Chapter 21

CHAPTER 21

HOLLY

I had to tell Asher it was over.

Did I mean it? Do I want this?

The answer to those questions is obvious, but we need to put Dan’s feelings before our own. We’ve let this go too far for too long.

Focusing on work is difficult, especially when tears spring to my eyes. Each time I think about my brother, I almost cry. It’s the same if I think about Asher and what could’ve been and will never be.

My cell buzzes. I check it, hoping for a text from Asher, imagining the impossible. I’ve spoken to Dan. He said he wants us to be together, Snowflake.

Obviously not.

It’s my Secret Santa phone.

Derek: I guess you’ve told everybody I’m some kind of pervert, haven’t you?

Me: No, Derek, I reply. I don’t want to fight with you. I’m just not romantically interested.

Derek: I know, and I understand why. I’ve been doing some digging online. There are photos of the big boss and Asher Mitchell when they were teenagers at a science fair together with their arms around each other. It looks like they’ve been best buddies for a long time. How do you think your brother would feel if he found out, hmm?

I grip the table, lean back, and close my eyes. Try to focus. Try to find a semblance of peace. There’s nothing but chaos.

Derek: Hello? he texts. Are you still there?

Me: I don’t know what you want me to say. It was a Secret Santa game. We didn’t know who we were texting.

Derek: Do you expect me to believe Asher wasn’t aware of your history with your dad and your Christmas traditions? HE knew who YOU were. That alone is enough to wreck Dan—the fact his best buddy wanted to screw his sister.

Me: You don’t know what you’re talking about .

I have to type the message several times because my hand is shaking.

Derek: This is the part when you ask me what I want.

I feel sick. I grab the waste bin and put it nearby, just in case.

Me: You don’t have any leverage.

Derek: Sure, I don’t, Holly. That was sarcastic, by the way. You need to admit that I’ve only ever tried to be nice to you. I’ve only been friendly. I’m a decent person. I’ve complimented you, taking an interest in your work and hobbies. How have you repaid me? The Mr. Nice Guy crap is over, and you’ve only got yourself to blame. I want to see you. No clothes. You know the drill.

I grab the waste bin and stare down at the crumpled paper at the bottom for a few moments as I fight the urge to vomit.

Is this freak serious?

Is this his warped idea of a Christmas gift?

Derek: Send me the photo.

Me: I’m not sending anything. I’m not having digital evidence of anything like that out there. I can’t trust that you won’t post it somewhere.

Derek: Then prepare for this to be your big bro’s worst Christmas ever.

I try to think quickly, but panic floods me and makes me sluggish.

I push through the fog, step by step.

Me: I don’t want digital evidence, but I have a Polaroid camera. I won’t let you keep the photo, but if you’re determined to see me, I’ll take a picture and meet you in person.

Derek: Do it now.

Me: I can’t, Derek. I’ve got meetings and responsibilities. Please. Give me until tomorrow morning.

Derek: Don’t even think about tricking me. All I’ve ever wanted is to be kind to you. I’ve had a tough life, Holly. My mother was a sick, abusive woman, but she always told me that one day, I’d find a girl who was better than her and would make everything okay. As soon as I saw you, I knew I’d found my one.

Oh, no. He’s even more unhinged than I thought.

Derek: You’re my one , he texts. Tomorrow, at the Christmas tree. Eight a.m. We’ll have the wonderful meeting we should have had this morning.

I shiver. Jeez. This is bad. He’s always been too forward and insistent. Now, he’s stepped it up a notch or several? I’ve bought myself some time, but I’m unsure what to do. I need to get that phone from him.

I’ve pushed away the one person I could, maybe should, ask for help—Asher.

Perhaps I can talk to him and explain I want to work together on this with zero romantic feelings and nothing that will make my skin sizzle, my heart soar, and my resolve shake like Christmas gifts bouncing around in the back of Santa’s sleigh.

For now, I get on with the important task of chewing the hell out of my fingernails.

By the time Asher and Dan return from their date, I’m still no closer to an answer.

Snatch Derek’s phone?

If he doesn’t bring the phone, could I lure him back to his place and search for it? That would mean putting myself in the vulnerable position of being close to him in a confined, private place. That’s the last thing I want.

I turn to say hello to my brother and ex-lover, but only Asher is standing there.

“Where’s Dan?” I ask.

