Page 33 of A Christmas For Holly

Snow was promised in the cold prickling at the edges of my senses, and every sound was muffled as if the world were already preparing for the hush that would follow the first flakes.

Snow was coming, and I had a few miles until home. The bird stuff in my backpack wasn’t heavy, but add the books I was carrying in paper bags, and I regretted walking.

Were there cabs in Wishing Tree? I quickly searched for cabs, but the only thing that turned up was a company run by Jeremiah Owens, which had a picture of a bright pink jeep on thefront. There were promised shuttles to the ski lodges, but they didn’t start until the day after Thanksgiving.

“Great timing, idiot,” I muttered to no one.

I should walk back to the cabin. The snow would be easy to beat, although the clouds were so dense that they swallowed the last traces of daylight.

I balanced the book bags in each hand and started walking, but my determination waned when my breathing hitched. I stopped behind the oak tree, focusing on the ribbons, the scent of the air, the muffled sounds of people hurrying home, the taste of ice on my tongue, and the touch of a snowflake on my nose. When my breathing became labored, I dry-swallowed my meds, and after the longest time of hiding, I started the walk home.

As I began the uphill climb, the snow was light flakes drifting down lazily, almost peacefully, and my friendly chickadee followed me briefly, then vanished as the snow grew heavier. I pulled my jacket tighter around me, feeling I shouldn’t have set out with so much confidence as I trudged forward. I could handle this. I’d been through worse.

But the further I went, the heavier the snow became. It came down in thick sheets, swirling in the air like a blanket of white, making it harder to see. The wind picked up, biting at the narrow bit of my face not concealed by the scarf, and suddenly, the path in front of me was nothing but a blur of white and shadows. The road beneath my feet had gone from slightly slippery to treacherous in minutes, and each step felt as though it could send me sprawling.

I cursed under my breath, frustration building as I realized this might have been a mistake. The visibility had dropped to almost nothing, and the cabin still felt a world away. But it was too late to turn back. I saw a sign I recognized for the ski resort, and I was sure my cabin was just a short distance past it. Turning around would mean walking longer in the falling snow.

The cold seeped into my bones, making my fingers and toes tingle. The books weighed heavy in my arms, weakening my grip as the snow piled up around me. My frustration turned into something more raw, a dull sense of panic, as I realized the storm wasn’t slowing down.

As I tried to pick up the pace, my foot tripped on a fallen branch beneath the snow. I went down hard, my arm scraping against something sharp—a rock or a branch, I couldn’t tell through the snow. Pain shot through me, not severe but enough to remind me just how much trouble I was in. I gritted my teeth and sat up, anger and self-pity flooding me.

The books were still in my grip, clutched to my chest. Letting them go wasn’t an option, although they were part of why I’d lost my balance. Stupid. But I couldn’t bring myself to leave them behind for some reason. I was dizzy, and I stopped for a moment to breathe. I should have eaten something. I was hungry.

I’m dizzy.

I can’t breathe.

Breathe!

I glanced up at the sky, thick with falling snow, and realized how ridiculous this was. I wouldn’t make it to the cabin, not with the storm. I looked around for shelter, making out a nearby tree with thick branches overhead, offering at least a little protection from the elements. I stood beneath it, intending to wait out the storm or at least wait until it eased up enough for me to see more than a few feet ahead. I was wrapped so that it wouldn’t bethatbad. The wind howled through the branches, and the cold gnawed at me, but I held on to the books, not letting them go.

You’ll be fine,I told myself, trying to ignore the throbbing in my arm and the creeping numbness in my fingers.Just a little longer, and then you’ll finish this. Just wait it out.

But as the snow kept falling, part of me wondered if I was being stubborn again—too proud to admit I’d gotten myselfinto a mess and too stupid to stand under a freaking tree in a snowstorm.

So, shoulders back, I carried on trudging up the hill.

Chapter 14

Lucas

My phone buzzedin my pocket, pulling me from my thoughts about Holly. It was Bailey in the group chat, and seeing his name made me smile.

BAILEY: Help! More Tylenol and other flu-type things. Please.

Before anyone else could offer, I jumped in.

LUCAS: On it

I headed out the door, hoping to glimpse Holly’s car on the way to the pharmacy. I figured if I spotted him, I could flag him down, and I don’t know… not apologize for being shit, but maybe to ask him what the hell was going on with him. But in the time it took to buy the meds and head out to Bailey and Kai’s, there was no sign of the man.

Probably for the best.

Bailey opened the door a crack. His blond curls were bedraggled, sticking to his forehead with sweat.

“Hey, little brother. You look even more shit than how shit you looked yesterday.”

“Gah,” he mumbled, barely keeping his eyes open, grabbing the pharmacy bag. “Bed,” he added with a groan.

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