11. Holly

Chapter 11

Holly

Why didn’t I tell Lucas everything right then? Why did I lean on him as if I couldn’t stand on my own? I didn’t need touch, didn’t need anyone to hold me up. But when he’d stood close, his warmth and steady presence undid me. Just for a moment, I’d let myself lean in and fall apart.

He’d smelled like snow and Christmas—crisp pine with a trace of cinnamon—and it wrapped around me like the crackling fire back at the cabin. Solid, unshakable, he’d stood there, and I let myself imagine what it would feel like to truly let go. To fall and know he’d catch me, hold me steady, see the cracks in me, and still think I was worth it.

I wanted to believe it—God, I wanted to. But the weight in my chest pulled me back. Letting someone else carry me wasn’t the answer. Not now. Not for me.

Still, as he’d unpacked my things with that calm, deliberate care, I saw it in his eyes—quiet compassion. And in that stupid moment, I’d wanted a hug more than I needed to keep my pride. But instead, I’d stood there, wishing I could let go and tell him everything—about the wedding, my anger, the kiss. I should’ve apologized, but I didn’t. I’d watched him, steady as ever, as if he was trying to piece me back together in silence.

And now, two days later, with Kai and Bailey still sick and my head still spinning, I was drowning in all the things I hadn’t done nor said. I’d let Lucas walk out of that door, and I’d done nothing to explain, nothing to set things right. The regret gnawed at me, sharp and constant, and I couldn’t shake it. He’d messaged me twice, asking if I was okay, and twice I’d ignored him. So, instead of messages, I was now getting a string of images, memes, and gifs that asked things in their own way.

The one I looked at the most? A teddy offering hugs.

For fuck’s sake.

He said I needed Christmas in the cabin, told me I needed a tree, and added many other things to his list. I tried not to feel like he was judging me for what I was doing in my splendid isolation.

What was his problem? Why wouldn’t he leave me alone?

And why was I constantly headed out to the car to get that single damn bar to download what he’d sent?

I was losing my shit.

On day three after his visit, feeling the drag of being alone forced me out of the cabin and into town. So much for rest and keeping my head down, but I had no signal or new books downloaded on my e-reader, and the television had about three channels that worked. I debated taking the car, but I didn’t have snow chains, and even with snow tires, I didn’t want to chance my luck with the soft banks forming on the bends and sides of the road.

“Get out of the house,” I told myself and the toaster I was staring at. Given this wasn’t a Disney movie, I didn’t get a reply, but the idiocy of talking to inanimate objects had me bundling up and walking the half an hour or so, door-to-door, all downhill into town.

The crunch of snow under my boots was the only sound, crisp and sharp, in the stillness of the morning. I was halfway down the trail when I noticed the same little chickadee from earlier, flitting from branch to branch just a few steps ahead of me. Its black cap and tiny frame were unmistakable, a little puff of feathers hopping along like it had somewhere important to be.

“Good morning,” I said, feeling slightly ridiculous but saying it anyway. After all, I’d already talked to my toaster. The bird cocked its head at me before fluttering to a lower branch, close enough for me to see the white edges of its tiny wings.

I stopped, watching it for a moment. It chirped once, a quick, bright sound, and then flitted further down the path as if daring me to keep up. I couldn’t help but laugh under my breath.

“You following me now?” I asked. “Or are we just walking the same way?”

The bird hopped to another branch, this one higher, shaking loose a slight dusting of snow. It drifted to the ground, soft and quiet, and I shook my head, feeling strangely comforted by its presence.

“All right, I’ll take that as a yes,” I murmured, continuing down the path. The chickadee stayed close, flitting ahead, doubling back, and chirping occasionally as if it had something important to say.

Should I get some bird food? They had those little seed balls at the hardware store, didn’t they? Or was there a special kind of feeder they’d need? I’d check in town. It wouldn’t hurt to leave something out, especially with how cold it had been.

The thought stuck with me as I walked, the bird still dancing from branch to branch above me. It wasn’t much, but maybe having it around made the mountain feel less empty.

That and Lucas visiting.

My breath puffed out in white clouds, the cold biting my cheeks as I walked along the snow-covered path. As I reached town, I had my first look at Wishing Tree in the snow since I’d been there for Kai’s wedding. Back then, I’d been too wrapped up in my bullshit, too focused on the fact I was losing everything to appreciate the surroundings. I’d been wallowing in self-pity, getting drunk, and talking shit instead of celebrating Kai’s love story.