A pang of jealousy strikes me. Asher is wearing a dapper suit that would have any woman salivating. “His half of the double date went better than mine … not that I wanted it to go well.” He sits on the couch. “What have you been up to, Snow …” He trails off before completing my nickname. He’s trying to be good.

"Oh, nothing much,” I want to say. “Just sitting here thinking about the fact I’m being blackmailed by a jerk who could ruin our lives.”

“Just … sitting.”

“In the dark,” he mutters, leaning over and switching on a lamp. “With the TV off. And you’re not reading a book. Are you giving yourself the gift of transcendental meditation skills this year, then?” he smirks.

I smile. It’s always so easy with him. “I’m going to make some cocoa. Do you want anything?”

“I wouldn’t turn down a whiskey,” he says.

“The date went that bad, huh?”

“I like to have one from time to time to decompress,” he says. “Just one or two, though. You know …”

“Yeah, I get it.”

He doesn’t need to say it’s because of his mom.

Walking into the hallway, I catch sight of myself in a mirror. I’m wearing an oversized T-shirt and PJ bottoms that have seen better days. I adjust the shirt. I shouldn’t care, but I look frumpy. Yep, that’s the word.

I make the drinks and carry them into the living room. He’s taken off his jacket and laid it across the arm of the chair. As usual, his muscular physique gets me all kinds of inappropriately excited.

He sips his whiskey. “You make a mean drink.”

I laugh. It’s the first positive thing I’ve felt since Derek’s text. “You’re right. I’m one hell of a bottle pourer. So, why didn’t the date go well?”

He stares at me with his wintery eyes. “Don’t ask silly questions, Holly. We both know why the date didn’t go well. No date I’ve ever been on has gone well, except when I took a certain somebody to a climbing center. Come to think of it, a certain toy drive and steakhouse weren’t bad, either.”

Three dates. It’s so much more than that. We’ve got our history, the fact I’m the only person who’s been able to crack the ice that has covered him for so long.

“We’ll always have those memories,” I say, turning away from him.

“That’s all they’ll ever be,” he mutters.

“Uh, oh. Are you a depressing drunk?”

“I’m nowhere near close to being drunk. But if you’re asking me if the thought of not being with you makes me feel low, then hell yeah, it does. I understand it’s the way things have to be. I know you’re right. You should’ve heard Dan when the ladies went to the bathroom.”

“What?” I ask.

He laughs ruefully. “He demanded to know why I wouldn’t flirt with his date’s friend. I was doing my best, but it felt like I was betraying you.” He sets his glass down, looking thoughtfully at me. “I know you don’t want to hear it.”

“I can’t hear it,” I say. “It’s not a question of want.”

“It’s the truth.”

“We have to be good.”

He smirks. “Miss Goody Two-shoes, right?”

Standing, he walks up to me and pulls me to my feet. When he kisses me, I know it’s inappropriate. I’ve known every single time, but the fact never seems to make any lasting impression in my psyche.

He groans, pressing against me. Then he pauses. “Is something wrong?”

Yes. Derek. Tomorrow. Everything.

What would Asher do if I told him? Would he go nuts and confront Derek? If he did that, Dan might hear about it.

“I’m just tired,” I murmur. “I’m sorry.”

“No, I’m sorry.” When he lets me go, I can see how difficult it is for him. “You’ve told me to back off. I can’t be around you, Snowflake. Knowing what we could be drives me crazy. I can live in this snow globe forever.”

Another smile. Again, too freaking easy. “Snow globe?”

“That’s how I think of us. When we’re together, everything else seems far away. We’re inside a snow globe, shaking each other up. The rest of the world doesn’t matter because it doesn’t exist.” He takes my hands, sliding his thumbs over my knuckles. “That’s the thing about having an addict for a parent. It makes a person’s mind erratic. The past becomes depressing, the future becomes unsure, and the present is intolerable. With you, the past is sweet. The future is sweeter. The present is pure temptation. If it wasn’t for …”

He lets my hands go.

“For my brother,” I whisper, tears sliding down my cheeks.

“Hey, Snowflake. It’s okay.” He tenderly touches my face and wipes my tears away. “You don’t have to cry. You’re not broken. You don’t need this snow-globe world. One day, you’ll find another man, one you can be with without shame or constantly worrying. You’ll be happy.”

“I won’t,” I snap. “I want you, Asher. You’re the only …”

I turn away.

“I’m tired. I need to go to bed. I-I’m sorry.”

“Stop apologizing,” he says fiercely as I stride from the room.

I half wish he’d follow me, but I know it’d only end in disaster.