15. Holly

Chapter 15

Holly

Lucas was in the cabin.

My cabin.

And he’d brought a tree?

And he’d rescued me from the snow.

And now he was trapped with me until the snow decided to stop. The walls were pressing in on me—either that or I was too big for the space. I discreetly swallowed a pill to stave off the incoming panic attack. I tried to keep my hands busy, anything to focus on except him, and I pulled out some half-baked cookies I’d found earlier in the freezer, hoping they’d be a distraction. The top ones were peanut butter, and the second layer was chocolate and pecan—damn, I hoped he liked nuts as much as I did.

Shit. Don’t go there.

“Do you have any allergies to nuts and things?” I asked, trying to keep my voice casual and steady.

“No,” Lucas replied from the sofa, barely six feet away. His presence filled the room, making it impossible to ignore him, no matter how hard I tried. “You know how to use the coffee machine, right?” Lucas deadpanned.

I bristled, even though he’d been teasing, and it wasn’t meant to be unkind.

I huffed, half-smiling despite the tension. “Mug, water, insert pod, press go.” Not even I could fuck that up.

I read the instructions and arranged a few cookies on a tray, wondering how to measure three inches apart and, in the end, guessing. They called for ten minutes at 350°F. There was no mention of greasing the tray, so I figured I was good. I set the timer and leaned against the counter, my back turned to Lucas, trying to make myself invisible in the tiny kitchen.

The space seemed safer somehow. It was small and basic, with a fridge, a pod coffee machine, and the smell of chocolate filling the air. I stared at the stove, pretending it was the only thing I needed to focus on.

I heard Lucas move behind me. His footsteps were soft but deliberate. He was close—too close.

“Smells nice,” he said, his voice low.

Why was he being so damn nice about things? Lucas could’ve easily thrown in some sarcastic comment, but instead, he’d shown me how to use the stove and complimented the cookies I hadn’t even made. I didn’t get it. It felt… off. I was waiting for calm, patient, and encouraging to turn into angry and accusing. Doc Susan said I catastrophized—that I expected to screw up, but I didn’t trust that the feelings I had weren’t some premonition.

I didn’t trust myself, either.

I didn’t know how to handle kindness right now, particularly from him—Lucas wasn’t supposed to be kind. He was supposed to be the guy who called me out on my bullshit at the wedding, not the one watching quietly while I figured out how to light a fire and smiled with pride as though I’d achieved something monumental.

I didn’t deserve whatever strange sense of ease he was giving off. Maybe he just felt sorry for me. The thought twisted in my gut, but I pushed it down.

“Cookies for a rescue hero,” I deadpanned, trying to make a joke out of it. I kept my focus forward, but I could feel him waiting for me to say or do something.

Eventually, I turned and met his eyes briefly, but I couldn’t hold it. That familiar shame curled inside me, wrapping around my insides and twisting them. I looked away first, my gaze dropping to the counter like it could give me the necessary answers.

We ate the cookies silently; even the coffee didn’t ease our awkwardness. The room felt too quiet, but outside, the wind howled, and the snow battered the windows in relentless waves. I glanced at Lucas and caught him frowning at the snow.

“This isn’t a normal storm, is it?” I asked, unease gnawing at me.

Lucas shook his head. “Nor’easter. We get them every so often, at least the tail end of them here in Vermont. The last big one was back in eighteen. Shut the town down for a week.”

I froze at the thought. “A week?” In here? With you?

He threw me a smile. “It won’t be a week this time,” he reassured me, though his voice had an edge of doubt. “I hope to get to my place later tonight or in the morning.”

Relief washed over me. The idea of being cooped up in this cabin for an hour with Lucas was too much to think about, let alone a week.

Now what? I curled up at the opposite end of the sofa, grabbed one of the books from the pile I’d bought earlier, and flipped it open. I could feel Lucas watching me, his presence filling the small room, making focusing on the words impossible.

I sighed and, without thinking, pointed at the other books. “Do you read? I mean, of course, you read, but maybe you don’t like reading, or maybe you have dyslexia, and that’s cool and... shit.”

“I read,” Lucas looked at the pile before me and raised an eyebrow. “Did you choose all of these?”

He started rifling through them, pulling out the thrillers and action-adventure books I’d picked, before pausing on one with a shirtless dude holding a hockey stick. The cover was ridiculous, with the guy’s abs shining like someone had airbrushed oil over them.

“Not that one,” I muttered, feeling the heat creep into my face. “The owner… um…” I tapped my temple, trying to recall the pirate’s name.

“Wesley,” Lucas interjected.

“Yeah, Wesley. He must have slipped it in.”

“Wesley is all about the love stories,” Lucas said affectionately. Was Wesley more than a friend? Why was I thinking about this? It didn’t matter who Lucas liked.

He flipped the book over, reading the back aloud in his best movie trailer voice. “In a world of high-stakes hockey, she’s off-limits, but that doesn’t stop their undeniable attraction. Will the star forward risk everything for a forbidden love with the coach’s daughter?” He looked up, smirking. “Do you hockey players do that a lot?”

“What?”

“Sleep with the coach’s daughter?”

I shook my head, laughing despite myself. “No.”