Of course, I’d seen the town in the summer in previous years, one-night stays to visit Kai, usually on the way to somewhere else. Still, it had a different vibe as soon as it became Christmas central, and today, my view of the town was different. It was quiet, although tourists were milling about, drawn by the promise of early Christmas magic despite the fact it wasn’t even Thanksgiving yet. The whole place was something out of a Christmas card, with its quaint, snow-covered streets and festive decorations.

In the center of it all was the giant oak tree, a carved sign announcing it was the Wishing Tree . Its branches were heavy with ribbons where people had hung their wishes, and I paused, watching as the ribbons fluttered in the breeze. What would I wish for if I gave in to the cutesy marketing?

Maybe for my brain to figure its shit out?

I’m not putting that on paper where someone else could see it. I remembered Kai reading and then keeping Bailey’s wish like a talisman. Something that personal being in someone else’s hands scared the hell out of me. The media would have a field day, and all those years of hard work of allowing the world to see me a certain way would be eroded even more.

I bypassed the honesty box and the small line of kids and stopped to get my bearings. First, I wanted to check in with Kai and see if he was okay and if I had full bars of service. They might be well enough that I could visit. Along with more messages from Lucas checking in with me—for god’s sake, I didn’t need dancing trees on my phone—there were a few from Kai asking me to call when I could, and he’d make the most effort ever to stay alive so he could talk to me.

Hashtag dramatic best friend.

HOLLY: Hi!

It seemed like a safe way to start.

KAI: Hey! He lives! Lucas said he saw you! Are you doing okay?

HOLLY: I should be asking you that. How are you feeling?

KAI: Remember that game against Boston?

I tried to pick out a Boston game that might be relevant, and it hit me—a memory I couldn’t shake. Kai boarded, flat on his back, eyes shut, not moving, and the gut-wrenching fear that froze me in place all over again.

HOLLY: That bad?

KAI: Yep.

HOLLY: Shit.

KAI: And Bailey is ill now. Fuck, I’m so over the flu. No visiting.

HOLLY: Okay. Do you need anything?

KAI: No, it’s all good.

KAI: Shit, I wish I could see you, but I’m fucked right now. Give me a couple of days. Don’t leave town. Promise me, Hols.

I stared at my phone. What did I say? Maybe I wished he was well so I could see him, talk to him, and get his perspective on what was next for me. Hell, perhaps I should have hung that wish on the tree.

HOLLY: I’m not leaving. We’ll talk later. Go to sleep!

KAI: Sure. Going back to bed.

I turned in a circle, getting my bearings, knowing that Lucas was probably across the square in The Gift Emporium. With its large front windows decked out in twinkling lights, it was busy with customers, so I couldn’t see him, but yeah, that was where he worked.

My heart did this weird stutter, and I was rooted to the spot for a second. In my head, the order of apology went Kai, Bailey, and then Lucas, but every time I’d seen him, I’d been out of my mind. I wanted to know why he kept sending me messages. I wanted to be serious with him and talk, but the last thing I wanted was another awkward encounter, not when I was still trying to piece together what I was doing here.

He said I needed Christmas in the cabin. I couldn’t face the tree lot, exhausted at the thought of dragging that back up the hill.

Pet shop first.

“Should humans feed chickadees in the winter?” I’d asked the pet store, and boy, did I get an answer from Lily, the owner.

She glanced up, her brow quirking. “Of course you can. It’s a good idea. They burn a ton of energy staying warm, and food can be hard to find when everything’s frozen.”

“So… what do I need?” I asked, eyeing the shelves of birdseed, suet, and feeders behind her.

Lilly grinned. “Depends. How committed are you to being the local chickadee hero?”

I laughed. “Committed enough to keep them alive. Let’s start there.”

Fifteen minutes later, I walked out with not one, but several smaller bags of supplies I could carry in my backpack—black-oil sunflower seeds, a block of suet, a small bag of peanuts, and a fancy little feeder Lilly swore would “keep the squirrels out.” More than enough for one bird. Hell, more than enough for a whole flock of chickadees.

I couldn’t help but shake my head. “You’d better appreciate this,” I muttered to the street and got a funny glance from a passing tourist taking photos of a nativity outside the church. “Way to look sane, Hollister.”

I still wasn’t ready to see Lucas, so I ducked into The Story Lantern across the street from the Haynes family store. I don’t remember a bookstore being here when I visited last time—I was sure it used to be a grocery store or something. But I loved reading, and thankfully, it gave me a convenient hiding place to lurk around near the gift store, and it meant I could stock up on books. They might also sell chargers for my e-reader. The bell above the door jingled as I stepped inside, and warmth wrapped around me, carrying the familiar scent of books and coffee. It was a cozy little place, with rows of wooden shelves crammed with books of all kinds. A fireplace crackled in the corner, and a few people were in scattered armchairs, lost in coffees and books.

