2. Paul ‘Holly’ Hollister

Chapter 2

Paul ‘Holly’ Hollister

I’d been halfway to losing my shit even before Bailey and Kai started their vows, the words spilling from Bailey’s mouth as if he’d waited his whole life to say them. I couldn’t focus, needed to get to the drinking, needed to get out of here, but I’d been trapped as a co-best man right in front of Kai and Bailey, so close I could see the sheen of tears in Kai’s eyes.

The short ceremony had been honest and raw, and Kai looked at Bailey as if he were the only person on earth. Then it was Kai’s turn, and he slipped the ring onto Bailey’s finger, holding his gaze with so much intensity it was as though he’d carved out a private space for them, right there in the falling snow.

“I promise you, Bailey, that I will be there for you every single day, in the heat of the summer and the icy cold of the winter, and I will hold your hand for as long as I can. I promise you children and family, cozy moments in front of the fire and whirling you around on the ice until you’re dizzy. I love you, my angel. Always.”

They kissed, they loved, they smiled, and everyone clapped—even me. But then my monster was there to fight, and I headed straight to the small heated pavilion with the open bar I’d paid for. Whiskey one, a double, was a hello to my pain. Two and three finally made my monster listen, and now I was on four, and I took another sip, letting the burn drown out the ache. Because, damn it, what Kai had with his Bailey was beautiful, and they deserved it. They’d looked at each other with a certainty I’d never felt in my life, like there was no doubt or fear. Just two people who knew they’d always be enough for each other.

I’d never have that. I’d never be good enough. The beast that climbed into my brain and stayed told me that no matter how many times I put on a brave face, danced, joked, and charmed my way through the night, I’d always end up exactly where I started—alone.

When the reception was in full swing, I had control of my monster, and no one could tell anything was wrong. To everyone else, I was the life and soul of the party, tossing back drinks, cracking jokes, spinning anyone willing onto the dance floor. I was the Holly they knew, the good-time guy who made everything seem fun, light, and easy. I was everything Kai needed me to be. His best friend, his co-best man, his loyal wingman who would make damn sure his wedding was the stuff of fairy tales.

I was the best friend who showed up, brought laughter and distraction, bailed on the bachelor party plans, but was there when it mattered. I called that a win. I threw back the remainder of the drink, letting the burn numb me, wishing I could stop seeing Kai’s face in my mind, how he’d stared at Bailey, so utterly in love. The monster inside me, the one I’d spent years trying to shove down, roared, and I could feel it in my chest, a clawing ache telling me I didn’t deserve anything close to what they had. That I’d never be worthy of it.

And Lucas hovered, sexy, alluring, making me want things I couldn’t have, and the monster was ice-cold in my heart.

“Your funeral, buddy.” I smirked, waiting for him to leave.

Only he didn’t.

He was like white on rice: He stuck to me, was judgmental, exasperated, and played with my head.

We waved Bailey and Kai away. They had a hotel room in the ski lodge at the top of High Peak Mountain, which I’d organized with Lucas or paid for. At least I know I’d said yes to an email at some point and handed over my credit card details. Kai hugged me goodbye, held me tight, and told me to take care of myself.

Everything was a blur, but at least my monster was dozing under the weight of the alcohol.

I need more of it.

“You need to stop,” the angel on my shoulder admonished.

I glanced behind me; Lucas hovered right there with a grimace. Or was that a look of understanding? I couldn’t tell anymore. He hadn’t danced with me; he’d just stared and judged, and I didn’t like that one bit, because no one got to judge me but myself.

“It’s a party,” I reminded him, and he squinted at me as if he couldn’t hear me. “It’s. A. Party,” I repeated, because my voice sounded weird as I ordered another drink with a casual wave.

“Water is fine,” Lucas murmured.

I watched as the barman nodded and switched his attention from me to Lucas.

“Whish-key.”

“Water,” Lucas nodded to the barman.

“Let’s comp—sh—compush… comp’mise: ice in my whiskey,” I suggested.

