even though I didn’t remember those details either. Even now, I was still that big sister in every way, caring for her and about her, wanting to keep her safe from harm. Which hadn’t always been easy. Just like everyone else in our family, I’d been overbearing, while there was nothing physically wrong with her. She’d been pretty mad about that in the past, so I tried to ignore my feelings.

“I’m not made of porcelain,” she said one night, when she came home from meeting a friend. She’d gotten soaked through and through, and my mom and I rushed to hand her the biggest towel we could find. She was annoyed.

“Sorry that I care,” I muttered.

“You care too much.”

She did have a point there. I tried to do better since.

My dad owned a real estate agency in the area where we lived and did really well for himself. He bought and sold more houses in the area than anyone else.

My stay-at-home mom took care of us. After Emma was born, she never went back to work. Once Emma went to school, she didn’t try to find another job but preferred to do charity instead. She could easily combine it with our care, and since Dad earned more than enough, there was no question whether they could afford that.

Dad was extremely proud of her. She ran most of the fundraisers for a lot of charities in the vicinity, and she did an amazing job too. Everyone knew and liked my parents.

Not once did they neglect me while loving Emma. I heard stories sometimes about kids suffering due to favoritism toward the other, but that never happened to me. I got everything I ever wanted and more.

When we moved to a gorgeous lake house that my dad had fixed up all by himself, everything just came together. Before the move, we lived in a beautiful house in downtown Beau, our hometown, but we were happy to leave it behind to move closer to the lake. Every day felt like a vacation after that.

We were one big happy family. My parents were my idols, and I vowed to become like them someday. I would find a man who would respect me as I would respect him. Someone who held the same values, who loved children, who wanted to be the best person he could be. I wanted someone I could trust blindly, who wouldn’t lie to me.

I thought that Daniel was the one.

Daniel, eighteen years old just like I was. We met in our final high school year, about six months before the end of our senior year. He wasn’t a typical high school student. He wasn’t a jock, even though he had the physique. He wasn’t one of the nerds, even though he had the brains. He was just a regular guy, walking around school, trying to make the best of things on the challenging road to college.

SATs defined my senior year. I had a goal and a purpose in life, and I was determined to get to where I was headed.

Ever since I was a kid, I had one major passion: to help people and animals medically. I soon discovered that the medical profession was not for me. I didn’t have the patience or stamina for it, let alone the intelligence to work seven years or more to get a medical degree.

Of course, as I would discover much later, becoming a vet was just as challenging in many ways, and in others even more. Working with animals meant working with creatures who couldn’t express themselves, who were often helpless and could not tell you where it hurt.

As a child, I used to play vet for our adopted stray cats. As a teenager, I had chosen my life’s goal. Animals instead of humans. The helpless, the weak, and the caged.

I had a particular preference for wild animals, mostly the larger species. I spent hours at the zoo, just watching all those magnificent animals while feeling sorry for them too. I loved our local zoo because it was brand-new and huge. They had plenty of space for all the animals, and they did their best to make their lives as comfortable as possible.

Most of all, I loved the safari we went on when I was in my teens. My mom and dad surprised Emma and me for my sweet sixteenth birthday. They had arranged a two-week safari in South Africa, and I loved every single second of it. It was absolutely incredible.

I knew without a doubt that I wanted to study to become a vet, so when the time came to write down my college choices, I kept two things in the back of my mind.

One: I wanted to be close to my parents and sister so I could travel home easily and by car, bus, or train in case of an emergency. And I wanted to go home as much as I could during breaks.

Two: I wanted to learn how to take care of wildlife. Minneapolis was the only place I had set my heart on, so when I got in, I was the happiest person in the world. I had written a heartfelt letter explaining why I was so enthusiastic about their university, expounding with passion about their specialty course on wildlife. I told them I would do anything I could to become the best in my field.

So when I graduated from high school with honors, I was over the moon. I had a long summer ahead of me without a single worry, and I would enjoy every single second of it. With Daniel.

Or so I thought. Because Daniel did not get into any of his colleges of choice. Daniel didn’t get his grades up high enough, despite the fact that he was intelligent enough. He was hooked on gaming, something he hadn’t told me when we became something of an item, and that messed up his SATs.

He got his high school degree, but not with flying colors and definitely not with the kind of grades needed to get into the bigger universities. He didn’t know what to do.

I remember that conversation all too well. Daniel came over to my house on graduation day because my dad had invited him to have a celebration dinner with us. Daniel’s mom—she was divorced, and his dad was out of the picture—wasn’t planning to do anything, so it made sense that he would come over.

When he arrived, he was moody and gloomy. He was not the boy I knew. Before that day, he had been nice and polite, always in a good mood, always cheerful. That time, he was in such a bad mood that my mom took me aside and inquired about what was going on.

“Did you have a fight?” she asked.

“No, we haven’t fought once,” I said. “But I do get why he’s upset. He’s angry that he didn’t get in.”

“I’m sorry, honey, but that is not your fault,” Mom said. “If he’s only here to mess things up for you, then he’d better go.”

“Do you want him to go?” I asked.

“That is your choice to make. What do you want to do?”

“I’d like him to stay,” I said after a short contemplation. “But only if he perks up a bit. I hope he does.”

“Do you want me to talk to him?”

“No, I’ll do it,” I said.

Daniel and I had been the typical high school sweethearts up until that point. Just hanging around, holding hands, kissing, going to first base, making out on several occasions. It wasn’t that big of a deal. I wasn’t even sure if I liked him enough to keep him around once I moved to Minnesota.

