Page 8 of A Christmas For Holly

‘Paul Hollister: Where Did It All Go Wrong?’

‘Captain No More: Paul Hollister Enters Player Assistance Program Amidst Career Collapse.’

‘Hollister’s Glory Days Were Long Over – What’s Next for the Failing Star?’

‘Hollister on the Outs: The Harriers Prepare for Life Without Their Failing Leader.’

The words blurred together, my eyes struggling to focus as I scrolled through the endless garbage stream. It felt as if they were ripping my life apart piece by piece, and the worst part was they weren’t wrong. Everything they said, everything they hinted at—it was all true.

Ihadfailed.

The Harriers were my team, and I’d failed them.

I could barely breathe, the room spinning as the panic I’d been holding back threatened to consume me, but the beeping of my security lock at the gate cut through the chaos. Who was letting themselves in? Oscar had the code, and a couple of my ex-girlfriends. I scrambled to stand, ready to tell everyone to leave me the fuck alone, yanking open the door and seeing it wasn’t my agent or any of my exes.

Kai was there. He looked ragged, an SUV behind him with Bailey in the passenger seat. Had they come all the way here from their tiny Christmas town? To do what?

“You don’t know my code,” I said as if that was the important thing here.

He raised an eyebrow. “5959. Same as your locker code. Your jersey number. Twice.”

“Shit.”

He’d always been the one person I could count on, no matter what, the only one who I let see my mental health for what it was—fragile and broken. Even now, when I felt as though the world was crumbling around me, he was right here. I blinked. Nothing made sense, and an awful dread crept inside, and when he stepped close and held out his arms, I fell into his hold.

“It’s okay, Hols, I’m here.”

I didn’t say anything; I didn’t need to. Kai knew. Healwaysknew.

Chapter 4

Lucas

November

WishingTree always came alive in the winter—a holiday postcard brought to life. It was easy to see why people came from all over. Christmas in this town was something from a dream, the kind of thing that made you believe in magic, even if only for a little while. I breathed in the cold air as I walked down the snow-dusted sidewalk, a box of Bailey’s latest creations tucked under my arm, and ended up at The Story Lantern, the familiar chime of the bell above the door greeting me like an old friend. The store’s warmth washed over me, a stark contrast to the chilly November air outside.

The place smelled like old books and coffee, the perfect blend of nostalgia and comfort, and as a self-proclaimed bibliophile, I was never happier than when I left with an armful of books. Sometimes, it was a new book, sometimes from the massive stock of second-hand novels the owner, Wesley Darkwood, curated. Either way, I never ran out of things to read. The store was already dressed in its Thanksgiving best, with garlands and twinkling lights strung along the shelves and a large wreath hanging above the fireplace in the reading nook. Christmas wasthe next step, and I knew that fall colors would give way to sparkles almost overnight.

As usual, Wesley was organizing a few new arrivals on the display behind the counter. When I approached, he glanced up, and a welcoming smile spread across his handsome face. With his dark hair, eyes, and cute pirate-type beard, he should have been someone I was attracted to.

But nope. My stupid head wasn’t invested in anyone remotely interested in me.

“Lu! Just in time,” Wesley said, wiping his hands on a cloth before reaching out to take the box from me. “Bailey’s new decorations, I presume?”

I nodded, handing over the box. “Yep. He would’ve brought them, but Kai has the flu, and Bailey’s in nurse mode. Left me with strict instructions on how to arrange them in the window, though.”

Wesley frowned. “Send them my best.”

“I’ll text him,” I chuckled. “I’m staying well away.”

Wesley opened the box to peek inside and pulled out a wire angel decorated with polished stone. “Wow. These are going to look fantastic,” he said.

I smiled, watching as Wesley unpacked a few of the ornaments with care. My little brother had outdone himself this year—each piece was handcrafted with the kind of detail that made anyone want to stop and stare, little works of art capturing the magic of Christmas. I couldn’t be prouder.

“How have you been?” Wesley asked—same as he always did since our one date had turned into me melting down about my love life and him melting down about his family and having so much debt he didn’t know where to turn.

We’d been friends ever since he’d arrived in town a year back, but sometimes he asked questions I didn’t want to answer.

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