24. Lucas
Chapter 24
Lucas
Now that I knew the road might get cleared later today or, at worst, early tomorrow, my brain started to focus on the meeting I’d called about the parade. The meeting that never happened, thanks to this snowstorm. It floated to the front of my mind—as front and center as possible while I gazed down at Holly, sprawled across the bed, snoring softly. He clutched my pillow like he didn’t want to let go, as if maybe… he tried to hold onto me when I woke up feeling unsettled and slipped out from his arms.
Being here with Holly meant the pieces had fallen into place. It wasn’t only about wanting to kiss him, touch him, or be close. It was about more than that. It was about feeling like I wanted to be with him, waking up next to him, having breakfast, and holding his hand. I wanted to know what he was thinking, what he dreamed about. I wanted to be the one who made him feel safe, the one he leaned on.
I never expected falling in love to feel like this—so slow, deep, and all-encompassing. I didn’t even realize I could feel this way about anyone. But, with Holly, everything was different. And that scared me. It terrified me. Because if that was what attraction was, then it wasn’t something I was used to handling. It was messy, and I didn’t know how to navigate it.
But at the same time, I couldn’t help but want more. I wanted everything with him.
It was waking up together, hugging all day, staying close, and sharing silences that didn’t need to be filled. It wasn’t just desire—it was something bigger, something more permanent, that scared the hell out of me.
Was this what love felt like? Or was this some temporary obsession that would fade once the snow melted and the roads opened? I didn’t know. All I knew was that the thought of leaving this, leaving him , terrified me.
“You’re staring,” Holly mumbled, his voice rough with sleep.
“Thinking,” I replied, my eyes still on him.
“About what?” He stretched, propping himself up on his elbows, mussed and adorably confused.
I panicked, plucking the first thing that wasn’t falling completely in love with Holly out of thin air. “Health and safety,” I said.
He blinked, his eyebrows knitting together in confusion. “Huh?”
I sat up, rubbing the back of my neck, trying to make my rambling sound halfway coherent. “The Christmas parade. It’s dark, you know? The lighting outside the school—it’s a problem. We need more floodlights or something. The last thing we want is someone tripping in the dark and hurting themselves, and then the whole town is going to be on me about it. We could string some extra lights along the trees, but then there’s the issue of how we power them. There are safety concerns, and it’s on me as chief marshal to ensure everything’s up to code.”
I kept rambling about the parade, the lighting, and safety precautions, filling the space with words because the truth—that I was falling for him—was too much to admit.
Holly blinked at me, waking up more, and then gave me a sleepy, soft, sweet smile. “You’re kind of a dork,” he teased, his voice still groggy.
I chuckled, feeling the tension in my chest ease. “Yeah, maybe. But someone’s gotta think about these things.”
He smiled wider, and I couldn’t help but feel the tug of something deep inside me—something terrifying but also… right.
“Can you come here for a moment?” Holly’s tone was all seriousness, and he patted the bed beside him.
I hesitated, unsure of his thinking, but then I did as he asked. I sat next to him, and he hugged me before I could say anything. His body was warm and solid, and I couldn’t help but melt into it for a moment.
But then, without any warning, he shifted, tumbling me onto the bed and rolling on top of me in one smooth motion. Surprised, I blinked up at him, but the playful glint in his eyes made me laugh.
“You talking health and safety has made me hot,” he teased, leaning down to kiss me.
I laughed against his mouth, but then, for some reason, my brain decided to keep going with the joke. “You mean the importance of proper lighting for night parades? And ensuring all electrical cords are properly covered to avoid tripping hazards?”
Holly groaned, pressing his forehead against mine, and murmured, “So hot,” between kisses.
I chuckled, kissing him back, unable to stop myself. It was a fun, playful, easy connection that made everything feel lighter. Whenever I said something ridiculous about health and safety—“Gotta make sure the fire exits are marked”—Holly would groan, roll his eyes, but still laugh, kissing me even deeper.