“Welcome to The Story Lantern for Pirate Day, ye scallywag!” A pirate with a name badge that read Pirate Wesley greeted me, holding out a basket of golden chocolate coins. My gaze settled on his other badge—a rainbow announcing this was a safe space.

“Argh, Matey!” the man bellowed in an over-the-top pirate accent. “Grab yerself some booty!” He leaned in closer, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “Stops me from devouring the whole treasure meself, savvy?”

“Um… thank you.”

I took one and pocketed it. Then, before he could talk more, I hurried to the aisles until I was hidden from him and alone in my own space, letting the calm atmosphere wash over me. I’ve always been able to lose myself in books, but the usual magic wasn’t working, probably because Lucas was right across the road.

Even as I pretend-browsed the shelves, I couldn’t stop thinking about him and how he’d looked at me with frustration. I hated that he’d seen me like that, and I hated to see any reminder of his disappointment and anger again.

I need some time, I told myself, running my fingers over the spines of the books. Some time to figure things out, to get my head straight. I’ll be okay. I have to be.

But as I thought about it, I couldn’t shake the feeling being in Wishing Tree would be more complicated than I’d anticipated.

“Can I help you find something?” Pirate Wesley asked, thankfully dropping the accent.

He appeared younger than me, with a mustache and short beard that made him seem as if he’d stepped out of some swashbuckling era of movie stars. He smiled in encouragement, his eyes bright, and his easygoing friendliness lifted my spirits.

“No, I’m good,” I replied, trying to keep it casual, although the warmth of the store and his welcoming demeanor were starting to chip away at my defenses.

“Are you sure? You looking for books?”

“I don’t know,” I lied. Of course, I was looking for books, for God’s sake.

He leaned in slightly, his tone playful. “Don’t tell anyone, but this is a bookstore.”

A reluctant smile tugged at the corner of my mouth. “No? For real?”

“What kinds of things do you like to read?” Wesley asked, leaning in as if we were sharing some big, important secret. “Horror? Non-fiction? Crime?” His voice dropped lower, playful. “How about romance?”

I blinked, caught off guard by the shift in tone. Was he flirting? The grin on his face and that glint in his eyes felt like flirting. But maybe that was how he was: friendly and charming to everyone who walked through the door. Still, how he leaned in a little closer made my heart stutter.

“Uh, not my thing,” I muttered, trying to play it cool. “More into action, adventure… thrillers.”

Wesley’s smile didn’t falter, his eyes sparkling as he tilted his head. “Hmm, no romance? Not even a little? Everyone likes a good love story.”

Something in his voice made me feel like he was waiting for me to admit to something.

Great, now I’m imagining things.

“Not really.”

He wiggled his eyebrows and handed me a book with a bright, swooping title and a man with dog tags staring out. “Maybe you just haven’t found the right story yet.”

I laughed as I took the book, feeling awkward.

Wesley watched me, that teasing smile lingering as he waited for me to say something.

“Maybe I’ll give romance a shot,” I said, trying to sound as if my mind wasn’t spinning in a million different directions.

His grin widened. “There’s hope for you yet.” He winked, stepping back but still holding my gaze. “I could get you a coffee and recommend a few… if you’re curious.”

Now, that was flirting. I shifted on my feet, feeling my cheeks warming despite the cold air outside. “I’ll… keep that in mind,” I said, offering a small, awkward smile.

Wesley’s smile softened. “Are you staying long in town? Just here for the Christmas celebrations?” he asked, his voice warm as if he genuinely cared about the answer.

I hesitated, the truth sitting heavy on my tongue. “Not sure yet. A while, maybe.” It was the first time I’d admitted any of my plans out loud, and the weight of anxiety knotted in my chest. He hadn’t indicated he recognized me, and why would he? Not everyone knew hockey, even if Wishing Tree was home to Kai Buchanan. “Just… taking some time away from everything.”

Wesley’s eyes flickered with curiosity, but he didn’t push. Instead, he leaned in slightly, still playful. “Well, if you need a guide to all the local Christmas traditions—or just someone to share some hot chocolate with—let me know. I’m an expert on both.”

“Thank you. Um… do you sell chargers for e-readers at all?”

He clutched his chest in pretend horror. “An e-reader!” he exhaled and then grinned. “Aye, this way, you cursed landlubber!”

He helped me find the charger I needed, joking about real books versus cloud books and then dragged me away.

