Page 72 of A Christmas For Holly

“Always,” Lucas replied, and the sincerity in his tone made me glance at him, my heart swelling.

“Are you having a good day?”

We talked briefly, but it was hard to hear, and they were at a friend’s place with dinner almost ready. After the call ended, Lucas stayed close, his arm brushing mine. “Okay?”

I glanced at the chaos. “Sure.”

He elbowed me in the side. “Want to head back to the cabin for some peace?”

“Fuck, yes,” I said.

We said our goodbyes, then slipped out, and as we drove back through the snow-draped streets of Wishing Tree, I leaned back in the truck, feeling the peace I hadn’t realized I was searching for. The cabin greeted us with its cozy warmth, and as Lucas stoked the fire, I finally felt as though I could breathe again.

“Merry Christmas,” he said, pulling me close.

“Merry Christmas,” I whispered back.

“Are you okay? Happy?” he asked.

And for the first time in years, I truly was.

Epilogue

Lucas

One year later

The cabin waswarm and quiet when I opened my eyes, the kind of stillness that only comes after a night of laughter and chaos. The bed was empty beside me, though, and I could already smell cookies baking—Holly’s cookies, the ones he’d learned to make from scratch a few months ago. My heart did that stupid little flip it always did when I thought about how far he’d come—how far we’d come together. He was my forever, and one day, when I thought he was ready, I’d ask him to marry me.

I had no doubts he’d say yes, but I wanted it to be perfect.

One year ago, he’d been teetering on the edge, and now he was settled, happy. He was still talking with a therapist, but he also worked part-time with Kai at Diamonds, helped with the hockey programs, mentored kids, and spent the rest of his time pursuing a counseling degree online. He said his life wasn’t just good—it was full, and he was happy.

And best of all, he’d chosen to stay in Wishing Tree with me.

We’d bought the cabin from Bertram Norstrum Junior and turned it into something that was ours. We’d added two big rooms on the ground floor—one was an office, the other a properbedroom big enough to hold my ridiculously massive bed we’d somehow hauled up here.

Today, the snow outside was the perfect Christmas-card white, not enough to trap us in, but enough that we could use it as an excuse to stay here for today if he needed to. He didn’t have panic attacks as often now, but he knew they’d never entirely leave him, even as he worked hard on his mental health. The space we’d created here was his sanctuary, and I was grateful every day that we had it.

I padded downstairs, barefoot and still half-asleep, and there he was. The tree was lit, twinkling in the corner, the stove was glowing, and Holly stood at the counter, a plate of cookies and two steaming mugs of coffee waiting. His hair was messy, and he vibrated with that quiet energy, meaning he was both happy and nervous. The second he saw me, he grinned and swept me into a hug so tight it knocked the breath out of me. He smelled of fresh air.

“You’ve fed the chickadees, then?”

“Yep.”

“Did you go out dressed in just your Christmas PJs?”

“Yep.”

“Idiot.”

“I was fast; the birds were grateful.” Then his lips brushed my temple. “Morning.”

“Morning,” I mumbled, pressing my face into his shoulder. “Why are you this awake?”

“Cookies,” he replied, pulling back just enough to nudge me toward the table. “Eat.”

We settled on the couch with the coffee and cookies, the soft crackling of the wood in the stove filling the space. The presents were piled under the tree, a mix of practical things and ridiculous gag gifts we’d grabbed for each other.

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