Page 34 of A Christmas For Holly

“Yeah, get some rest,” I told him.

He threw me a weak smile before disappearing behind the door again. I turned back to my truck, unsure what to do next, checking my cell and the bright red weather warning on the screen, and saw a message from Duncan.

DUNCAN: School shut early. Can you come help close the store early? Mom and Dad don’t need anything. Kids all home.

LUCAS: On my way

The last snowstorm like this had cut the town off for a while, and all I could think was that thank goodness it was now and not in ten days when the parade started. The tourist dollars kept Wishing Tree going; December was our busiest month. But this snowstorm was us closed for the next few days, the snow already falling. The air had a biting chill that seeped into my bones, making it clear this would be rough. I could almost feel the weight of the snow in those clouds, just waiting to break open and bury the place.

I pushed through the door, the bell above it jingling as I stepped inside. Duncan was already at the counter, sorting through receipts with the kind of focus only he could manage after a long day. The place was quiet now, the last customers probably scared away by the impending snow dump, leaving behind the scent of cinnamon soap and pine candles that always lingered in the air.

“Here as requested, even though it’s my day off,” I said, shrugging off my coat.

Duncan glanced up, smirking. “Generous of you. Want to cash out the till?”

“Already on it,” I replied, moving behind the counter to start counting the bills and coins, double-checking the numbers against the register. Once the cash was locked away, I turned to the window display, ensuring the fake snowflakes’ LED lights still glowed against the glass.

“Don’t forget the front lock,” Duncan reminded me as he walked toward the back, grabbing his coat.

I nodded, my gaze drifting to the seasonal aisle. A small box containing a fake tree caught my eye—nothing fancy, maybe three feet tall when built, pre-lit with tiny white lights. Next was a bin of bargain decorations, a jumble of mismatched baubles and tinsel. Before I could overthink it, I grabbed the tree, a handful of ornaments, and a couple of strings of tinsel, tucking them under my arm.

Duncan reappeared as I was stacking everything on the counter. He arched a brow, folding his arms. “What’s all that for?”

“It’s for Holly’s place,” I said, ringing up the items and bagging them myself. “I’ll give it to him the next time I see him.”

Duncan’s smirk turned into a grin, and he leaned against the counter, watching me. “Holly does Christmas, eh? See what I did there? Christmas, Holly?”

I shoved him because I could. “Haha. I’m not letting him spend the season without one.”

After that, Duncan didn’t say much, but as we locked up the store together, he clapped me on the shoulder. “Get home safe.”

I drove out of town, heading to my house at the bottom of the mountain road, snow falling heavier now. It was the worst I’d seen in a few years, coming down in thick, fast sheets that made visibility a nightmare. At least the barrier wasn’t lowered to stop people heading up the mountain, so it wasn’t that bad yet. As I rounded a bend at a snail’s pace, trees broke the snowfall, and something caught my eye—color in the middle of all that white.I squinted, trying to make sense of it, and my stomach dropped when I realized what it was.

Holly.

Was he walking? Like some long-lost abominable snowman, half-covered in snow, he was trudging upward, and I cursed under my breath.What the hell is he doing? Where the fuck is his car?

I pulled the truck over, my heart pounding as I stopped beside him and shouted his name. “Holly! What the fuck? Get in the car!”

He didn’t respond immediately—he walked on, holding bags to his chest as if they were the most critical thing in the world.

By the time I reached him and nudged the car up again, with the window lowered, I could barely hear anything over the howl of the wind, but I could see the exhaustion etched into his face. I parked the car, left the engine running, and waded through the snow to grab him. He stopped walking only because I moved ahead of him, and he collided with me.

“Get in the car!” I repeated.

He stared at me, “Saved again,” he managed, and I tugged and pulled him to my car. “I don’t like the cold, y’know, even though I’m a skater, I’m okay. I was waiting for it to stop…” he babbled and didn’t stop even when he and his books were in my car. I contemplated heading back to town. Did he need to see a doctor? Was he hypothermic?

I kept glancing at Holly as he sat in the passenger seat of my truck, his hands stretched out in front of the vents, trying to soak up the hot air blasting from the heater. He wasn’t saying much now; he stared straight ahead. I could see the tremors in his fingers and the way his body shook despite the warmth filling the car.

My mind was racing, trying to remember the signs of hypothermia—confusion, shivering, skin pale. Holly had theshivering down. And the pale part had been there when I’d found him. But confusion? That was harder to tell, given he hadn’t stopped talking about how cold it was.

“Hey,” I said, trying to get a read on him, poking at his arm. “You know where you are?”

Holly blinked a few times, still staring at his hands. “The car and I’m… fine,” he muttered, his teeth chattering. “Just cold.”

Cold.That was obvious, but it didn’t ease the worry gnawing at me. His lips weren’t blue, and he was mostly making sense. But the fact he’d been out there in a snowstorm, clutching those damn books like they were lifelines, didn’t sit right with me. Something was happening in his head, not only the cold.

“I hope the little bird will be okay,” he whispered, but he wasn’t looking at me, instead staring out the window to the side. “I have nuts.”

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