Long-distance relationships never really worked out, especially when you lived in different states. I just wanted to have fun with him over the summer, maybe even sleep with him too, even though I wasn’t sure about that yet. I was still a virgin. I didn’t believe in casual sex; it had to mean something to me.

With Daniel, I wasn’t sure yet if he was the person I wanted to be with for my first time.

I returned to the living room and found him sitting on the couch with his legs crossed. He was still in a foul mood. Dad was trying to get through to him, talk to him, find out what was going on. When I walked in, Dad jumped up and smiled.

“Shall we go? I’m starving.”

“Can I just have a quick word with Daniel?” I asked.

“Sure, honey.”

Dad kissed me on the forehead, hugged me quickly, and said he’d be in the kitchen if they needed me. I smiled and sat down on the coffee table in front of Daniel.

“Are you okay?” I asked, trying to get him to look at me. He didn’t react.

I sighed and thought about the joy I had felt just a few hours ago. Why did he have to go and ruin the night?

“Look,” I said, “my dad booked a table at this fancy restaurant, and you are still welcome to come with us, but not like this.”

He looked at me indifferently.

“What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean. You’re angry and upset. I don’t like it.”

“Why wouldn’t I be angry?” he said, mimicking me. “Look at you, the golden child. You get everything you ever wanted, and I’m stuck in limbo as always.”

“I’m sorry, Daniel, but that’s not true. I worked hard to get this opportunity.”

“Don’t you think I worked just as hard?” he snapped.

I looked away.

“Holly?”

“No,” I said after a painful silence where he looked at me as if I had just sprouted horns. “To be honest, I don’t think you did.”

He snorted. “That’s rich. Never took you for such a cold-hearted bitch. You’re not even trying to console me, are you?”

“I’m not a bitch,” I said, taken aback. “How can you say that?”

“I didn’t deserve that hurtful remark.”

“And I’m sorry if it sounded hurtful, but it is the truth. You’ve said so yourself. You thought that you’d wiggle it, but you didn’t.”

He shrugged.

“And besides that, you didn’t even think to congratulate me,” I added. “You walked in, were in a foul mood from the start, and now you’re trying to ruin my day. That’s not very fair to me, is it?”

That was too much for him. He got up, reached for his jacket, and walked away.

“Fuck you,” he said before slamming the door on his way out.

Later that night, he sent me several text messages, apologizing for his behavior. I ignored them all. During the following night, they became worse. Hurtful, angry, damaging, gaslighting. I blocked him. But somehow, while I tried to pretend that I was fine, I already knew that this would not be the last of it.

I was right. He never stopped texting me all summer. He used other people’s phones to do so, mostly his mom’s, who had no clue what he was doing.

He showed up at the lake house. He followed me around town. He became this terrible, angry jerk who stalked me until I cried my eyes out.

We took out a restraining order. He kept his physical distance, but he always found ways to taunt me.

Daniel ruined my last summer at home.

Two

After I left for Minnesota, it felt as if I was free, but then again, I wasn’t. Even though I was supposed to focus on my new life as a college student, I couldn’t shake the fear he would follow me to Minneapolis.

He didn’t.

He got tired of it, which was more than okay with me. I just wanted to move on from that terrible experience and forget all about it.

Besides, I didn’t care about guys right now. All I wanted was to study. That’s what I was here for.

Two days before my first year started, my parents drove me to Minneapolis, where I settled down quickly in a small building with only ten girls. My roommate, Anya, and I got the basement, which was one of the two dorm rooms available at the time. The other one was in the attic. Another two freshmen students moved in there.

I loved the room. It was huge, with lots of space and a separate bathroom Anya and I got to share. I also discovered quite quickly that she was totally different than I was, crazy in many ways but hilarious in many others. She was loud and often rude, and she loved sex.

During those first months, I’d seen about five guys walking around on campus with her. Fortunately, she had the decency to have sex outside of our room, something I didn’t even have to ask her about.

We became close friends, shared food and drinks, music and books. We went to the movies a lot, often with other girls from our building or people I’d met in class, and we just had a great time. Life was good, with its small ups and downs, but mostly ups.

The one downside to it all was that I missed my family terribly. With me gone, there was this whole new dynamic in our family. I called or texted Emma daily, which was great, but it was not the same. I could tell she was bothered by it too.

In the end, though, by Thanksgiving, everyone had settled down into this new routine. I was studying hard, had great friends and a fantastic roommate, loved my courses, and I’d found a job at the local vet, where I could help out with some chores and basic things.

When Christmas arrived, I took the train home. Mom and Dad picked me up while Emma was at home decorating the house. It was amazing to be back there with them.

Unfortunately, Daniel was there too. Somehow, he had gotten wind of me arriving and showed up at the train station. He just stood across the street without doing anything, but it was enough to bring back that same feeling of terror he had inflicted upon me back in the summer.

This time, though, I fought back. I had grown a spine, had gained some self-confidence, and I wasn’t prepared to let this asshole ruin my Christmas. My dad saw him too. He sighed, balled his fists, and moved away from our car.

My parents and Emma knew about all of this. We had discussed it many times. They had told me that Daniel was studying at a local college and still lived with his parents. He was doing a major in accounting. They said he had a girlfriend, so they believed he wouldn’t bother me anymore.

But there he was.

