8. Lucas

Chapter 8

Lucas

It took me a while to calm down after leaving Holly, but the snowy roads demanded my full attention, forcing me to push everything else aside. Still, my mind flickered back to his words and how he stared at me with raw confusion and longing. I’d thought the wedding had been a one-off—a messy, drunken mistake neither of us would ever revisit—but tonight made it clear there was more than just that one stormy post-wedding mess. His drinking had hurt me to see, not because it embarrassed him, but because I didn’t want him harming himself, drowning whatever demons he had in the bottom of a bottle. Holly deserved better than that. He deserved better than what he thought of himself. And damn it, I hated the thought he didn’t know that.

The snow was building up on the sides of the road as I drove down the mountain and across town to Bailey’s place, thick piles of white gathering on the tree branches and creeping over fence posts. I loved this soft snow, but the nor’easter was still heading our way if the forecasters were to be believed. I passed the gate they’d close when the mountain got too treacherous, but for now, the road was clear enough to keep going. When I pulled up to Bailey and Kai’s house, the sky had dimmed, the early winter sunset casting a pink glow over the landscape.

When I knocked, it took a while, but finally, Bailey answered. He looked rough, with hair sticking up and eyes red-rimmed. He wore silk pajama bottoms and a flowing kimono over a white sweater. Their cat, Boots, was cradled under his chin, its paws dangling as Bailey held him close, his face tucked into soft fur.

“Hey,” Bailey said, still in that half-comatose state, blinking at me.

“Kai awake?” I asked, staying on their porch and determined not to get near the flu they were suffering from.

“Nah.” Bailey shifted Boots, who let out a soft meow, unbothered by the sudden jostling.

I hesitated, glancing at the coat rack, wondering how to put this. “I have a Paul Hollister report,” I said. “I saw him today, and he didn’t seem… right. Like something’s going on, is it…” I lowered my tone. “Is he in recovery? He said he was looking for a drink… I mean, is there something I should know or fix? Empty the cabin of drink? Is he in AA?”

Bailey blinked, and it was apparent he wasn’t catching up. Then, he let out a massive yawn, his hold on Boots loosening for a second before he clutched the cat closer. “Not drink, not now,” he mumbled. “Mostly, he talks to Kai, not me, and even then, not much since like May or whatever, when we um… visited.”

“Someone should keep an eye on him,” I said, shifting my weight.

Bailey lifted an eyebrow, giving me that knowing look, with his usually cute large eyes and the little brother pleading he had going on, and I realized I’d been volunteered.

I let out a sigh, but I couldn’t help smirking. “All right, fine, but so that you know, you look way less cute when you’re all snotty and red-faced.”

Bailey rolled his eyes and snorted, still holding Boots like a sleepy security blanket. “Sure, sure. Thanks, Lucas.”

I nodded, turning to leave, but Bailey’s low voice stopped me at the door. “One thing though… I shouldn’t tell you…”

“Tell me what?” The Haynes boys didn’t have secrets, apart from the one where Bailey had held an unrequited love for Kai for too many years and hadn’t told any of us.

Yep, that had been one hell of a secret.

He glanced over his shoulder as if he expected Kai to be right behind him, but from the coughing echoing down the stairs I could hear from outside, I doubted he was walking anywhere.

“Holly isn’t in a good place, okay?” He glanced down at Boots, scratching behind the cat’s ears, his face suddenly somber. “We need to be kind.”

A weight settled in my chest, heavier than I expected at my little brother’s anxiety-filled words and the emotion brightening his eyes.

“Bailey?” I asked.

He shook his head. “I can’t.”

It sounded awful, and I recalled the haunted look I’d seen in Holly’s eyes.

“Okay,” I murmured, feeling the weight of what I’d signed up for.

“So, you’ll look out for him for a little while until Kai is back on his feet?”

Part of me wanted to say no for the hell of it, but I’d do anything for my family.

And for some reason, I’d do anything for the man who’d spilled all kinds of crap but awakened something in me I didn’t truly understand.

What I felt for Holly was different. It was as if something had clicked after all this time, and suddenly I got it. I understood why people craved this connection. But instead of being struck by lightning the moment I’d seen him, it was slower, more gradual. There wasn’t a specific moment when I thought I was attracted to Holly.

It had just… happened.

Even if he was proving that nothing had changed in the last eleven months.