It was fun and sweet, the kind of lighthearted teasing we’d fallen into so easily. But then something shifted. The kisses became slower, and I felt Holly’s weight pressing down on me, his body fitting against mine. His touch roamed over my sides, sending sparks of heat through me, and all the jokes and teasing disappeared from my mind.
I couldn’t think about anything but him—his lips, hands, and how he tasted. The way his skin felt against mine. My heart was pounding, my body responding to every touch, and I was too turned on to focus on anything else. Holly was everywhere, and all I wanted was more of him.
I let out a shaky breath, my hands sliding up his back, pulling him closer. “Forget health and safety,” I muttered, my voice rough with need.
Holly smiled against my lips, and at that moment, nothing else mattered but him.
The plow reached us later in the afternoon, its loud engine breaking the peaceful bubble we’d lived in for the past few days.
“So, we’re not trapped anymore?” Holly asked, resting his forehead against the window. He watched as the plow pushed through the snowbank, its massive blade piling more snow on top of what was already blocking us. The noise and clutter jarred as the world began to intrude again.
“Still trapped for a bit,” I murmured. “The first stage is to clear enough for emergency vehicles to use it, and it’s too late today for them to allow anyone up here tonight.”
“And you won’t drive down?”
“Now?” I huffed a laugh. “If I want to get my car out, we’d have to dig the rest of it ourselves,” I said. “I’ll head outside in a bit, though, see what signal I can get, and tell the family to come get us tomorrow or when they open the road.”
“You,” he corrected. “To get you.” The stubborn tilt to his chin gave me a warning, and I hesitated.
“You’re not coming down with me?”
“I’m not ready.”
Okay, lighten this now. “I did mention my two-man shower, right?”
“Yeah, you did, and no, I’m staying here for a while.”
I rolled with it, teasing him, not thinking he was being entirely serious. “Okay. Well, I’ll have to come back and pick my truck up, and I’d have an excuse to come and visit you.”
I was teasing, hoping for him to say something sweet about how he wanted me to stay or how he wanted to come with me down into Wishing Tree. Instead, he was quiet and nodded, his arms crossed over his chest. Disappointment gripped me. I wasn’t sure how to handle his silence, and my heart hurt. Is this what falling for someone was like? The constant need for reassurance?
I laced my fingers with his. “If you change your mind, I’d love to show you my home, and we could shower together, and make love in my extra-large supersized queen bed.” If he wasn’t going to say anything about carrying this on—whatever this was—it was up to me. Right?
“Hmmm,” he said, but he didn’t let go of my hand.
The sound of the plow faded as it moved farther up the mountain, leaving us with this half-cleared road and the weight of the silence settling in.
“Luckily, we weren’t too far up the mountain,” I tried to keep it casual and matter-of-fact. “Could’ve been a lot worse, but no walking down that road again. Yeah?”
He shuddered. “Absolutely not.”
The longer we stood there, watching the snow, the more the quiet peace and affection between us drifted away, replaced by a distance I didn’t understand. It was as though the plow had broken something, reminding us that real life was waiting just outside, that this little bubble we’d been living in couldn’t last forever.
“So… what now?” I asked. What about us? What comes next?
“I don’t know,” he whispered, his voice soft but tinged with something I couldn’t quite place. Worry? Uncertainty?
I shrugged, trying to keep things light without a frame of reference for what to say or do. I didn’t want to come over as needy or pathetic.
“At least we’re not trapped anymore.”
He nodded, but the way his lips pressed into a thin line told me he wasn’t thrilled about the idea. Did he not want me to go?
Please let it be that.
My heart sank. My obsession with touching him and being with him was overwhelming.
“I have room at my house, even a spare room if you want it.”
“I’m okay here,” he said, rubbing his chest, his eyes bright. Shit, the last thing I needed was to push my agenda on him and make him do something he didn’t want to, so a subject change was called for. “I need to connect with my therapist and work through some…”
He shrugged and didn’t finish, and I changed the subject.