“No, Dad,” I said, stopping him before he could move. “I’ll handle this.”

Dad wanted to stop me, but Mom held him back.

“She needs to do this,” she said.

And that was true. I marched over to him as he casually leaned against a wall, pretending he wasn’t there for me while keeping an eye on me at the same time.

“Well, well, Holly Hayes,” he said. “You’re looking good. Wanna hang out together this Christmas?”

“No, Daniel,” I said, staying as calm as I could. “I don’t. In fact, I think I’m going to pay your girlfriend a visit and tell her about the fucker you are and the restraining order you have just violated. See how she reacts to that.”

“I didn’t. You walked over to me,” he said.

“Actually, you did. You didn’t keep your distance to begin with, and you should have walked away. I can walk wherever I can, but you can’t. So I’ll be calling the police now. What do you say, huh? I should talk to your mom too, tell her what you’ve been up to.”

“Don’t you dare,” he said, turning pale.

“Oh, but why not? You fucked up my summer, and you’re obviously planning on fucking up Christmas too, so why should I consider your feelings?”

“Still stuck-up, I see,” he said. “You haven’t changed a bit.”

“Still the biggest asshole in the world,” I retorted. “But you know what? I don’t care anymore. You’re done.”

I took out my phone. He got nervous.

“Look, you’ve got it all wrong, Holly. I came to apologize for my behavior. That kid was stupid, okay? He was jealous and humiliated when you told him to go away. I’ve changed.”

“You were the one who left,” I reminded him. “You did that, not me. I never harmed you in any way.”

I took out my phone and tapped in 911.

“No. Please stop, okay?” he said, moving toward me. I stepped backward. “I’m sorry. I didn’t—okay, I fucked up, I admit it. But I didn’t want to hurt you this time.”

“You have a great way of showing that,” I said. “I pity your girlfriend, you know that? Does she even know that you’re a stalker?”

He turned red. “I’m not.”

“Then walk away and never come back. Respect the restraining order. Respect that girl. If I ever catch you doing this to anyone else, I’ll call the police and tell them that you violated the rules.”

“What evidence do you have?” he said angrily.

I pointed at my mom.

“She filmed everything.”

Daniel deflated like a burst balloon. Gone was the bravado, the arrogance, the bully act, and terrible remarks. He looked like the old Daniel for a moment, before I remembered what he had done to me.

“I just miss you, okay? I’ve been missing you since the day we broke up.”

“The day you walked away,” I corrected him.

“Whatever. I fucked up. I want to try to make it work again.”

I was stunned. Then I started laughing.

“What?”

“If you really think I’ll allow you within one foot of me ever again, you’ve got it wrong, asshole. You’re a horrible human being.”

I turned around and walked back to my dad’s car. Daniel never realized how much I was shaking and how terrible I felt doing that. I had to stop myself from turning around to apologize for my harsh words. But then I remembered that he had been putting the blame on me for his own behavior and that he would never change.

When I got into the car, he was gone. That was the last time I ever saw him. Months later, I heard from my dad that he had applied for a college transfer and was now studying in South Carolina. His mom moved with him, his girlfriend didn’t. He never came back.

After Christmas, I felt liberated, and Anya noticed it too. Before the confrontation, I had been quite wary about dating, because of my horrible experience with Daniel, so I had brushed off any invitations that might have led to something more. But now, it felt like it was time to start living.

Some guys had shown interest, I couldn’t deny that. I wasn’t a photo model like Anya was or the gorgeous TikTok/Instagram/influencer girl that got so much attention—according to Anya, mostly to get laid quickly and dumped even quicker—but I had my fair share of guys wanting to go out on a date.

I went out for coffee with a few, had dinner with a couple, and went to parties with friends, where I kissed a couple of guys. None of them really felt like this is it, but it was fun, and I liked hanging out with them.

Anya helped me to choose carefully. She had a sixth sense when it came to the weirdos, which helped to ease the experience of dating.

By the end of the first year, a guy in most of my classes, called Simon, asked me out for a date. It turned out to be great. He was fun and kind and treated me with the respect that I needed to feel with guys.

We went out a couple of times, and about a week before finals started, we had sex. Simon knew I was a virgin and took his time making sure that I enjoyed the experience.

We continued to date for a while and had sex a couple of times, but neither of us felt enough of a spark to continue seeing each other during the summer. In the fall, at the start of our second year, we both silently decided that it had been fun while it lasted. We never officially broke up. It just happened. I was okay with that.

I realized all too well that it wasn’t normal for someone not to long for the person they were supposed to be with during a long period of time, so mentally I had already said goodbye to him.

We met up for coffee, talked about it, and agreed to let each other go. I was happy that he taught me that sex was great. It had been a wonderful and beautiful experience, and I would cherish it forever, but that was it.

“I liked being with you,” he said, “but it isn’t enough for me. It doesn’t feel like we are the perfect fit. Does that make sense?”

“In every way,” I said. “But please, let us be friends.”

Strangely enough, that’s what we did. Simon became one of my best friends on campus. For months, our relationship grew into something I could describe as besties. It was great.

I helped him with biology, he helped me with math. We saw a bunch of movies together, hung out together, and just liked being around each other. We never had sex again.

He told me would start dating again, I said I wanted to take it easy for a while and concentrate on my studies. He called me a bookworm, I said he should be careful that someone new wouldn’t mess up his schedule. He laughed it away.

A couple of months later, Simon introduced me to his new girlfriend, Amanda. They had been dating for a few weeks by then.

