Chapter 25

CHAPTER 25

HOLLY

“ S ee, the email is anonymous,” Brianna says, showing Asher her phone, which has screenshots of the email on it.

“We know who sent them, Mom,” Asher snarls. “There’s a lowlife who can’t take no for an answer. He’s been harassing Holly for months.”

“I don’t get it,” I mutter. “He could pick anybody, and he’s fixated on me. It’s weird.”

“That’s not the weird part,” Asher says. “You’re beautiful, funny, kind, intelligent, and talented. There are plenty of reasons for somebody to choose you.”

I smile like the world’s biggest fool, like a girl who doesn’t understand this can’t have a happy ending.

“Do you think he has photos?” Brianna asks anxiously.

“I doubt it, Mom,” Asher replies, leaning back in the armchair and groaning. “He’s a lunatic. I don’t know what his problem is.”

“He mentioned something about his childhood.” I shrug. “It doesn’t matter. Whatever it is, it’s bad for us. If he tells Dan …”

“That’s why we need to get there first,” Asher says. “Get out in front of this.”

“Care to explain?” Brianna murmurs.

“This Derek douche has a recording of me admitting I’ve been with Snowflake—with Holly.” Brianna smiles at the nickname. “He’s going to tell Dan I’ve been with his sister.”

“Dan’s going to find out eventually anyway, isn’t he?” Brianna says, sounding confused.

“How so?” I ask.

She looks at me as if I’m missing something. “What’s the alternative?”

I shift in my chair. “Well, the alternative is we keep this …” I almost call it a fling, but it would be dishonest. “Keep us a secret. We go on with our lives. Dan never learns what happened.”

“Surely you can see that will never work,” Brianna says. “I don’t mean to overstep. I hardly know you, Holly, though I feel like I do. And you, Asher, I’ve never been the mother to you I should’ve been.”

Asher lays his hand over hers. “That’s in the past, Mom.”

Pride swells in me.

“Anybody could see that you two are in this for the long haul,” Brianna remarks.

“Why do you say that?” I ask sharply.

Perhaps my anger comes from a place of knowing it’s true and knowing I can’t even wish it wasn’t.

“I just …” Brianna looks at her son and then at me. “If I didn’t know your circumstances, I’d assume you were a couple already. It radiates from you. The sense of being a team: the affection, the love.”

“Nobody said anything about love,” I whisper, sounding desperate.

“You didn’t have to say anything,” Brianna mutters.

“Snowflake has decided, Mom,” Asher says. “Don’t put dangerous ideas into her head.”

Yeah, like those ideas weren’t there already.

“I’m not saying you’re wrong, Brianna,” I murmur. “This isn’t about Asher and me. This is about my brother.”

“Speak of the devil,” Asher says, glancing at his phone. “He’s calling me. Maybe he wants to know why I’ve gone AWOL.”

My belly swirls with nerves as he answers the phone, and his expression changes. He clenches his jaw.

“I can’t deny it,” Asher says. “No, it’s not a deepfake.”

I rush into the hallway to the bathroom and keel over the toilet bowl. By the time I’ve returned from puking my guts out, Asher is no longer on the phone. He stares at his cell on the table, his hand clenched into a tight fist on his knee, bobbing up and down as his foot taps.

“What did he say?” I whisper, tears in my eyes.

“Derek sent him the recording. I think he got drunk after our meeting in the park earlier, hence the emails to Mom’s church. God knows who else he’s messaged.”

“What did my brother say?” I ask desperately.

“He said we’ve ruined Christmas, betrayed him. He said not to think about returning to the office or going home tonight. You better send him the recording of Derek, Holly. At least that prick will get what he deserves.”

Asher’s voice is numb as if he’s disconnected so that he can handle this.

Screw that.

I take out my phone and call my big brother. He rejects the first, second, and third calls. On the fourth, he finally answers.

“Dan, don’t hang up,” I blurt.

“How could you?” he snaps. “And for how long? He called you his woman. You don’t say something like that unless it’s serious. Lie to me, sis. Tell me nothing’s happened.”

I swallow a lump of pained emotion. Tears blur my vision and slide down my cheeks. “I can’t,” I admit.

“Then I’ve got nothing to say to you I haven’t already said to Asher,” he snaps. “Oh, and sis? Merry Christmas.”

He hangs up. I drop onto the couch, sobs escaping me, pain tearing through my soul.

“I’ve never heard him like that before,” I whisper between sobs that tighten my chest. “He’s never spoken to me like that. We’ve always been so close. What happens when he tells Mom and …”

Suddenly, I’m trembling all over, tears flooding my eyes. I don’t know what’s happening to me. Every worst-case scenario plays in my head simultaneously, immediately translating to sensations in my body.

All the Christmas warmth accumulated until this point gathers into an enormous ball and turns bleak.

I lie on the couch, shaking, finding it difficult to breathe. Any time I attempt to suck in air, it’s like my lungs are deflating.

“Just breathe, Snowflake?—”

“Don’t touch me,” I croak.

“Mom, help her, please.” Asher sounds more desperate than I ever could’ve imagined before this.

Brianna sits on the edge of the coffee table and takes my hand, cradling it. “Breathe with me, dear. You’re having a panic attack.”

Is she right? I’ve never had one of those before.