“What’s your plan for the car?”
Holly sighed, leaning against the window frame. “Figure out the insurance, sell it for scrap, I don’t care about the fucking thing.”
Ouch. Okay then. “I know Greg at the garage.”
“Sure, then I’ll call that garage and get it towed; I can talk to my insurance company. This Greg guy can fix and sell it. Can you give the proceeds to charity or something?”
Was he asking me a question there? Was he asking me what I would do with the car? Or was he asking me to support him as someone he liked and might want advice from? Was it my place to make a suggestion? Frustration at what he might be looking for from me crippled my ability to make words. The matter-of-fact tone of his voice was doing nothing to bridge the gap between us, and I hated it.
“Okay,” I offered, and he glanced at me.
The snow fell lightly outside, and the longer we watched, the more that peace we’d shared started to fade. The world was creeping back in, and neither of us seemed ready for it as we sat back on the sofa.
Holly sat on the edge; his hands clasped loosely in his lap. He stared at the floor as if it held the answers to questions he had yet to figure out how to ask. He let out a slow breath, then glanced up at me, his dark eyes shadowed but determined.
“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice soft. “For wanting to stay here a bit longer. For… needing space. I’ll come back to town. I’ll visit. I promise I’m not dismissing what happened here.”
I crossed my arms, leaning against the table, and held his gaze. “Okay, then let me get to the point—you see us longer-term?”
Holly’s lips twitched into a faint smile, and he shook his head lightly as though I was missing the obvious. “Us is a thing, Lucas. An important thing.”
“And you know you’re my person now and stuck with me.”
“I wouldn’t want it any other way.” He paused, then peered up through his lashes. “I’m falling for you too. I want more.”
The words warmed something deep inside me, but the weight of worry still pressed on my chest. “I just… I worry about you being alone up here. With everything you’ve been dealing with?—”
He cut me off with a small gesture, lifting his hand to point toward the window. Following his gaze, I saw the tiny chickadee perched on the bare branch of a nearby tree; its feathers puffed up against the cold.
“I’m not alone,” he said, his tone lighter, almost teasing.
I frowned. “Holly. Take me seriously.”
He turned back to me, the faint humor in his eyes softening into something more earnest. “Just give me a couple of days, Lucas. To get my head straight. See Kai and Bailey when they’re better to make sense of all this. Yeah?”
What if he changes his mind about me once I’m gone? What if this was nothing but a way to fill the time? I studied him for a long moment, searching for something in his expression that would tell me he wasn’t just brushing me off. But all I saw was sincerity mixed with exhaustion. I nodded slowly. “Yeah. A couple of days.”
His shoulders eased, and he gave me a small, grateful smile. It didn’t wholly chase away the knot in my stomach, but for now, it was enough.
“What happens in the cabin stays in the cabin, yeah?” Holly said with a laugh, but it didn’t reach his eyes. He tried to make it sound like a joke, like what we had here wasn’t anything serious.
“Is that what you want?” I asked, crossing my arms over my chest, feeling my heartbeat quicken with nerves.
His half-smile faltered, dropping as his gaze shifted. “What do you want?” he countered, his voice quieter now, almost unsure.
“I asked first,” I shot back, trying to keep it light, but my voice had an edge. What am I? Six?
He blinked, looking at me as if trying to figure out what to say. “I’m in Wishing Tree for a reason. To see Kai and Bailey and apologize for being an ass at their wedding, thank them for never giving up on me. Then see you to apologize and hope you forgive me.”
“There’s nothing to forgive,” I defended, then rolled my eyes when he frowned. “Of course, I forgive you.”
He closed his eyes for a moment, letting out a breath, and when he opened them, they were bright with something—emotion, regret, I didn’t know. “I loved being trapped here with you,” he admitted.
My chest tightened at the vulnerability in his voice. “But?” I prompted, knowing there was more.
“But nothing.” He shook his head, tapping his temple. “I need to settle what’s up here before I can think about us.”