Within five seconds, I knew she was the possessive, controlling type, and she didn’t like me at all. One, I had dated her boyfriend. Two, we still hung out as friends. Three, he talked about me all the time.

Within the hour, I knew he was smitten with her and that I would hardly see him again from that point on.

I was right.

Simon stopped hanging out with me. No more movie dates, no more studying together. No more banter and fun moments. It broke my heart a lot more than Daniel’s rudeness had ever done. It also made me wonder what was wrong with me. There had to be something wrong, right?

Simon dropped out of college and ended up marrying Amanda when she got pregnant. She was a classic Bridezilla.

Our third year. Time flew when you were having fun.

After a tranquil summer with my parents, I returned to college and focused on my studies. The goodbyes were a routine now, and I was a lot more at ease around my sister, no longer fearing for her constantly.

I didn’t actively date anymore, despite Anya’s insistence that I should. After Simon, I had seen a couple of other guys, but none of them really appealed to me, so I had decided to let it go. If someone came my way, fine. If not, that was fine too. The first semester went really well. I had a lot of fun with a lot of people, enjoying my freedom. I made new friends, studied hard, and enjoyed hanging around with the girls from the dorm.

Christmas came and went. Another amazing vacation, spent with my closest family. January and February flew by quickly. Every year went faster than the previous one.

Until that one day in March.

Anya and I were at this coffeehouse we loved. It was a campus hotspot, the place to be to find out any and all gossip. It was crowded as always, but not in such a way that it felt overwhelming.

Anya prodded me.

“Did you see that guy? The cute one?”

I got shaken out of the brilliant world of veterinary medicine and looked up, confused.

“What guy?”

“The barista. Look at him. Why didn’t I notice before that he’s so cute? Damn.”

The man she was talking about moved behind the counter as if he were used to being there. I remembered having seen him before, but usually I just came in for coffee and walked out quickly. This time, we were sitting here having our coffees because I had a test in an hour, and I needed to double-check some things. Since it was pouring outside, takeout coffee was a no-go this time around.

I looked at the baristas behind the counter, who were chatting amicably with each other and their customers. Everyone was always chitchatting about random stuff like football or baseball or something like that. Even in a medical college, sports dominated most of the conversations between the male students, and undoubtedly between a few of the female students as well, but for different reasons.

The other barista was attractive, but the one Anya pointed out, with the cute haircut and the glorious eyes, was the one that stood out to me the most. I felt an instant attraction. A twinge that I hadn’t felt often before. I just didn’t have the time right now to think about it.

“Not interested,” I said, going back to my laptop.

“Come on, Hol. What, are you blind? Take a closer look.”

I looked up, annoyed. “Why? I’m not looking for anyone.”

“Not for you. For me.”

“Oh.”

I looked at my best friend and felt a sting of disappointment rush through me, realizing that she had set her eyes on this guy before I did, meaning that our rule of ‘first come, first served’ was valid. We had made that agreement a long time ago to avoid any arguments about guys.

“He’s cute,” she said. “Don’t you think?”

“Yeah, he is,” I reluctantly agreed, when all I really wanted to say was, don’t touch him, he could be mine someday.

Anya seemed satisfied with my response. She got up.

“Hey, what are you doing?” I said.

“Why, I’m going to talk to him of course.”

“Now? I have a test in an hour. I don’t have time for this now,” I protested, knowing that, if she got her way, she would forget everything else and just go for it.

“I don’t have a test,” she remarked. “I’m not even in your classes.”

I reacted irritated. “Then stay here and do your mojo, but I’m leaving in ten minutes, and I want to pass that goddamn test, so if you’ll excuse me, I’ll focus on my book again.”

Anya sighed. “You’re boring.”

“Good. I’ll be a boring vet someday if you leave me the fuck alone right now. I’m trying to focus here.”

“Nobody ever focuses in a coffee shop.”

“I do all the time if the people around me would just shut the hell up. Will you just do your thing? Otherwise, sit down and leave me alone for a while.”

She sat down and sipped her coffee. She was quiet for about thirty seconds before she started talking again.

“He’s very cute. Look at that beautiful long hair. It’s been a while since I saw anyone who could carry his hair that way and look damned good.”

Long hair? Wait, what?

I looked up, catching a glimpse of the barista.

“Oh, you mean the guy on the right?” I said with relief I couldn’t disguise.

“Yeah, who else? Oh...” She stopped and grinned. “You like the one on the left, don’t you?”

I shrugged and looked away, but she caught me like a fly in her web.

“Holly Hayes, are you telling me you’re finally crazy about someone? You, the college ice queen?”

“I’m not an ice queen,” I protested fiercely.

“Yeah, you are. You’re the only one in college who hasn’t had sex the entire two years she’s been here.”

“I’ve had sex...”

“Oh? Who with?”

Fuck. I’d never told her about Simon because we had kept it low-key. I thought long and hard to come up with a convincing lie. I wouldn’t hear the end of it otherwise.

“Okay. There was this one guy at a party and I had sex with another guy a few nights later.”

“The one at the party stuck his tongue in your mouth and was too drunk to feel you up. I was there, remember? He fell asleep on the couch five minutes later. Who was the other guy? You never told me about him.”

I became painfully aware of the fact it was eerily quiet around us at the coffeehouse. I looked up and found a number of college students looking at us, amused. God. Great first impression.

