Page 13 of A Christmas For Holly

I looked at the cabin again, trying to ground myself in the here and now. Whether I liked it or not, this was home for the next few months. Like Doc Susan said, in her best therapist tone, I needed to let go of the past, stop dwelling on what I couldn’t change, and figure out who I was outside of hockey and the person I used to be.

I needed to control the monster that stole my breath.

But first, I needed to get out of this damn car.

The inch or so of snow crunched under my boots as I made my way to the cabin, the silence of the surrounding woods wrapping around me like a blanket. It was peaceful here, precisely what I’d wanted. But as I stared at the cabin that would be my home for as long as I needed it to be, all I could feel was the weight of everything I’d left behind.

One day at a time, Paul. One day at a time.

I opened the door and stepped inside, the cabin’s warmth welcoming me like an old friend. I closed the door behind me, leaning against it momentarily, letting the quiet wrap around me as I dropped my luggage and duffle near the entrance.

The cabin was as cozy as the pictures showed, maybe even more so. Its A-frame structure gave it a sense of intimacy, like a cocoon of wood and warmth tucked away in the middle of nowhere.

The open floor plan was simple but welcoming. It featured a small living area centered around a stone fireplace, a kitchen with space where cupboards would be, a small snow-covered patio sans hot tub, and I could see the ladder to a loft, so the bedroom was that way. There was a bathroom down here, with a bath, shower, and a toilet, all pristine and new. The walls were paneled in dark wood, giving the place a rustic charm that would’ve been perfect if I could feel anything close to peace.

I made my way into the kitchen, opening the fridge to find it packed. The freezer was full, stocked with all the food orderedin advance. Oscar suggested meals I wouldn’t have to think too hard about preparing. I wasn’t planning on staying the entire three months, but he was adamant I looked after myself and had what I needed in case my week or so here turned into more.

Leaving my suitcase at the door, my duffle next to it, I explored my new home, climbing the narrow ladder stairs to the loft, each step heavier than the last. The bedroom was simple: nightstands stood sentinel on each side of a massive bed with soft and inviting white covers, two closets, and a small half-bath. One window overlooked snow-dusted trees, the branches swaying gently in the wind; the other gave a view of the front yard and my ridiculous Lamborghini parked as a beacon of sapphire stupidity.

The drapes were thick enough to block out the sunlight during the day.

That’s good.

I can’t bear the reminder that the world outside is still turning, still moving forward while I’m stuck in my head. How can everything go on? How could everyone else keep living their lives while I’m just… frozen?

Fuck. Where had that come from?

I sat on the edge of the bed as a familiar unwanted anxiety began to creep up on me. Fucking shit was always there, lurking just beneath the surface, waiting for the perfect moment to take over. I loathed how it ran my life, made every decision and thought a battle I had to fight.

I’m supposed to be done with this.

I couldn’t stop it; it was overpowering, consuming whatever calm I’d managed to cling to.

I laid on the bed, and then the monster had me curling into a ball, pulling my knees to my chest as thoughts started to spiral, intrusive and unrelenting. Kai didn’t know I’d booked this cabin, but what if Lucas told Kai I was here, and Kai said I was toomuch work and trouble? What if Kai thought I was a lost cause? After he’d helped me into Phoenix with the NHLPA, I’d refused to speak to him, cutting him off because I couldn’t face how he’d had to rescue me. Then, I’d left it too long to apologize for not calling, and everything became awkward. Now, I’d dumped myself right in his town and life. What the hell was I thinking?

I grabbed my phone, but it did not connect until I headed downstairs and walked around outside in the snow. Then, I thumbed to Kai’s name to send a message.

HOLLY: I’m in town. Can we meet?

I backspaced.

HOLLY: I’m in town if you want to meet. No pressure.

I backspaced again.

HOLLY: I’m in town, but it’s okay if you don’t want to see me.

I sent it before I could second guess, stared at the phone, and waited for a reply. The single bar had vanished, and I sighed. Had my message even been sent? I’d refused to talk to Kai these last few months and didn’t want him to visit me at the center, but he understood why. He didn’t hate me. We emailed.

I was being stupid.

We were okay.

Tears burned, and my chest tightened until it felt like I couldn’t breathe. The panic was choking me, drowning me in a sea of self-doubt and regret. I headed straight back up to the bed, laying there in silence, but the panic didn’t ease. I rolled to one side and pulled out the medication from my pocket. I triedto poke them from the blister pack, spilling a few pills onto the floor before I managed to get one into my mouth.

Lorazepam.The little pill was supposed to take the edge off, to make everything softer, quieter. I tried to swallow it dry, but it stuck, choking me, and I went straight into the tiny half-bath and scooped water from the tap, then stumbled back to the bed, closing my eyes as I waited for the familiar wave of calm to kick in. It didn’t work right away—these things never did. But eventually, the tightness in my chest began to ease, the jagged edges of my thoughts smoothing out into something more manageable.

I stumbled downstairs, the cold seeping into my bones. Why was it so cold? I needed to get some heat in the cabin. I pulled over the instructions in the folder next to the stove, then crouched down, shoving in some paper and kindling and then a log, flicking the lighter repeatedly, but nothing happened. The damn thing refused to catch. I tossed in more kindling, wedging it between the logs as if I knew what I was doing—still nothing. I pulled out my phone, figuring Google would have the answer. But of course—no signal.

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