Lucas leaned back, still eyeing the book. “Your last girlfriend was a model, right?”

I stiffened, wondering where this conversation was headed. “Yeah.”

“So, you’re what? Bi?”

I shifted uncomfortably, not liking where this was going. “Yeah. I mean, I was never unhappy with my girlfriends, never even looked for a guy, but, y’know…” I shrugged again. Since the wedding when I kissed you, I haven’t stopped thinking about it. I stiffened, the defensiveness rising before I could stop it. “Anyway, what does it matter what I am? I’m single. I don’t play hockey anymore. I can be whoever I want, and I don’t have to label it.”

Lucas raised his hands in a small gesture of surrender. “Absolutely. You don’t have to label anything. But sometimes, when you understand yourself, it makes the world a little easier to navigate.” He paused, glancing down for a second before meeting my eyes again. “I consider myself… well, not attracted to people in general, you know? I don’t crave relationships, and it takes the longest time to fall for someone, and when I do, it seems… yeah… Demisexual isn’t just a label for the world to put on me; it’s an understanding of who I am.”

His words hit me like a punch in the gut. My chest tightened, and I couldn’t stop the devastation that followed, so I dropped the book I hadn’t even been reading. “And I forced myself on you,” I blurted out, my voice shaking. “I’m so sorry. I can't… I can’t say sorry enough.”

The shame flooded back, the memory of that night at the wedding, the shit I’d said about Bailey and Kai, and then the way I’d shoved myself into his space, all of it crashing down on me. I could barely meet his eyes. How the hell could I have been so stupid?

“You didn’t force yourself on me.”

I hadn’t forced myself on him? Jesus, he must have been drinking as well. I’d been clumsy and panicky, and I’d shoved him against the counter and kissed him, and then accused him of… fuck!

The rest was hazy, but I remembered him pushing me away.

I remembered the self-hatred, regret, and overwhelming shame.

“I understand why you hate me,” I began, miserable.

“I don’t hate you.”

“You should.”

“No, I shouldn’t. So, your girlfriend Lizzie something?”

I blinked at the change in subject, expecting to have talked about how much I deserved his ire. “Lizzie Drew.”

“You broke up.”

“We did.” I finished my cookie and then swallowed some coffee, giving myself time to think. I waited for the familiar panic to expand inside me, but for some reason, maybe thanks to the meds, the coffee, the cookie, or even Lucas, I felt momentarily centered. “Hell, she left me, and I don’t blame her.” I swallowed hard, my throat dry. “Why would Lizzie stick around when the media decided I was the next target? No one wants to be vilified in the media for my failure as captain, and then I told her that I’d messed up by kissing you, that you might sell the story, and that I was bisexual and–”

“I wouldn’t tell anyone, you didn’t…” He was lost for words. “Shit, I’m sorry she didn’t stick around.”

“Don’t be, and she didn’t owe me anything.”

“Do you still talk to her?”

“It wasn’t real,” I blurted.

He frowned. “What?”

“Me and Lizzie. It wasn’t real. It was an arrangement for us both, a shield to hide behind so we both looked normal. Like, she wanted to be in the WAGs photos and her social media currency was growing, and she said we looked good together. But I didn’t love her, and she didn’t love me. We didn’t even have much sex.”

God, it had taken weeks of therapy to admit to that, and when Lucas leaned forward, his eyes locked on mine, I nearly scrambled away.

“I’m sorry.”

I froze, my chest tightening as the memories flooded back, all the things I’d done to make sure people respected me, to maintain the image I’d built. I never expected him to have empathy for me. “It’s okay,” I lied, the words slipping out, heavy and raw.

I’d hidden me . All of me . I never wanted anyone to know who I was, not ever. I’d spent years pretending, dodging questions, making sure no one saw the cracks. Yeah, I was bi. But that wasn’t something I’d ever planned on letting out into the world. Not with the team. Not with the media. Not with anyone.

The truth weighed heavy, and for the first time, saying it out loud felt like ripping off a bandage I wasn’t ready for.

Lucas didn’t flinch, but his eyes stayed on me as if trying to read something in my face. He peeled off his thick jumper, revealing a worn long-sleeved Star Wars shirt beneath. It had a goofy pun on it— May the Forks Be with You —with a cartoon fork holding a lightsaber. The shirt was faded, the fabric soft and stretched, and for a second, it made him look less intimidating, more… human. He must have been warm if he was taking off layers. I still felt as if I had ice in my veins.

The tension in the room was thick and suffocating. I couldn’t meet his eyes anymore, so I stared at my book, the words blurring together, my thoughts spiraling.

“I don’t think you meant any of it, not the kiss or the threat afterward,” he whispered. When I met his gaze, there was no lie in his eyes.

I did mean the kiss! I wanted to kiss you!

I couldn’t do this. I couldn’t have all this hope and support thrown at me when I didn’t deserve it. Now, the panic began, and the pain in my chest peaked. I grabbed my book and scrambled for the ladder to the bedroom loft.

“Holly?” he called, but I was mid-meltdown, and up here was the only space where I could breathe for a second, where I didn’t have to face him.

Up here, I could fall apart without having to explain myself. And God, I was close to falling apart.