“Breathe with me,” Brianna says gently. “We’re going to inhale for two seconds, hold, and then exhale for two seconds. Can you do that for me, dear, please? I bet you can …”

It takes a long time, but after following her instructions, I can slowly stop this cramped feeling in my chest.

I sit up. Asher stands on the other side of the table, staring anxiously down at me.

“I’m sorry. I never lose control like that,” I murmur.

“These are stressful circumstances,” Brianna says softly.

“What are we going to do?”

“I don’t know,” Asher says. “I wish I had the answers.”

“I think you should both stay the night here,” Mom says. “You can talk to Dan tomorrow when he’s cooled off. Nothing’s going to get solved when everybody’s got a hot head. My son has gifted me with a home with more bedrooms than I need. You can have my room, Holly. Asher, you can have the guestroom. I’ll sleep on the pullout.”

“No, Mom,” I say. “I’ll take the pullout.”

“I’ll take the guestroom,” I say. “There’s no use me kicking you out of your room.”

I don’t deserve special favors.

“I’ll run to the store and get us fresh underwear and clothes,” Asher mutters. “Somehow, I doubt Dan will want me to swing by.”

That almost makes me cry again. Get it together, Holly. I’m not little Tarantino anymore. I’m a grown woman who makes her own decisions. I have to live with the consequences.

I lose my resolve, calling Dan three more times. Each time, he sends me to voicemail.

Dan: I don’t want to talk. He texts after the third rejection. You need to accept that.

I walk to the window and stare out at the street. Snow has fallen. It would be beautiful if it weren’t for the sadness in me coloring every aspect of reality.

Asher: We can make it through this. Asher texts me as if knowing I need the encouragement.

I think of him downstairs on the pullout, shirtless and brooding. I’m the worst sister ever if these images still come to me at a time like this. It’s like I can’t help it. There’s something wrong with me.

Me: I don’t see how. He’s never going to give us his blessing.

Asher: You’re probably right, but I left this city once before. I can do it again.

Me: You came here to be closer to Dan and your mom. You can’t just leave.

Asher: What’s the alternative? he demands. We’ve let this get out of hand. I let it spiral out of control. I knew you were my Secret Santa. I should’ve had more discipline.

Me: Stop talking like this was a one-way street. I was pretty sure you were my Secret Santa, too. I didn’t stop it. I didn’t stop the kissing, the touching, everything else.

Asher: Either way, I can end this, Asher goes on. Tomorrow, I’ll go to Dan and tell him I started this and took advantage of you. I’ll explain that I’m willing to leave. He’s my best friend, and it’ll hurt, but he’s your family. That’s going to sting so much more. I can’t let you sacrifice your relationship with him.

If I were being reasonable, I’d want this to happen.

Me: You can’t leave before Christmas, I text, knowing it’s silly, but somehow, it’s not. This has been the best Christmas of my life. At least, it was until my big brother started hating me.

Seeing Asher as Santa, the joy he inspired in the kids, and watching him reconnect with his mother and finally embrace the holiday spirit meant everything to me.

Asher: Snowflake, we’re way beyond Christmas now. This is about your future with your brother.

Me: I guess I’m just being immature.

Asher: I didn’t mean it like that, he replies.

Me: When will you leave? I ask.

Asher: Tomorrow morning. I think it’s better if I go alone. Will you be able to find your own way home? Mom will let you stay for a while. It’s better if we don’t see each other, though.

He’s right. I know that. Yet the thought of never seeing him again hurts.

Me: Can you hold me like you did the other night? Just until I fall asleep? I know it’s wrong of me to ask, but if this is the end, I’d like some final moments with you.

Asher: It’s wrong of you to ask, he replies, and for me to say yes. It’s wrong how badly I need that.

I toss my phone onto the bed. I can’t be mad at his response. As he said, he’s being the mature one.

My door handle turns, the door creaking as it opens. Asher stands in the doorway, wearing a shirt and shorts. Every inch of his sculpted form bulging like all his stress is physically bubbling up. He closes the door and walks quietly across the room.

“One last night,” he whispers.

He lies down, lifting his arm. I crawl into the space and put my cheek against his chest. His heart is pounding through his pec. He gently strokes his hand through my hair.

“I’m going to miss you,” I tell him.

“I’m going to miss you too, Snowflake.”

“This was never going to be a Christmas miracle, was it?”

He sighs, “I don’t think so.”

I prop my hands on his chest, looking up. He’s staring at me, his frosty eyes containing so much.

“What?” I ask, laughing quietly.

He smiles. “I’m just trying not to kiss you.”

“When you look at me like that … ditto.”

I lean up. He leans down. We meet in the middle, and passion blazes through us. I moan as my hands tighten against his skin, my fingernails pushing against his solidness.

He rolls over, his hand gliding down my body, over my hip, toward my ass. Pleasure coaxes me to forget about our responsibilities. I slide my hand under his shirt, over his belly, feeling the ridges of his abs.

He groans like he’s going to tell me to stop but then kisses me harder, hungrier.

I slide into his lap and move my hips, feeling so sexy when I’m with him. Any doubts about my body are difficult to entertain when he grabs hold of me like I’m the only woman he ever wants to touch.

We stop when Brianna yells, “Asher? Asher? I’m sorry. I don’t know what to do.”

Asher springs to his feet, rushing for the door. “Mom?”