Embarrassed, I looked embarrassed at the baristas, but to my relief, the cute one was gone. The other one was still there, and he couldn’t stop staring at Anya.

“Gotta go,” she said and got up.

Everyone around us kept staring at her.

“What?” she said, throwing evil glances around. “Never heard adult women talk about sex? Pathetic.”

Everyone laughed, shrugged, and went about their business. Anya stood in front of the counter and looked the long-haired guy up and down.

“I wouldn’t mind talking about sex with you,” he said.

“I don’t like talking,” she replied.

I quickly packed up my things and hurried out of the coffeehouse as fast as I could.

A couple of hours later, Anya was waiting for me outside the main building. She looked flushed, like she always did when she’d just had sex.

“Seriously?” I said. “No, never mind, spare me the details.”

“Did you know that coffee place has a great backroom with a comfy couch?” she said.

“God, gross.”

“It wasn’t gross. It was freaking hot. That guy has amazing hands.”

“Seriously, Anya, I don’t want to know, okay?”

“Sorry. How did the test go?”

“It was fine.”

“That sounds bad.”

“It wasn’t bad. Just fine.” I sighed.

I tried to rub away the headache that had been bothering me for a few hours. I’d had a late-night shift at the veterinary clinic downtown with two emergencies.

Now that I was in my third year, they let me help more often, which meant I was also given a lot more responsibility. Even though I loved my job, it was exhausting to combine it with my studies, so I was actually considering getting a job without any responsibility at all.

We took the main path across campus, and Anya kept very close to me, which was odd. We weren’t that touchy-feely with each other.

“What are you doing?” I said when she started increasing our pace.

“I’m helping you out.”

“Huh? What?”

“Look in front of you, idiot.”

I was confused. Until I saw him, the guy from the coffeehouse. The cute one, not the long-haired one who’d fucked her. He was coming from the other direction and walking straight toward us while glancing at his phone.

“What? Not now,” I said. “I want to head to the dorm, drop this ridiculously heavy stack of books, take a shower, and get dinner.”

“Excuses, Holly Hayes. If you don’t want him, I’ll take him.”

“What? No!” I said before I could stop myself.

My reaction made her grin. God, I wanted to wipe that smug look off her face. She let go and picked up her pace even more. Before I could stop myself, I rushed forward, panting.

“You could help me, you know,” I said.

“Why? You can manage. Come on.”

Just like in a movie, he was heading toward us, as we were walking in his direction. But he had no clue who I was or what Anya was planning. He was just doing his thing, minding his own business. No lightning strikes, no extraordinary events happened when we reached each other.

He saw us coming, I could tell, and he took a step aside just in time. The moment he did, Anya shoved me in his direction. The next moment, I crashed into him and dropped my books. I could almost hear Anya snigger when I reached up and touched the guy’s arm.

“Oh God, I’m so sorry. Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he said, “all good. It’s fine. No harm done.”

He tried to get away, obviously not willing to lose any time. For a second, I thought it would be over before it even started, but on impulse, I stopped him again.

“Are you sure?”

He seemed confused.

“Yeah, of course I am. Are you?”

I couldn’t help smiling. It was so damn hard to conceal my joy when he reacted as I had hoped. God, I sucked at this. Why was I even doing this to myself?

“I am,” I blurted out.

He smiled lightly. “Oh. Well, all’s good then.”

He moved. I stopped him again. What the hell are you thinking, Hol? Stop embarrassing yourself!

“I’m Holly Hayes,” I said hastily and offered him my hand. He studied my hand while he accepted it. Anya sniggered again.

“Nice name,” he said.

“Thanks. And you are?”

He seemed stunned. “Excuse me?”

“Your name. What is it?”

“Oh. Dylan,” he muttered.

“Dylan who?”

“Excuse me?”

I smiled patiently. “Your full name.”

“Oh. Sorry. Dylan Blair. Nice to meet you.”

“You have a nice name too,” I blurted out. “It already sounds like a doctor’s. Doctor Blair, please come to the desk right now.”

He laughed, revealing his beautiful teeth. Yeah, I had it bad alright. He was just so charmingly, innocently perfect, and I liked him already.

“Does it now?” he spoke slowly.

“Yep, it does.”

“Well, that’s good to know. But I assume that you’ll be a doctor one day too?”

My books still lay scattered around us, but I didn’t care. All that mattered was his soft touch on mine. It felt electric, eternal. He’d stopped trying to get away. He was genuinely interested in me now.

God, what was I doing to myself? Why did Anya put me in this position? I reluctantly let go of his hand.

“Yeah, I will be, but I don’t think my patients will be calling for me like yours will,” I said, mentally kicking myself for being such an idiot.

“Why not?” he asked, not getting it, of course.

“I’m a future veterinarian. So unless a cat suddenly starts talking, it’ll be someone else calling my name.”

He smiled. “Oh. Well, at least your patients won’t have a whole list of demands ready.

“Hm, I don’t know about that. They might ask for special treats. Or extra pats.”

He relaxed. “I’m sure you’ll be happily fulfilling those demands. There are worse things than handing out extra pats on a cat’s furry back.”

“I’m sure there are,” I said, laughing. He laughed with me. Laughed. So did I. Anya openly mocked me.

I resisted kicking her in the chin.

A silence followed between us, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was warm, fuzzy, cozy. He was just perfect. Too good to be true.

Daniel came to mind. Not Simon. This guy didn’t even look like Daniel, but he acted the same. Would he turn into an asshole too? I didn’t want this, not really, but at the same time, I did. Third time really was the charm.

