Page 29 of A Christmas For Holly

“Need to keep checking you’re alive.”

“I have to go out to the road to check them.”

“Gets you out of the cabin,” he nodded.

The awkwardness settled in, thick and heavy, like the piling snow outside, and for a moment, neither of us said anything. I could feel Wesley’s gaze flicking between us, probably wondering what was happening.

This was the last thing I needed—another encounter with Lucas, another reminder of everything I’d been avoiding. But here we were, face-to-face, with no easy way out. And suddenly, the books in front of me didn’t seem like such a great escape after all.

Lucas placed a box on the counter, talking to Wesley and ignoring me. “Duncan said you sold out of the decorations and needed more,” he announced.

“Thanks, Lu,” Pirate-Wesley grinned at Lucas, who smiled back so wide that my heart flipped.

Lu? Pirate-Wesley got to call Lucas Lu? Not only that, but Lucas smiled back, and his eyes crinkled, and there was a dimple, and fuck… he was so perfect when he smiled, and I wanted to see more. Were Lucas and Pirate-Wesley flirting now? Were they a thing? Why did it even matter? It wasn’t like I was jealous or anything.

“Coffee!” I exclaimed as Lucas turned to leave. I knew that Pirate-Wesley was staring at me, Lucas, then back at me. “Lucas, please, will you get a coffee with me so I can say thank you?”

“I’ll be at BB’s in thirty or so,” he said.

And left.

Well, that wasn’t a yes, but it was an invitation to meet, right?

“BB’s?” I asked, a little lost, as Pirate-Wesley packed my books into two paper bags, and I handed over my card.

“Biscuit in the Basket, you can’t miss it. A diner, all themed after this local hockey player, Kai Buchanan. His dad owns the place, and hockey’s not my sport, but the Kai Pie they made in his name is yum.”

“Okay, thank you.”

I left before Wesley could ask me how I knew Lucas and why I was meeting him for coffee, although I had never agreed to one with him.

Right now, I wish I had an answer.

I found The Biscuit in the Basket Diner easy enough—how could I not, with all the hockey memorabilia cluttering the windows? My stomach twisted as I got closer, and that familiar knot of panic tightened when I saw the photos plastered to the glass. There was Kai, mid-laugh, dressed to skate in his Harriers jersey, and, fuck, there was a picture of us together as well, with the Stanley Cup between us, and I was grinning like an idiot, back when everything felt simpler and when I was a captain who couldactuallylead a team.

My heart pounded. Was this a Harriers fan spot? If there were Harriers fans inside, they’d recognize me for sure. Panic clawed at me. They’d ask me questions and judge me with afamiliar mix of pity and curiosity. But as I stood frozen on the sidewalk, I saw Lucas inside. He watched me, staring as if he half-expected me to turn tail and run.

The thought crossed my mind. It would’ve been easy to keep walking. But something—maybe pride, maybe sheer stupidity—made me summon whatever courage I had left. Before I could talk myself out of it, I headed in, my feet carrying me straight to his table. I slumped into the seat opposite him, feeling like I’d run a marathon.

The entire diner was decked out in Harriers blue, with the team’s golden bird logo plastered everywhere on the walls, the menu boards, and the damn napkin holders. It was like walking into a shrine to the Harriers, to everything I was trying to forget.Focus on that, I told myself. Focus on things I could see and hear. The scent of baking—something sweet, like cinnamon rolls—filled the air. The chatter of people all around hummed like background noise, and surprisingly, no one had stopped talking to stare at me.

I pressed my fingertips against the rough wood of the table, grounding myself. The texture was solid, real, something to anchor me. I started counting down from ten, anything to calm the nerves buzzing in my chest. I fussed with my jacket to hide the counting, steadying myself before I could think about talking to Lucas.

I was instantly lost in his eyes. They were so blue, darker up close, with familiar flecks of navy. His lashes were long, almost unfairly so, framing those eyes in a way that made them more intense. And his lips—plump, kissable, even in the tight line they were forming now.

And god, the freckles over his nose… I could stare at those for days.

The dark blond stubble on his jaw only added to his ruggedness. His messy and wavy hair was short but soft, curlingslightly over his forehead. That disheveled look shouldn’t have worked, but it did—it more than worked. He was beautiful.

But as I stared at him, all I could see was the angles of his face; his narrowed eyes locked on me as though he was worried about every move I made. He was a sharper version of Bailey, all hard lines and no softness, and there was no doubt in my mind he was waiting for me to fuck up again. He probably kept asking me if I was okay so that he could wear me down, and then I’d spit out that I was far from fucking okay.

I cleared my throat to talk, but someone approached our table.

The kid couldn’t have been more than seventeen, his eyes wide as they focused on me. He was wearing aBB’s Dinerapron, a bit too big for him, and his mouth fell open as if he couldn’t believe who he was seeing.

His name badge saidConnor, and I braced myself. Now that he recognized me, I thought he would say something—maybe some awkward sympathy, perhaps the questions I dreaded about how I’d let the Harriers get so bad—but he just blinked at me as if he was processing it all. Then, without a word about who I was or what I’d become, he offered me coffee.

“Coffee, uh… sir?” His voice cracked, and he was trying to play it cool. I could see the reaction to recognizing me in his posture, but he held it together better than I did.

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