Page 17 of A Christmas For Holly

I rolled my eyes, muttering as I parked beside the eyesore.

I knocked, but there was no answer. I tried the door, which was shut but unlocked, so I went inside, closing out the frigid air.

The cabin was quiet—too quiet. My eyes adjusted to the dim light, and I scanned the room, looking for any sign of Holly. That was when I saw him curled up in blankets on the sofa in front of the unlit stove.

All I could see was his forehead, but he was shivering, and I knew something was wrong. He wasn’t only cold—he was out of it. Was he drunk or on something? He hadn’t registered I was there.

“Hollister?” I called out, but he didn’t respond. I crossed the room quickly, dropping beside him and shaking his shoulder. “Paul? Holly!”

For a moment, nothing happened, and I felt a surge of panic. But then his eyes fluttered open, unfocused and glassy, and he reached out, gripping my arm with surprising strength, his fingers icy.

“I’m so cold,” he whispered, his voice hoarse and broken. “Why is it so cold?”

I tried to ignore the surge of emotions his touch stirred up—anger, concern, frustration—all tangled together in a confusing mess. Compassion shoved aside my irritability.

“You didn’t light the stove, idiot,” I said.

I glanced around the room, spotting another heavy blanket draped over the armchair. I reached for it, wrapping it around his shoulders as I tried to get him to sit up. He was dead weight, his body limp as if he couldn’t muster the energy to move on his own. Whatever he’d taken had to be potent.

“Come on, Holly, work with me here,” I urged.

He mumbled something incoherent, his head lolling against my shoulder as I managed to get him into a sitting position.

Sudden fear bubbled inside me, but I pushed it down and focused on the task. This was Holly—he might be a pain in my ass, but he was still a person, still someone I couldn’t leave here to freeze.

“Stay with me, okay?” I whispered, keeping my voice low as I rubbed his back, trying to generate warmth. “You’re gonna be fine.”

He didn’t respond, his eyes slipping closed again, but at least his breathing was steady, even if it was shallow. I kept rubbing his back, talking to him to keep him here with me, although part of me wanted to shake him and demand to know what he was thinking, letting himself get into this state. I couldn’t smell alcohol, but vodka was a thing, and if it were drugs, then I wouldn’t know.

But there’d be time to find out what his choice of poison was later. Right now, all I could do was get the stove going, warm him up, and hope whatever he’d taken would wear off soon.

I pulled out the kindling, wood, and sheets of paper he’d crammed in. Only after I’d rebuilt it all, the fire was lit, and warmth began to fill the room did I step back and sink onto the sofa beside him. While I waited for him to emerge from his cocoon of blankets, I jotted down some clear instructions for using the stove and placed them next to the pile of supplies.

“Jesus, Holly, you fucking idiot.”

Chapter 7

Holly

I woketo the warmth of a fire, the crackling of flames burning low in the stove filling the cabin. Had I managed to light it? I didn’t recall getting it done, but my meds made the world fluffy sometimes, so who knew? I’d had the weirdest dream—my guilty conscience conjuring up Lucas of all people, and yeah, he’d called me a stupid idiot, but he’d been kind to me.

At least, I think so.

The heat from the fire was doing its job a little too well, and I blinked, trying to clear the fog from my mind. The lingering effects of the anti-anxiety meds made everything feel as if I was moving through treacle.

I tried to stand, fighting to get all but one of the blankets off me. My body protested, my legs weak and unsteady. I stumbled, catching myself on the arm of the couch before I could hit the floor.

Come on, Holly,I told myself, taking a deep breath.You’ll be okay. Just take it slow.

Using the furniture for support, I went to the small kitchen. Every step felt like a monumental effort, my legs heavy from the medication. My head throbbed, and I had to pause momentarily, leaning against the counter, waiting for the dizziness to pass.

I opened a cupboard, staring at the plates inside. I needed a drink, something to clear my head, but all I could think was how far away everything seemed and how hard it was to focus.

Where the hell are the cups?I thought, frustration bubbling up. I closed the cupboard door, turning to look around the kitchen, but nothing made sense. My vision blurred as I stepped back, my foot catching on the edge of the blanket that had somehow wrapped around my legs.

It’s okay, Holly,I thought to myself, gripping the counter as hard as possible.You’ll be okay. Just... you’re going to be fine.

But then my knees buckled, and I felt myself falling. I braced for the impact, my heart pounding, but as I started to go down, someone caught me. The momentum dragged us both backward, and the next thing I knew, we were both on the floor, tangled in the dropped blanket, my head spinning as I tried to make sense of what had happened.

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