“Come and see the sale!” he said, and I focused back on him as he led me to a table near the front of the store, where a stack of used paperbacks with red stickers caught my eye. Before I knew it, I had ten of them, a mix of thrillers and adventure novels, plus a couple of brand-new hardbacks that had grabbed my attention. I didn’t need all of them, but there was something comforting about losing myself in real-life pages instead of my e-reader. A good story was something I could disappear into without overthinking the rest of my life.

We headed to the counter, and I started stacking the books there. Wesley rang them up, still chatting about the different genres and what had been popular lately. Slipping in yet another invite to discuss books over coffee, which I smiled at. A coffee with a cute guy could be what I needed. I’d take my books back to the cabin and stoke the fire, and then I could sit, chill, and wait for Kai to be better.

No need to talk to Lucas at all.

“Where are you staying?”

I paused, still wary of anyone knowing my business, but Wesley seemed so open, so chatty, and something about him made me want to talk.

“Kissing Cabins,” I murmured.

He grinned. “I love it up there. Are you going further up to the skiing?”

“Not my thing,” I said as he checked the back of a second-hand book for a price.

“Be careful driving up, I had an incident on the first bend, you know the one with the snapped pine?” He glanced at me, and I nodded as if I knew what he was talking about. “That was me.” He rolled his eyes. “After that embarrassing situation with our resident firefighter hottie, a written-off car, and a snapped pine later, I’m going nowhere in the snow.”

“I walked into town.”

“You did? Well, look for Jeremy outside the library with his pink taxi; he’ll take you back up for a couple of dollars.”

“I can walk,” I was stubborn, and it wasn’t that far.

“Believe me when I say, talk to Jeremy.” Wesley seemed concerned, and maybe I was giving off incapable vibes, but I wasn’t in the right headspace to argue.

“Okay, I will.”

Mollified, he carried on packing and pricing my books. The door opened and a rush of cold air hit me like a slap, making the warmth inside feel fragile. A tall woman strode in, grabbing an armful of books from the sale pile. She moved with purpose, not glancing at what she was picking up, and headed straight for the counter to line up behind me. She cursed when her precarious hold on the books slid sideways.

I helped her stack the books neatly before Wesley, who was still ringing me up. She wore a jacket with High Peaks Skiing embroidered on it, the kind of gear that looked made for severe cold, and we exchanged a smile.

“More books already, Sal?” Wesley asked with a smile.

“We’ve been upgraded to a severe snow warning.” She glanced out of the window, frowning at the sky, which was already darkening. “The NWS is calling for eighteen inches.”

“Oh no,” Wesley muttered.

“Hopefully, the town won’t get hit as bad.”

“Are you shutting the ski slopes?”

“Yep, and I want to get home with all the books before the snow hits and we’re trapped in the residences,” she said, her voice brisk.

I swallowed hard, listening to her words, a shiver running down my spine. The thought of being trapped by anything made my stomach tighten. There was no chance in hell I was going up the mountain any further than my cabin.

“That bad?” Wesley asked, frowning, before he waved at her pile. “Take the books, and we’ll settle up later.”

“Thank you,” she said, bundled the books into a large bag, and headed out as fast as she’d arrived. It wasn’t long after she left that the door opened again, and another frigid gust of air swept through the store. Was Sal back for more books?

I glanced to my left, and my stomach dropped. It wasn’t Sal, the ski lady.

It was Lucas, and he stared at me. The surprise on his face quickly morphed into a half-smile.

“Hey,” he greeted me, his tone neutral, but tension hung between us. Or at least, I was tense. I recalled that he’d called me Holly and Paul in my dream. I was both those things, but I remember feeling warm that he’d used my nickname and my real one instead of the generic Hollister.

“Hi again,” I replied. “Thank you for helping me with the unpack?—”

“No worries.”

“I’ve been getting your messages.”

“Good.”

“Umm, why?—”

“Need to keep checking you’re alive.”

“I have to go out to the road to check them.”

“Gets you out of the cabin,” he nodded.

The awkwardness settled in, thick and heavy, like the piling snow outside, and for a moment, neither of us said anything. I could feel Wesley’s gaze flicking between us, probably wondering what was happening.

This was the last thing I needed—another encounter with Lucas, another reminder of everything I’d been avoiding. But here we were, face-to-face, with no easy way out. And suddenly, the books in front of me didn’t seem like such a great escape after all.

Lucas placed a box on the counter, talking to Wesley and ignoring me. “Duncan said you sold out of the decorations and needed more,” he announced.

“Thanks, Lu,” Pirate-Wesley grinned at Lucas, who smiled back so wide that my heart flipped.

Lu? Pirate-Wesley got to call Lucas Lu? Not only that, but Lucas smiled back, and his eyes crinkled, and there was a dimple, and fuck… he was so perfect when he smiled, and I wanted to see more. Were Lucas and Pirate-Wesley flirting now? Were they a thing? Why did it even matter? It wasn’t like I was jealous or anything.