This wasn’t something I would even begin to argue about—his mental health was far too important to me—but it didn’t stop the ache that came with it. I wanted to tell him he didn’t have to be perfect, that I wasn’t expecting some grand resolution to whatever he thought he needed to fix. But I couldn’t force him to leave, not when he still had so much he needed to figure out.
Duncan drew the short straw to come to rescue me. Holly and I finished the last bit of shoveling, connecting the path to the road, but there was no repeat of the snowball fight, and I recalled we never did make snowmen. My back was aching, but I barely noticed. All I could think about was leaving Holly up here. It felt wrong.
When Duncan hugged me, I could feel the weight of his concern before he spoke.
“Hey, little brother,” he said, stepping back to look me over. “You okay?”
“Yeah, I’m good,” I lied, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach my eyes. Holly wasn’t coming with me, and it gnawed at me, although I understood.
Duncan glanced behind me, where Holly stood near the cabin door. “Is he okay?”
“Holly? Yeah, he’s good.” I tried to sound convincing, but I knew Duncan could read me like a book. I shifted uncomfortably, trying to steer the conversation away from Holly. “How’s Bailey doing, anyway? And Kai?”
Duncan took the bait and shrugged. “They’re getting better. Bailey’s still got that cough, but they’re on the mend.”
I nodded, but my mind was elsewhere. Over Duncan’s shoulder, I saw Holly step out of the front door, leaning against the frame. He waved at Duncan, and my heart clenched. Should we really be leaving him here?
No! My mind screamed, but then I remembered the panic attacks, the way he’d talked about needing to work through what was in his head. It would be wrong to force him down into town, to pressure him before he was ready.
Waiting a few days was a small price for the chance of forever.
“Hang on.” Before Duncan could ask why, I hurried back to Holly.
Without thinking, I grabbed him by the jacket, pulled him close, and kissed him hard. It wasn’t planned, but I couldn’t stop myself. “Come down into town with me,” I pleaded, resting my forehead against his. “I don’t want to leave you, not with all these feelings inside that I can’t?—”
“Stop,” Holly cut me off, his hands framing my face. His eyes were steady, filled with determination that felt unshakable. “Give me just a few more days to work through all of this,” he asked, his voice softening, but the resolve was still evident.
We kissed again, slower this time, as though we were trying to hold onto something fragile, something we both knew could break if we weren’t careful. I wanted to tell him I’d wait as long as it took, but deep down, I selfishly wanted to give him forty-eight hours before I dragged him out.
“Thanksgiving,” I exclaimed, desperate to hold onto something, some future together.
He stiffened. “No.”
“You don’t even know what I was going to say.”
“I’m not ready for a big Haynes family event,” he said, shaking his head.
“I wasn’t going to suggest that,” I defended, rubbing his arms gently. “I was going to say I’ll come up here—with food, games, and we can...”
“What?” His eyebrow arched.
“Sit, talk, kiss,” I said, my voice softer.
He tilted his chin, a smile pulling at his lips. “I’ll be okay alone, and your family will miss you being there.”
“I’d be alone,” I murmured. “Hell, I don’t want either of us to be alone,” I said, my voice breaking. “And if you can’t be there with me and my family, I’ll be the loneliest person at that table.”
He frowned as if he couldn’t quite believe what I was saying, or maybe because I was pushing him too hard. But I meant every word. Somehow, in our short time together, Holly had become my everything. And without him, the thought of being surrounded by my family felt hollow. I was probably smothering him, pushing too hard, but the fear of losing him, even if I didn’t fully have him yet, gnawed at me.
“Can I…” Visit. Kiss you. Need you?
He pressed his forehead to mine. “Yeah,” was all he said. “But you need to go now.”
“Will you be okay?”
“I will.”