Wesley had volunteered his bookstore for tonight’s Parade of Lights planning session, and I must admit, it was the perfect space for getting in the Christmas mood. Cozy sofas had been arranged in a loose circle, each with a steaming mug of hot chocolate and a clipboard on the coffee table in front of it. The familiar smell of books, mixed with cinnamon and cocoa, hung in the air, making the space feel like Christmas had already moved in.

All the Haynes brothers were there, apart from Bailey, of course, plus Mom and Dad sharing one chair, with Mom in Dad’s lap, him whispering something that made her giggle. Callum and Duncan were huddled together, deep in conversation, which probably meant hockey—it always did with those two. Standing off to the side with a clipboard clutched in his hands, Wesley looked as though he might vibrate out of his skin with excitement. He’d eagerly taken the opportunity to host the meeting and, as the newest non-family member on the committee, was excited to revisit his summer pitch about adding the bookstore as a new stop in the parade.

I cleared my throat to get everyone’s attention back to the task at hand. “Okay, next on the agenda,” I said, glancing at Callum and Duncan and frowning to stop them messing about. Duncan snickered—asshole.

“Carry on,” Callum said, biting his lip to stop laughing.

Asshole brother number two.

“Wesley, your new stop here at the bookstore. How’s it going?”

Wesley lit up, stepping into the circle like he’d been waiting for this moment all night. “It’s going well, mostly!” he said, his voice bubbling enthusiastically. “I’m working on the agreed Christmas Carol theme—three spooky ghosts, with lights, and maybe a hot chocolate station. I’ve been working on the concept with the owner from the coffee shop next door—y’know, The Real McCoy, but…” He hesitated, wrinkling his nose. “Hunter’s not thrilled about Christmas. A little grumpy about it, actually.” Wesley winced as if he couldn’t understand why someone in Wishing Tree didn’t love Christmas.

“Hunter I-hate-talking-to-people McCoy, grumpy?” Callum piped up, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “That checks out.”

“Why does he own a coffee shop if he doesn’t like talking to people?” Wesley asked.

“God knows,” Duncan snorted, and even Dad chuckled, but Wesley pressed on, undeterred. “Still, I think it could be great! I have sketches for the storefront with scenes from the book, and I’ve planned a display with Christmas-themed books and ghost stories. If the hot chocolate station works out with Grumpy McGrumpy, it’ll tie the whole thing together.”

It was a good idea. Wesley’s enthusiasm was infectious, and everyone seemed on board when we finished discussing it. I jotted a few notes on my clipboard and glanced around the room. “All right, we’ve got several new items to add to the list. I’ll schedule the next planning meeting for here, three days from now at the same time. Is that okay, Wesley?”

“Sure is, Lu.”

“Everyone good with that?” Everyone nodded or grunted their yesses, apart from Wesley, who bounced on his toes as he scribbled in a diary. “And don’t forget, we only have twelve days until December 1st. Everyone, you have your tasks.”

After the meeting ended, I bundled up against the cold before heading to my car. The night air hit like a slap as I stepped outside, my breath misting in the glow of the streetlights. With my hands shoved deep into my pockets, I approached the car. Mom and Dad were holding hands and dawdling as they checked out store windows.

“In your own time, oldies,” I said, but I didn’t mean anything by it—I loved seeing the ’rents happy and holding hands.

I dropped them off with hugs and goodbyes, but as I drove toward my house, I hesitated to turn into my drive, a tug of worry gnawing at me. Before I could talk myself out of it, I headed further up the mountain road toward Holly’s cabin, happy to see the place was lit inside, a soft glow spilling through the curtains. His car remained in the driveway, and a steady puff of smoke curled up from the chimney.

At least the stove was still lit, and there was heat.

I sat there for a moment, debating whether I should knock. He was a grown man who hadn’t reached out or asked for help, and it wasn’t my responsibility to keep tabs on him. With a sigh, I shook my head and pulled away, telling myself it was ridiculous to barge in.

Back home, I removed my boots and shrugged off my coat, still unsettled. Holly was fine, I told myself, over and over, but the thought lingered, gnawing at the back of my mind. I opened my laptop, determined to distract myself by working through the latest health and safety issues for the parade. But as I typed up notes and revised the route checklist, my thoughts drifted back to Holly and the strange worry I couldn’t quite contain.

“Tomorrow,” I told no one. “I’ll check on him tomorrow.”