Page 4 of A Christmas For Holly

My head spun, and then I felt a slap of icy air, and I was walking, or dancing, close to throwing up.

A door opened and closed, and a flood of warm, spiced air hit me, filling my nose with the scent of Christmas—pine, cinnamon and the earthy smell of wood shavings and candles. The light in this room was soft and golden, and as I spun in an uncoordinated circle, I recognized where I was.

The Wishing Tree Gift Emporium—owned by the Haynes family and run by Callum and Lucas. Local crafts lined the shelves: art from nearby artists, candles, soaps, and small sculptures. Hanging crystals spun in the window, catching the streetlight and sending rainbows across the walls. It was the kind of place that felt as though Christmas had taken root and bloomed year-round, its heat and magic wrapping around me the moment I stepped inside, and I was determined not to throw up in there.

“Magic can kill monsters,” I managed.

“What?” Lucas’s hand was on my back, steadying me, guiding me to a high stool by the counter.

“Magic and monsters,” I repeated. At least, I thought I did.

He said something about it being quiet here, and how I needed to sober the fuck up. Before I knew it, he’d handed me a water bottle and stood there, watching as I drank it straight down like it was one of those energy drinks I used to chug after grueling practices. The second bottle was halfway gone beforethe haze in my head settled, and I found myself in that soft, safe space where the monster in my chest was silent, lulled to sleep.

Yep, the magic had worked.

I blinked at Lucas, his face somehow clearer than everything else around me. The twinkling of fairy lights around the cash desk caught in his blue eyes, and something about the way he looked at me made my chest tighten. I squinted, my mouth working faster than my brain. “You’re so damn pretty.”

Lucas’s brows arched, his lips twitching in what I assumed was amusement. “Pretty?” he repeated, as if he couldn’t believe the word had come out of my mouth.

“Not pretty,” I corrected, shaking my head as if that helped clarify things. “Sexy. Yeah, that’s better. You’re sexy. But also kinda cute? Like, your nose. And those freckles. But mostly sexy.”

“Holly,” he warned, though there wasn’t much bite in his tone.

“No, no, hear me out.” I waved my hand vaguely in the air, almost dropping the empty water bottle in the process. “Your eyes. They’re like… rainbows. But not full rainbows. Just the part where they sparkle and make everything better. How do you even get eyes like that? They’re so—so unfairly blue.”

Lucas sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “You’re drunk.”

“Not drunk,” I argued, pointing at him with all the conviction of a man who had just chugged two bottles of water. “Sober. Sobering. And I still think you’re too damn good-looking. I don’t even deserve to sit here with you, let alone—” I stopped myself, the rest of the sentence tangling in my throat.

I want to kiss him. I want him.

My brain, fuzzy and half-full of regrets, decided it was a great time to dig up memories I’d buried long ago. “You know,” I said, my voice soft, almost wistful, “I remember when I first met you. We were what—eighteen? God, you were so pretty back then too.I wanted to talk to you, but I was so shy. Can you believe that? Me. Shy.”

Lucas didn’t say anything, only watched me, his blue gaze steady, as if he were trying to figure out what direction I was heading in.

“Then hockey happened,” I continued, my words spilling out, slurred but honest. “Kai became my best friend. And you—well, you’re his best friend. And that made everything… complicated. I don’t know. I’m confused with everything right now.”

“Holly—”

“I want to kiss you,” I blurted before he could stop me.

The admission hung in the air between us, raw and naked and absolutely terrifying.

Lucas sighed, holding up a hand like a referee calling time-out. “You’re drunk, Holly.”

“So?” I challenged, leaning forward. “Do you want to kiss me?”

He hesitated long enough for my heart to sink, then shook his head, his voice firm but gentle. “Not when you’re drunk.”

That stung more than I wanted to admit, but I nodded, trying to hold on to my last shreds of dignity.

“Can I get a hug, then?” My voice cracked, and I hated how small I sounded.

Lucas tilted his head, studying me. “Are you going to throw up?”

“No,” I said quickly, shaking my head as if that alone would make it true. “Promise.”

“Okay then,” he said, opening his arms after a moment. “One hug. Then you need to get back to your hotel.”

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