“Nice to meet you, Holly Hayes,” he said after a while. He hesitated. “Want to get a coffee with me sometime soon? I know a good place. Kind of work there too.”

“I know. I’ve seen you around,” I said hastily, again kicking myself mentally for being so obvious, but there she was, the idiot in me, who just couldn’t shut up. “And yes, I would love to have a coffee with you when you’re off work.”

“Deal.”

He picked up my books and handed them over to me.

“If you want, I can walk you back to your dorm. Those things seem pretty heavy.”

“That’s okay. You were heading in the other direction, and Anya here can help me. Right?”

“Right,” Anya said, even though she didn’t make a single attempt to do so.

“Okay then. But I will see you around, right?” he asked nervously, as if he were scared I would disappear.

“You will, I promise. Here, give me your phone.”

He seemed taken aback by my request. His hands wandered off to his pockets. I’d swear I could see more than one phone tucked away, or maybe he was a smoker. It was a bit odd.

He dug out the phone in his right-hand pocket, unlocked it, opened up his Contacts app, and gave it to me. I typed in my name and phone number, then sent a message to myself. It chimed on his phone.

“There, don’t lose me now,” I said.

“I won’t,” he promised. “But I do really have to go now. I’m late for a shift.”

“Another one?” Anya said. He looked at her in surprise. “Sorry, it’s just that we—I—saw you there this morning too.”

“Ah, so you know the place?”

“Everyone knows the place.”

He narrowed his eyes and looked at her before returning his gaze to me.

“You’re not stalking me, I hope?”

Anya laughed. “No. I fucked the guy working with you earlier, so you don’t have to worry.”

He was taken aback. So was I.

“What guy?”

“Long-haired, sexy guy.”

“What, Tom?”

“Yep.”

“He’s my boss. He’s married.”

Anya’s mouth fell open.

“He’s your boss? He looks like a freaking college student.”

“He’s not. He’s thirty. Got married last summer.”

“Fuck.”

“Yep, that’s what he does,” Dylan reacted dryly. “He fucks around. It doesn’t matter who; he likes all genders.”

For the first time since we met, Anya was lost for words. She seemed sick, and I knew why. She never fucked married—and older—men. Thirty in our books was old. Dylan seemed shocked by her reaction.

“Oh, I’m so sorry. I thought you knew. Everyone knows. He’s the biggest slut in town.”

“And your boss. Should you even be talking about him like that?” she remarked dryly.

Dylan shrugged. “Everyone does. But anyhow, I really have to go. I’m so sorry.” He turned to me. “So I will see you around?”

“You can bet on it.”

He smiled and walked away. I looked after him. He stopped after a few steps and turned around, smiling even more broadly when he noticed I was still around.

“See you soon.”

“See you,” I said.

Anya turned to me. “That guy’s an asshole.”

“Who, Dylan?”

“No, his boss.”

“Well, it’s a good thing you know now instead of later,” I said, placing my free arm over her shoulder. “Come on, these books are killing me.”

She finally took over a couple of books and walked back with me to the dorm. Freed from my things, I plunked down on the bed and thought about the strange encounter with Dylan Blair. When I took out my phone, I noticed he had sent me a message.

Thanks for bumping into me. Nice meeting you.—Dyl

I sent one back.

You’re welcome. Hope to bump into you again soon.—Hol

From that moment on, I was hopelessly lost. I was never going to date in college again? Yeah right.

Three

I never thought that life could get this good, but it did. From the moment I saw Dylan, and the second we started talking on that warm spring day on campus, I knew that my instincts hadn’t betrayed me about him.

I couldn’t even begin to explain why, but I just knew that he was the person I was meant to be with. He wasn’t like Daniel, who had always had two sides about him. Nor was he like Simon, who had been a friend more than a romantic partner.

I was drawn to Dylan like a moth to a flame. There was something different about this guy. He wasn’t like the others. Where most male students seemed pretty confident, pretending they had everything under control and acting cool while struggling to keep up in class, trying to make sense of all the medical mumbo jumbo we got thrown at us, Dylan Blair looked the part of a serious medical student with only one focus in mind: to succeed in every way.

He wasn’t a nerd, not even close. He wasn’t a geek or a guy walking around in a suit with a briefcase. No, he wore tattered jeans, worn-down shirts, and sneakers that had seen their best days five years or so ago. It was just that look on his face, that determination not to fail, as if he were planning to save the world one day.

If someone had told me he was a scientist, I would have believed it too. His whole demeanor felt so mysterious, as if he carried a heavy burden that no one else could carry for him. It was odd.

I noticed this on the first real talk we had at the coffeehouse where he worked. He had sent me a text to invite me for coffee after his shift ended. I happily obliged without telling Anya, who would take matchmaking credit for sure.

When we sat down, I started rambling about my personal life and college. I got that way when I was nervous. I talked about Beau, my parents, and my sister. He told me he was an only child and lived in Montana, with the mountains in his backyard. It sounded impressive.

“Tell me more about your family,” I said. “What are they like?”

“Busy, hardworking people. They are devoted to our community. I want to be like that, too, someday.”

In the days that followed, I tried to figure out who Dylan Blair was. We immediately started seeing other a lot. I didn’t even know who instigated it, but it just happened.

We connected in so many ways. We were both ambitious and hardworking, we both wanted to work and study, we wanted to experience college life to the fullest, without the casual sex. We spoke openly about it, even on that first date.