I wasn’t convinced, but I forced myself to pull back, turning away reluctantly and walking to where Duncan waited by the car. Twice, I turned, checking on Holly, and each time, he smiled, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. The crisp morning air bit at any small amount of exposed skin, and the sky was a clear, piercing blue—the kind that shows up and makes snow glitter under a winter sun. Everything felt too perfect, too quiet for the storm of emotions churning inside me.
Duncan stood there, silent as I approached, his expression full of unspoken questions. I could feel them hanging in the air between us, but I wasn’t ready to answer any of them.
He opened his mouth, likely to ask what the hell had just happened, but I cut him off before he could say a word. “Not a word,” I warned, sliding into the passenger seat.
“But—”
“To anyone.” My tone left no room for argument.
He closed his mouth and nodded, respecting the boundary. He might have been my older brother, but he knew better than to push when I was like this.
The drive back to town was quiet. Banks of snow piled up on either side of the road, reflecting the sunlight in harsh, blinding patches. The landscape looked pristine and untouched, yet my thoughts were anything but. My mind was confused and longing, all tangled up in Holly.
When Duncan finally dropped me off at my place, a small two-bed at the foot of the mountain a little before the main road into town began, he stopped me with a hand on my arm. “I won’t say anything, but are you okay? I’ve never seen you date… I’ve never seen you with anyone before… and Paul is?—”
“I’m demisexual,” I explained to Duncan, keeping it simple. “It means I don’t feel attraction to someone unless I’ve built an emotional connection first?—”
“I know what it means. Bailey explained.”
I held up a hand. “I know you’re not—it’s something I’ve only learned about myself in the last few years.” Then it hit me what he said. “Wait, why have you been talking to Bailey about me?”
He dipped his gaze and shrugged. “We’ve all seen how you look at Holly, and we want to be able to support you if you need us. Bailey suggested demi, so Callum and I did some research.”
I loved all three of my brothers, and though we’d had our ups and downs, that moment was one of the best displays of brotherly love I’d ever experienced.
“Wow,” was all I could say, and he shrugged again. “I love you too.”
“Whatever, dude,” he murmured, suddenly shy.
I felt I owed him more, or maybe I wanted to tell him more because I had to tell someone before I burst. “It’s only been a few days, but…” I scrubbed my eyes. “Holly’s the only one I’ve ever wanted for real.”
Duncan looked at me, understanding dawning in his eyes, but he didn’t push. “Okay,” he said, finally letting me go.
Inside my house, the heating had been left on low, thanks to someone in the family, and I turned it up, the warmth seeping into the space. But as the room warmed, I didn’t know what to do next.
Maybe sit on my sofa and cry. Or drown my confusion in alcohol.
Did being attracted to someone as deeply as I was to Holly mean I was in love? Was this what people meant by fated ? If I was only ever meant to feel this kind of attraction for one person, didn’t that mean it had to be love? Or was it something else entirely? The confusion wrapped around me, tight and suffocating. I’d never felt anything like this before. Attraction, need—these were new, overwhelming sensations, and it had always been Holly.
I didn’t know how to make sense of it. My emotions toward him were too strong, fast, and terrifying. I’d spent my entire life not wanting this, not feeling this for anyone, and now, here he was, crashing through every wall I’d built. It was more than attraction. I wanted him. I wanted to wake up next to him, feel his warmth, hear his laugh. Was that love? Or was it just the happiness of feeling something for someone like Holly? Was it because the sex was off the charts? Or was I eager to care for him on his darker days?
I couldn’t tell what I was feeling, and that scared the hell out of me. Uncertainty gnawed at me, and I was questioning everything I thought I knew about myself.
I was confused, conflicted, and desperate to go back up the mountain. But it had started snowing again—not enough to stop me, but enough that I’d need someone to drive me up there. That would mean calling on family, and the last thing I wanted was to involve Duncan any more than I already had. I shouldn’t have kissed Holly in front of him. I should’ve been more careful.
But how could I be careful when all I could think about was Holly?
I slumped onto the sofa, head in my hands, wondering if this gnawing ache in my chest would ever ease.
If it was more than just attraction.
If it was real love.