18. Lucas

Chapter 18

Lucas

“It’s tree time,” I announced.

“Now?” Holly looked surprised and glanced at the long, thin box and the carrier bags. “It’s still a week from Thanksgiving.”

“My family puts up trees before Thanksgiving,” I explained as I pulled out the baubles and tinsel. “We’re always so busy with the parade and the market afterward that we have to start early. What can I say? We’re a family that loves Christmas bling.”

“Okay, well, um…” He seemed uncertain, then appeared to have some internal debate. “Let’s do this.”

Together, we sat cross-legged on the floor, matching the letters on each metal branch to the corresponding holes on the skinny central pole.

“‘A’ goes here,” I murmured, sliding one branch into place, the sharp snap of metal against metal was oddly satisfying. “And ‘B’’s next.”

“Like an alphabet puzzle,” Holly said, his fingers brushing mine as he passed me another branch. The touch was brief, but it sent a little spark through me, and I glanced up to find him smiling, the quiet, unguarded kind of smile that still felt rare.

“Except this puzzle doesn’t come with a picture on the box,” I teased, holding the tree steady as Holly fit another branch into place. “You think we’ll get all these in the right order?”

“I’m a trained hockey player, Lucas, not a professional fake tree-maker,” he said with mock seriousness. “But I think we’ve got this.”

Working alongside him like this was easy. There were incidental touches—hands bumping as we adjusted branches, shoulders brushing when we leaned in to examine the structure—and more than a few shared smiles. By the time we had the tree standing, its branches fluffed out as much as they could be, the little metal and plastic contraption had potential.

Almost as if it belonged here.

We moved on to the decorations, rummaging through the pile of bargain baubles and strands of tinsel I’d grabbed from the store. Holly held up a chipped ornament, turning it over in his hands. “Poor little thing.”

“I know. Bailey would be appalled if he saw we were trying to sell this in our store.” I took it from him, turned it so the crack wasn’t visible and then placed it, so it looked perfect. “Even cracked ornaments get the job done.”

He stared at me, and I stared at him, and he was the first to snort a laugh. “Were you dispensing life advice there?”

I buffed my nails. “Psychology 101.”

We worked a little longer, and Holly didn’t even mind that I hummed Mariah Carey.

On repeat.

“Speaking of Bailey’s stuff,” Holly said, his tone softer now, “I’ve got loads of his crystal creations in storage back in Albany. You know, for when I finally figure out where I want to live.”

“You do?” I asked, glancing over at him.

“Yeah.” He nodded, his fingers trailing over the edge of the bauble. “I sold pretty much everything else when I sold the house—paintings, clothes, you name it—but the ornaments, the crystals… Those went in the pile of things too special to part with. They remind me of your family, I guess.”

“That’s… really nice,” I said quietly, letting the thought linger as we hung a string of tinsel around the tree.

By the time we finished, the little tree glimmered with mismatched baubles and shimmering tinsel, looking far more festive than it had any right to. I wrapped a spare strand of tinsel around my neck like a scarf, striking my best runway pose.

“What do you think?” I asked, strutting across the tiny space. “High fashion?”

Holly laughed, leaning back against the arm of the couch. “Definitely something. But I think the stairs could use some of that bling instead of you.”

“Fine,” I said, pretending to be offended as I pulled the tinsel from my neck and wrapped it around one banister. “But for the record, this tinsel loved me.”

“Sure, it did,” Holly snorted.

The cabin felt brighter now, cheerier, and Holly noticed too, his gaze lingering on the tree.

Something about the little tree, the glow of the lights, and our easy laughter made the cabin feel a little more like home.

“Five out of five, would recommend,” I summarized.

“Six out of five, actually,” Holly added.

We played some games in the afternoon. I stole a kiss in the kitchen when we cleared up after dinner, but it stayed chaste, perfect. Holly didn’t last long after dinner, dozing on the sofa, and I encouraged him to bed with a goodnight kiss, only he didn’t climb the steps to his bed. Instead, he stopped, his hand pressed to his chest like he was fighting to breathe. Was that panic? Did he need his meds? I swallowed, my throat dry. He was waiting, and the air between us felt thick, charged with something I’d never experienced before.

“We could share the bed,” he said.

“I’m okay down here.”

“It’s a big bed.”

“I know.”

“We could build a line of pillows down the middle if you think we should. Or we could cuddle for warmth.”

“Cuddle.”

“Like this.” He stepped into my space, slipping his hands around my waist, lacing them behind me, and staring up at me. This close, I could stare into his brown eyes, which were wide in the darkened room. I thought I saw promises in them. He rested his cheek against mine, and I felt his heart beating. I was getting hard, and I wanted him so bad.

“It’s not safe.”

“Huh? You think we’ll break the bed or something? I mean, it’s sturdy and?—”

“I’d want to do more than cuddle,” I blurted, surprising myself.

“Well, that would be fine,” he choked. “I mean, more than fine. I mean, I haven’t had sex in over a year—shit, maybe more. It’s just been me and my right hand. And the meds make me?—”

“Just because I don’t date, it doesn’t mean I haven’t had sex,” I interrupted. “I just don’t crave it; I don’t need it on a first date, but then there’s you, and suddenly…”

He released his hold on me, then reached for my hand and dragged me toward the stairs.

“Let’s start with cuddling,” he murmured, and all too soon, we were in his room, and now, I wanted to kiss Holly again. I wanted to taste him, to feel his warmth against me. My chest tightened with the thought, and I moved before I could overthink it. Slowly, awkwardly, we undressed and crawled into bed, my heart hammering as I leaned over him. I reached out, cradling Holly’s face in my hands, my fingers trembling slightly.

I kissed him.

It was clumsy, sideways, and I felt Holly smile faintly against my lips. But I didn’t pull away. Instead, I kissed him again, slower this time, trying to focus on how his lips felt against mine—soft, warm, welcoming.

Holly fell back on the pillows with a sigh, tugging me with him. His arms wrapped around me as he wriggled beneath me, shifting until I was lying between his legs. I could feel his body pressing up against mine, and my mind raced, my pulse deafening in my ears. He pulled the blankets over the two of us, so we were cozy in a cocoon and smiled at me.

“There, that’s better.”

Then he cradled my face, thumbing my cheekbones, his touch gentle but firm, and I felt myself sinking into him, into the moment. It was overwhelming, this rush of feelings I’d never fully understood, yet I didn’t want to stop. I wanted more. His lips moved with mine, slow and sure, and for the first time in my life, I wasn’t just going through the motions.

I wanted this .