“Look,” I said at some point, remembering Anya’s encounter with Tom. “I just want you to know I’m not my roommate. I don’t go around sleeping with people casually. I don’t do one-night stands. I don’t suck up to guys in hopes they’ll fuck me against a wall or something. I’m not like that at all. I’m not even sure if I’m ready for a relationship right now. It’s something I need to discover.”

“In other words, you want to take it slowly.”

“Yeah, I do. Is that okay?”

The smile on his face said it all.

“God, yeah,” he said, releasing a sigh. “The thing is, I don’t sleep around either. I’ve had one relationship on campus, and it wasn’t even a real one. It was just this girl that I liked, but she wasn’t it for me. I’ve had a high school sweetheart, and that’s about it. I haven’t been seeing anyone for the past year or so, and to be honest, I...”

“You weren’t really looking for it.”

“Yeah.” He looked at his coffee. “Please don’t take this the wrong way. I do like you.”

“No, I totally get what you mean,” I said quickly. “I feel the same way. Honestly, it was Anya’s idea to run into you. I didn’t even know she was planning to get your attention that way.”

“I’m glad she did,” Dylan said. “You are extraordinary, Holly Hayes. Where did you even come from?”

“Beau.”

“Haha.”

That first encounter in his coffeehouse was just the best moment I’d had so far on campus, and I never wanted it to end. I wanted to stay with him, but in the end, we said goodbye and promised to catch up the next day.

We went out for breakfast. We had lunch and dinner together. We spent time together, studied together, and talked. It just happened and felt completely natural, as if it were normal to want to be with someone from the moment you met them.

As it turned out, in the weeks and months that followed, life only got better. The more I got to know Dylan, the more I fell in love with who he was. He was everything I looked for in a partner, and somehow, he didn’t even realize.

He was the one, I just knew it. Anya had known it too. The one who fitted me perfectly, the guy without a shred of arrogance, anger, or jealousy in him. The one who didn’t care that I went out with male friends on occasion or needed some time alone now and then.

We had a lot in common, which made our lives so much easier. We could talk for hours about books and movies. He had a weak spot for art movies but secretly preferred superhero movies, liked to debate for hours on political topics, and detested the injustices in our country. I agreed with him on a lot, but not on everything. Some of our views were so different that we agreed to disagree, but we still loved to debate about it.

We were also very different in many ways. Our choice of food, what songs we liked. He loved soccer, I loved football. He liked jazz, I could bear it but only just. I loved opera—I know, a thing my mom taught me. He could barely stomach it. He loved ambient music to study with, I couldn’t bear a single sound in the room when I was throwing myself into my books.

My greatest fear when we met had been that he might be casually seeing someone else. I mean, why wouldn’t he be? He would have fitted into anyone’s life. He was the type of guy you befriended, got to know, and took home to your parents without feeling ashamed about specific tics or quirky tendencies. Guys like him were trustworthy and normal and had no serial-killer character traits. They were just perfect.

Everyone who knew him felt the same way. Everyone who knew me congratulated me on finding that one person many would call their soulmate. I didn’t believe in soulmates, but I was certain that, if such a person existed for me, they would bear Dylan’s name.

The more we got to know each other and hung out together, the more our lives became entwined. We kept our rooms of course, but we spent more time at mine than his because Dylan’s roommate Harry and Anya somehow became friends with benefits, meaning fuck buddies.

By summer, Dylan and I had become “Holly and Dylan,” and I’d gotten him to open up about himself, not only to me but to other people too. He’d gotten to know my friends and I, in turn, met the few he had. Our relationship was going strong. There wasn’t a single moment that I’d regretted having bumped into him. We had our small differences, but not a single argument during the entire time we were together.

The one thing we did not have in common, though, were our families. I talked about mine all the time, he hardly ever spoke about his. At first, I only briefly wondered why, but after a while, I began to worry that something was amiss.

He was always very apprehensive and cautious when the subject of his family came up. He didn’t really like to talk about his life at Midstone, his high school years, or his high school sweetheart, a girl named Allison. He told me about her but brushed it off as something unimportant, just like he didn’t feel my relationships before I met him were a big deal.

“Let bygones be bygones,” he said. “I don’t care about past boyfriends, as long as they don’t come around stalking you.”

“You don’t have to worry about that,” I replied, laughing. “And I suppose you don’t have a secret child with Allison?”

“God no.”

There was one other thing that got me rattled on occasion, but it was difficult to discuss with him without bursting into tears. It reminded me too much of Daniel, and it scared me too.

When we were dating for about a month and we practically spent every spare moment together, after making sure we were working the same shifts and everything, he let down his guard around me. Before, he had always kept his guard up, even while we were talking. Just like the subject of his hometown and family was avoided as much as possible, he also didn’t want to discuss why he carried multiple phones with him.

I asked him about it at some point. He was shocked that I had noticed. I saw him with different phones all the time, but somehow, he didn’t seem to know I was aware of that.

“Why all these phones?” I said casually one night, when we were lying in bed. “You’re not secretly married or anything, are you?”

“Married?” he repeated, as if he couldn’t get why I would ask such a question.

“Yeah. Men who have multiple wives and lovers do that.”

“I’m a college student, Hol, as you obviously know.” He sounded irritated, almost angry, as if I were asking the most ridiculous thing ever.

“Lighten up, Dyl,” I said. “It was a joke.”