I needed that damn alcohol, hoping it’d be enough to silence the voice that wouldn’t stop reminding me how far from normal I was, how I was failing—at the game, at leading, at being anything other than a hollow shell in a nice suit, good for a laugh and a dance but not much more. A captain who couldn’t keep his team from falling apart, a man who couldn’t get close enough to anyone to let them see the truth.

Lucas pulled me from the reception, or at least I think he did, but everything was blurry and numb. By then, the music was fading, people were drifting away, and it was quieter. I didn’t remember slipping back into my coat, either, but the bite of snow hitting my bare hands made me aware of how stupid I’d been not to bring gloves.

My head spun, and then I felt a slap of icy air, and I was walking, or dancing, close to throwing up.

A door opened and closed, and a flood of warm, spiced air hit me, filling my nose with the scent of Christmas—pine, cinnamon and the earthy smell of wood shavings and candles. The light in this room was soft and golden, and as I spun in an uncoordinated circle, I recognized where I was.

The Wishing Tree Gift Emporium—owned by the Haynes family and run by Callum and Lucas. Local crafts lined the shelves: art from nearby artists, candles, soaps, and small sculptures. Hanging crystals spun in the window, catching the streetlight and sending rainbows across the walls. It was the kind of place that felt as though Christmas had taken root and bloomed year-round, its heat and magic wrapping around me the moment I stepped inside, and I was determined not to throw up in there.

“Magic can kill monsters,” I managed.

“What?” Lucas’s hand was on my back, steadying me, guiding me to a high stool by the counter.

“Magic and monsters,” I repeated. At least, I thought I did.

He said something about it being quiet here, and how I needed to sober the fuck up. Before I knew it, he’d handed me a water bottle and stood there, watching as I drank it straight down like it was one of those energy drinks I used to chug after grueling practices. The second bottle was halfway gone before the haze in my head settled, and I found myself in that soft, safe space where the monster in my chest was silent, lulled to sleep.

Yep, the magic had worked.

I blinked at Lucas, his face somehow clearer than everything else around me. The twinkling of fairy lights around the cash desk caught in his blue eyes, and something about the way he looked at me made my chest tighten. I squinted, my mouth working faster than my brain. “You’re so damn pretty.”

Lucas’s brows arched, his lips twitching in what I assumed was amusement. “Pretty?” he repeated, as if he couldn’t believe the word had come out of my mouth.

“Not pretty,” I corrected, shaking my head as if that helped clarify things. “Sexy. Yeah, that’s better. You’re sexy. But also kinda cute? Like, your nose. And those freckles. But mostly sexy.”

“Holly,” he warned, though there wasn’t much bite in his tone.

“No, no, hear me out.” I waved my hand vaguely in the air, almost dropping the empty water bottle in the process. “Your eyes. They’re like… rainbows. But not full rainbows. Just the part where they sparkle and make everything better. How do you even get eyes like that? They’re so—so unfairly blue.”

Lucas sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “You’re drunk.”

“Not drunk,” I argued, pointing at him with all the conviction of a man who had just chugged two bottles of water. “Sober. Sobering. And I still think you’re too damn good-looking. I don’t even deserve to sit here with you, let alone—” I stopped myself, the rest of the sentence tangling in my throat.

I want to kiss him. I want him.

My brain, fuzzy and half-full of regrets, decided it was a great time to dig up memories I’d buried long ago. “You know,” I said, my voice soft, almost wistful, “I remember when I first met you. We were what—eighteen? God, you were so pretty back then too. I wanted to talk to you, but I was so shy. Can you believe that? Me. Shy.”

Lucas didn’t say anything, only watched me, his blue gaze steady, as if he were trying to figure out what direction I was heading in.

“Then hockey happened,” I continued, my words spilling out, slurred but honest. “Kai became my best friend. And you—well, you’re his best friend. And that made everything… complicated. I don’t know. I’m confused with everything right now.”

