Page 21 of A Christmas For Holly

It rang twice before someone answered, but it wasn’t Kai.

“Holly!” Bailey’s voice came through, sounding tired but familiar. My stomach twisted.

“Hi, Bailey,” I greeted, trying to keep the disappointment out of my voice. “Is um… is Kai there?”

“He’s sleeping,” Bailey replied, and I could hear the rustle of sheets in the background. “Flu’s hit him hard.”

“Can I get you anything? Are you ill? Can I help?”

“I’m not feeling a hundred percent, but we’re all good.”

I nodded, although he couldn’t see me. “Okay, then.”

“I’ll let him know you’re here when he next surfaces, but his temp is a hundred and three, and he’s in his comatose period of the illness.”

“Did you get the doctor out? Does he need to go to the hospital?—”

“He’s fine, we’re fine.”

“He can call me if he wants, but there’re no bars up at the cabin, just one if you take your phone to the road. The man who owns the cabin was worried because it wasn’t finished, but I told him I was okay and that it wouldn’t matter if I didn’t have a dishwasher, and it might be fun doing dishes and…” I ran out of breath and couldn’t pick up my thoughts.

“Is everything okay, Holly?” Bailey’s voice came through, soft and steady, carrying a concern I couldn’t quite understand.

I gripped the phone, pressing it to my ear, feeling the shame coil tighter in my stomach. After what I’d said to Lucas at the wedding, I’d assumed he’d have told Bailey everything by now—the fact I’d forced a kiss on him,thenaccused him of pushing me andthenthreatened him. I’d been bracing myself for weeks, waiting for the moment when Bailey or Kai would cut me off and tell me exactly what they thought of me.

But no, they’d come to rescue me and get me into the Player Assistance Program. They’d cleaned my house, emptied the fridge, and said they’d stay as long as I needed.

My breakdown was a private pain that I had to deal with on my own—I’d sent them away.

Still, they’d seen the worst of me, yet here Bailey was, asking if I was okay as if nothing had happened.

“Yeah,” I mumbled, forcing the words out. “I’m… I’m fine.”

There was a beat of silence on the line, and I waited for him to ask the questions I didn’t have answers for. “That’s good, Holly.”

It didn’t make sense. Bailey’s kindness made the shame rise even higher, stinging like salt in a wound. I wanted to yell out an apology, to say something, anything to make it right, but the words just stuck in my throat. Instead, I held the phone to my ear, listening to his steady breathing, feeling more like a fraud with every passing second.

“Kai will be happy you’re here.”

His words made my chest tighten, and for a second, I almost told him everything. But I swallowed it down, forcing a smile into my voice. “I know, Bailey. Thanks.”

“It’s cold here,” I continued after a moment because the weather was always a good thing to throw into an awkward conversation.

“Yeah, more snow on the way, so stay warm, okay?” I could feel Bailey’s concern down the line. “I’ll let Kai know you called when he wakes up.”

“Thanks,” I said, my voice quieter now. “I appreciate it.”

“And as soon as we’re better, you’ll visit, right? Or we can come to you.” I hated he felt he had to ask—but why wouldn’t he? I’d spent five months ignoring calls and messages, and Kai had to have told him what I’d done, and now Bailey must think I was a fucking awful friend.

“Either. I’d love that,” I reassured him.

We said our goodbyes, and I ended the call, staring at the phone, the bars vanishing. I didn’t even ask about the hockey scores or try to download an update, and somehow, after getting my fill of talking to another human, I was done.

I lasted an hour inside the house thinking about last night’s game, pacing the small space between the kitchen and sofa, and tripping over bags I still hadn’t unpacked before I gave in.

The cold bit through my layers as I bundled up again, my scarf pulled tight around my neck, and my hat tugged low over my ears. The cabin was warm enough inside, but out here, it wasstill the kind of cold that made your breath hang heavy in the air and seep through to your bones if you stood still for too long. My boots crunched in the snow as I walked down the path, holding my phone up in search of a bar of signal. Just one. That was all I needed.

Eventually, a single bar appeared, flickering faintly in the corner of the screen, and I stopped, exhaling a puff of mist into the freezing air. I pulled up the scores, knowing how it would go but needing to see it anyway. Harriers versus Railers. Final score: 6–1. A blowout. Predictable.

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