Page 10 of A Christmas For Holly

I hesitated, feeling a lump form in my throat. There was only one thing I wanted—the same happiness my brothers had found: a happy ever after, a cozy home filled with laughter, and maybe a couple of kids running around. But for me, it was never thatsimple. I wasn’t like most people—I didn’t feel the same pull or attraction that seemed to come so quickly to others. I longed for what they had, but every time I tried to chase that dream, it felt… empty. Forced.

And for some godforsaken reason, my stupid heart wanted one person.

Paul Hollister.

Fuck my life.

It was almost Christmas again, almost a full year since I’d seen Holly at the wedding, and in the eleven months since he’d kissed me, threatened me, and then run, I’d worked my way through it all—anger and the sharp sting of temper that still lingered long after the words had faded. Then came the horror, raw and unrelenting, at the memory of that kiss. Not because it had happened but because I’d wanted it.

He threatened me.

Told me it was my fault.

He didn’t mean that, he was drunk. He’s not an asshole.

Right?

And somewhere along the way, that horror twisted into something I couldn’t ignore anymore.

Need.

Not just a need to understand him, to unravel the mess of who he was and why he’d done what he’d done, but a deeper, more personal need. A want I couldn’t push aside, no matter how hard I tried. It terrified me, the way he’d buried himself under my skin, how that kiss—a drunken, desperate thing—still held me in its grip.

Since he’d vanished, retired from the Harriers, and gone silent, I’d done my best not to come off as interested, holding back from pestering Kai about what he was up to. On the two occasions I’d let my curiosity slip as to why Holly didn’t visit,Kai had been vague, brushing it off with something about him“looking for his next role”or“figuring things out.”

I could have contacted him myself if I’d had the courage of my convictions. But what would I say? He’d retired, left his hockey career behind, and had never returned to Wishing Tree—not even for Kai and Bailey. That didn’t scream longing for me after that kiss. And why would it? He didn’t know how I felt about him because I was only coming to terms with it myself.

I couldn’t get that kiss out of my head, whether he’d been drunk off his ass or not. But Holly had left, disappearing into his own world, and as much as I hated to admit it, his silence told me all I needed to know. Whatever I’d been feeling was one-sided. Or so I kept telling myself.

I wanted what my brothers had—love that felt easy and natural—but it always felt out of reach. I wondered if I was overthinking it. What did being demiromantic and demisexual in a world that celebrated immediate attraction mean?

When I thought about attraction, it wasn’t like a switch flipping on; it was more like a slow candle being lit, taking its time to flicker to life. I craved connection, depth, and understanding before I could entertain the idea of romantic feelings. It left me feeling somewhat lost, unable to navigate the familiar waters of dating and relationships when my only connection was to Holly.

A kiss I couldn’t forget, unlike anything I’d ever known. It was all whiskey, heat, and intensity—a spark that shattered everything I thought I knew about myself. Holly’s rough yet gentle hands had cradled my face, grounding me, holding me as though he couldn’t let go. His lips, soft and warm, carried a tenderness beneath the urgency, offering a piece of himself I never knew existed.

He’d kissed me like he meant it, like he needed it, and for that moment, nothing else had mattered. His scent filled thespace between us, his mouth moved over mine, and I’d been left breathless, dazed, and undone. In that stolen moment, he’d broken through every wall I’d built, leaving me vulnerable in a way I couldn’t ignore.

No matter how much time had passed, I couldn’t shake the feel of his hands, the press of his lips, or the way that kiss upended everything I thought I knew about myself. Holly had shattered my certainty with one kiss, and it lingered, unforgettable.

“Uncle Lucas?” Alice’s voice pulled me back to the moment, grounding me. I forced a smile, reminding myself that while I might not fit neatly into a pigeonhole, I was still worthy of love and connection in my own way. I didn’t have all the answers, but maybe that was okay. One day, I’d find someone who wasn’t Holly but who kissed like Holly, looked like Holly, understood me, and could light that candle in a way that felt right.

“Sorry,” I replied, shaking my head to clear it. I dropped a couple of dollars into the honesty box, a simple gesture that felt oddly significant. Then I took a card and began to scribble down a wish. I wished for what my brothers had—a life filled with love, laughter, and a genuine sense of belonging. It felt like a long shot, but maybe, just maybe, this tree would work its magic.

As I tied the paper to the branch, I felt a strange mix of hope and resignation. One day, I told myself. One day, I’d find someone who ignited that passion within me and made me feel alive in a way that didn’t remind me of Holly. Someone who wasn’t a loud, drunk, pushy hockey player filled with hate and hurt but rather someone kind and genuine.

“Let’s get that hot chocolate,” I said, turning to Alice with a smile.

Her face lit up, mischief in her eyes as she grinned back at me. For a moment, I felt the warmth of her excitement lift myspirits, and I clung to that feeling, hoping it could carry me through the uncertainty that lay ahead.

“Can I have extra whipped cream?” she asked.

“What would your mom say about that?” I replied.

She wrinkled her cute nose at me. “We won’t tell her unless she asks.”

“And if she asks?”

She rolled her eyes. “I’ll tell her it was your fault.”

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