“Coffee!” I exclaimed as Lucas turned to leave. I knew that Pirate-Wesley was staring at me, Lucas, then back at me. “Lucas, please, will you get a coffee with me so I can say thank you?”

“I’ll be at BB’s in thirty or so,” he said.

And left.

Well, that wasn’t a yes, but it was an invitation to meet, right?

“BB’s?” I asked, a little lost, as Pirate-Wesley packed my books into two paper bags, and I handed over my card.

“Biscuit in the Basket, you can’t miss it. A diner, all themed after this local hockey player, Kai Buchanan. His dad owns the place, and hockey’s not my sport, but the Kai Pie they made in his name is yum.”

“Okay, thank you.”

I left before Wesley could ask me how I knew Lucas and why I was meeting him for coffee, although I had never agreed to one with him.

Right now, I wish I had an answer.

I found The Biscuit in the Basket Diner easy enough—how could I not, with all the hockey memorabilia cluttering the windows? My stomach twisted as I got closer, and that familiar knot of panic tightened when I saw the photos plastered to the glass. There was Kai, mid-laugh, dressed to skate in his Harriers jersey, and, fuck, there was a picture of us together as well, with the Stanley Cup between us, and I was grinning like an idiot, back when everything felt simpler and when I was a captain who could actually lead a team.

My heart pounded. Was this a Harriers fan spot? If there were Harriers fans inside, they’d recognize me for sure. Panic clawed at me. They’d ask me questions and judge me with a familiar mix of pity and curiosity. But as I stood frozen on the sidewalk, I saw Lucas inside. He watched me, staring as if he half-expected me to turn tail and run.

The thought crossed my mind. It would’ve been easy to keep walking. But something—maybe pride, maybe sheer stupidity—made me summon whatever courage I had left. Before I could talk myself out of it, I headed in, my feet carrying me straight to his table. I slumped into the seat opposite him, feeling like I’d run a marathon.

The entire diner was decked out in Harriers blue, with the team’s golden bird logo plastered everywhere on the walls, the menu boards, and the damn napkin holders. It was like walking into a shrine to the Harriers, to everything I was trying to forget. Focus on that , I told myself. Focus on things I could see and hear. The scent of baking—something sweet, like cinnamon rolls—filled the air. The chatter of people all around hummed like background noise, and surprisingly, no one had stopped talking to stare at me.

I pressed my fingertips against the rough wood of the table, grounding myself. The texture was solid, real, something to anchor me. I started counting down from ten, anything to calm the nerves buzzing in my chest. I fussed with my jacket to hide the counting, steadying myself before I could think about talking to Lucas.

I was instantly lost in his eyes. They were so blue, darker up close, with familiar flecks of navy. His lashes were long, almost unfairly so, framing those eyes in a way that made them more intense. And his lips—plump, kissable, even in the tight line they were forming now.

And god, the freckles over his nose… I could stare at those for days.

The dark blond stubble on his jaw only added to his ruggedness. His messy and wavy hair was short but soft, curling slightly over his forehead. That disheveled look shouldn’t have worked, but it did—it more than worked. He was beautiful.

But as I stared at him, all I could see was the angles of his face; his narrowed eyes locked on me as though he was worried about every move I made. He was a sharper version of Bailey, all hard lines and no softness, and there was no doubt in my mind he was waiting for me to fuck up again. He probably kept asking me if I was okay so that he could wear me down, and then I’d spit out that I was far from fucking okay.

I cleared my throat to talk, but someone approached our table.

The kid couldn’t have been more than seventeen, his eyes wide as they focused on me. He was wearing a BB’s Diner apron, a bit too big for him, and his mouth fell open as if he couldn’t believe who he was seeing.

His name badge said Connor , and I braced myself. Now that he recognized me, I thought he would say something—maybe some awkward sympathy, perhaps the questions I dreaded about how I’d let the Harriers get so bad—but he just blinked at me as if he was processing it all. Then, without a word about who I was or what I’d become, he offered me coffee.

“Coffee, uh… sir?” His voice cracked, and he was trying to play it cool. I could see the reaction to recognizing me in his posture, but he held it together better than I did.

“Please,” I managed, not trusting my voice to say more.

Lucas shook his head and offered Connor a smile.

The kid nodded and walked off, and I exhaled. I glanced up at Lucas, whose steady gaze was locked on me as though he was trying to figure out what was happening in my head.

I dragged a hand through my hair, leaning back in my seat, and tried to shake off the weight of everything.

“Now what?” he asked.