“Holly—”

“I want to kiss you,” I blurted before he could stop me.

The admission hung in the air between us, raw and naked and absolutely terrifying.

Lucas sighed, holding up a hand like a referee calling time-out. “You’re drunk, Holly.”

“So?” I challenged, leaning forward. “Do you want to kiss me?”

He hesitated long enough for my heart to sink, then shook his head, his voice firm but gentle. “Not when you’re drunk.”

That stung more than I wanted to admit, but I nodded, trying to hold on to my last shreds of dignity.

“Can I get a hug, then?” My voice cracked, and I hated how small I sounded.

Lucas tilted his head, studying me. “Are you going to throw up?”

“No,” I said quickly, shaking my head as if that alone would make it true. “Promise.”

“Okay then,” he said, opening his arms after a moment. “One hug. Then you need to get back to your hotel.”

I didn’t hesitate, wrapping my arms around him as if he were the only solid thing in a world that wouldn’t stop spinning. His embrace was warm and steady, his hand resting on my back. For a moment, I let myself believe everything might be okay, just for a moment. Then he pulled back, his hands steadying me as he met my eyes.

“Time to go, Holly,” he murmured.

I didn’t know what possessed me to look at him then. But he was there, close, his gaze fixed on me with an intensity that was part concern, part… something else I couldn’t read. He was exhausted but happy. His blond hair had come loose from whatever he’d tied it back with, falling around his face in a messy, careless way that softened his expression. Beautiful. And those eyes… There was a dusting of freckles across his nose, light but there if you looked close. And his lips…

I blinked, realizing I was staring. But I couldn’t seem to stop.

Why was I staring at his lips? Why did he have to be so close, so damn kissable? That word alone startled me, sending a thrill through my body that I couldn’t ignore. And before I knew it, we were kissing.

It was fierce, almost desperate, and my hands were on his face, cradling him, anchoring myself to him. And for a second—a heartbeat—he didn’t pull back, and I almost fooled myself that he’d initiated the kiss. His lips were warm, softer than I’d imagined, and the world went still, leaving only the feeling of me pressing him against the counter and him…

…pushing me away.

He struggled from under me, stunned, his eyes wide as he stared at me in horror.

“What the fuck, Paul?” he asked, using my real name as if this were serious.

“I didn’t mean to?” I lied.

He shoved me a little. “You kissed me.”

My heart pounded, and reality hit like a punch to the gut. What had I done?

I stumbled. The warmth of the shop was suffocating, and the quiet became too loud.

“I’m not… I wouldn’t force you…” I accused.

His eyes widened. “What?”

I sobered up so fast that my monster roared in pain. “If you tell anyone I forced you, I’ll ruin you!” I snarled, hurting and hateful.

Even as the words left my lips, regret burned into my gut, making me sick. I was talking nonsense, but the words were out of my mouth before I knew what I was saying. I was a mess of frustration and anger, and something darker and uglier was twisting inside me.

Lucas’s expression underwent a rapid, painful shift. The confusion in his eyes drained away, replaced first with shock and then with something sharper as all the compassion and understanding vanished. In that second, I felt colder than I had in months, as if someone had thrown me into an icy river, leaving me breathless and panicked.

Any apology was caught in my throat, trapped beneath my stupidity. I wanted to reach out, to take back every hurtful thing I’d said, but my hands stayed still, useless at my sides.

Lucas’s jaw clenched, and he shook his head, not in anger but in something more painful, like disappointment. He looked at me one last time, his blue eyes hard.

“Fuck you,” he snapped, then turned his back on me, leaving me drowning in the silence.

I fumbled for the door, wrenching it open and stumbling into the cold night. The snow bit at my skin, and my hands shook.

I think I heard him calling me back, but there was a bright pink car under a taxi sign, and the driver took me back to the hotel I’d booked for the team several towns over.

The monster hadn’t taken long to get hold of me again.

Only this time, it carried an added weight of shame and regret I could never hope to lose.