But still.

He became quiet after that, shifted into one of those odd moods of his where he was thinking about stuff that wasn’t important enough to share.

“You’re right,” he said. “I do have three phones.”

“But not three wives, I hope?” I said, trying to lighten the mood.

He smiled. “No. Life is complicated enough with just one wife.”

“Hey!”

“Sorry. But you’re right. I should give you an explanation. It’s odd when you come to think of it.”

“Dyl, don’t,” I said, stopping him before he could continue. “You don’t owe me any explanation at all. It was just silly banter. I was curious, but I have no right to be.”

“Actually, if we are continuing this relationship, which I hope we are, you should know a bit more about me.”

“Okay?”

He dug into his pockets and fished out three phones. The one he used the most was the biggest one. My number was in there. The other two were smaller and older. All three were active.

“I know you’re going to think that this is silly, but this is my main phone, the one I use all the time.”

“Right.”

“My dad gave me the other two.”

“Oh? Why?”

“Back home, it’s hard to get a decent connection in the mountains, especially on these new devices. It’s like the more expensive they get, the less you can do with them.”

“Oh yeah, I know,” I said.

“Connection back home is always crooked, so my dad, my mom, and I all walk around with one major phone and two spares. He calls them our emergency phones. It’s a family thing. It comes from having to deal with emergencies on a daily basis. My mom, as you know by now, works as a mountain ranger. She’s specialized in aiding and assisting tourists, usually when they get lost.”

“But because the mountains are so difficult in terms of connection, your dad gave her two spare phones,” I said, filling in the blanks.

“Exactly.”

“But why give you two as well?”

“That’s who he is,” Dylan explained, smiling lightly. “For some reason, it makes him feel at ease, I guess. I don’t really know why, but he seems more relaxed knowing I have these phones on me at all times.”

“I see,” I said. “Now I get it.”

“Everyone there, living nearby or working in the mountains, has two phones. That’s just how it is.”

“Everyone?” I said.

“Yep.”

“That’s crazy.”

He seemed taken aback and defensive.

“That’s how it goes in the mountains. You don’t know what it’s like over there. If you didn’t grow up there, it would be hard to understand.”

His reaction unnerved me. I had already noticed how his moods often got the better of him. He could change from outgoing and extroverted into this extremely private person. Sometimes, he would gaze at one of the other phones and—so I guessed—he would get some information or news that he didn’t like. And he would act completely different. When it was really bad, he would head to his dorm and be on his own.

This was a point of concern to me, but not in such a way that I feared he was hiding stuff from me or trying to drive me away. Whatever happened, he never lashed out at me or sent me away.

I already knew that I was in love with him.

The next step was taking our relationship to the next level. And so we did.

On a hot May evening, I invited Dylan to my dorm room, knowing Anya wouldn’t be there for the night. I was initially hesitant about taking him there, not because I was ashamed of having him over, but because it felt like the next level.

Dylan was perfect to me, except for the secrecy. That scared me more than I cared to admit. I wasn’t ignorant nor stupid. There was more going on with those phones than he cared to share, but I brushed it off. I was not prepared to let my wild thoughts get the better of me.

He was not Daniel. That was all I needed to know.

I had come prepared. Fresh sheets on the bed, a light dress I loved to wear, sexy but decent lingerie, my favorite perfume. I wore sandals instead of sneakers and had even painted my toenails. As if he would care.

He was wearing a light T-shirt and jeans. He wore the perfume I had given him for his birthday recently. We had celebrated with a bunch of his friends. Burgers and fries, which was all we could afford.

We both wanted it to happen tonight. We’d been putting it off for various reasons, but in the end, I firmly believed that we both wanted to make sure that this was not going to mess up our relationship. We wanted it to count for something.

When we walked through the building, one of his phones buzzed. He frowned, and I knew why. It was one of the other ones, what he called the emergency phone.

He tried to ignore it at first, but then he took it out of his pocket to read the message. That troubled him even more.

“Is something wrong?” I asked, worried. “Do you need to go?”

He tucked away the phone and smiled weakly.

“No, not at all! It’s—well, it’s my dad. He keeps me up to speed on what’s happening at home.”

“Wait, did something happen in Midstone? Is your mom okay?” I asked, alarmed.

“No, no, it’s not my mom. It’s just things at home, you know? It’s not important. I just need to figure out some stuff, that’s all. It’s fine, don’t worry about it. It can wait until later.”

It wasn’t the first time this had happened, far from it. I had figured out by now that this particular phone was the one his dad used the most, and whatever he told Dylan was enough to shake him to the core. To be honest, I was starting to believe that his dad was manipulating him, using him, forcing him to deal with things he shouldn’t be dealing with at all.

Dylan had told me he had a complicated family, but he never elaborated further on the subject, and I didn’t ask. I didn’t want to know.

“Are you okay?” I asked. “We can postpone.”

“No. I want this.” He smiled, took my hand, pulled me against him, and kissed me. I could feel his hard-on pressing against me. “God, you smell so good.”

“Please fuck me tonight,” I whispered.

His cock grew even bigger. It pushed against the fabric of his jeans and up against my leg.

“Oh yeah,” he said. “God, yes.”

When we entered the room, he was shocked to see Anya’s side of it. Her area was dark, damp, and cluttered, with books, clothes, and shoes scattered everywhere. When we first moved in together, I had bought a big bookshelf and placed it between our two areas so I wouldn’t have to deal with her mess.