Page 5 of A Christmas For Holly

I didn’t hesitate, wrapping my arms around him as if he were the only solid thing in a world that wouldn’t stop spinning. His embrace was warm and steady, his hand resting on my back. For a moment, I let myself believe everything might be okay, just fora moment. Then he pulled back, his hands steadying me as he met my eyes.

“Time to go, Holly,” he murmured.

I didn’t know what possessed me to look at him then. But he was there, close, his gaze fixed on me with an intensity that was part concern, part… something else I couldn’t read. He was exhausted but happy. His blond hair had come loose from whatever he’d tied it back with, falling around his face in a messy, careless way that softened his expression. Beautiful. And those eyes… There was a dusting of freckles across his nose, light but there if you looked close. And his lips…

I blinked, realizing I was staring. But I couldn’t seem to stop.

Why was I staring at his lips? Why did he have to be so close, so damn kissable? That word alone startled me, sending a thrill through my body that I couldn’t ignore. And before I knew it, we were kissing.

It was fierce, almost desperate, and my hands were on his face, cradling him, anchoring myself to him. And for a second—a heartbeat—he didn’t pull back, and I almost fooled myself that he’d initiated the kiss. His lips were warm, softer than I’d imagined, and the world went still, leaving only the feeling of me pressing him against the counter and him…

…pushing me away.

He struggled from under me, stunned, his eyes wide as he stared at me in horror.

“What the fuck, Paul?” he asked, using my real name as if this were serious.

“I didn’t mean to?” I lied.

He shoved me a little. “You kissed me.”

My heart pounded, and reality hit like a punch to the gut. What had I done?

I stumbled. The warmth of the shop was suffocating, and the quiet became too loud.

“I’m not… I wouldn’t force you…” I accused.

His eyes widened. “What?”

I sobered up so fast that my monster roared in pain. “If you tell anyone I forced you, I’ll ruin you!” I snarled, hurting and hateful.

Even as the words left my lips, regret burned into my gut, making me sick. I was talking nonsense, but the words were out of my mouth before I knew what I was saying. I was a mess of frustration and anger, and something darker and uglier was twisting inside me.

Lucas’s expression underwent a rapid, painful shift. The confusion in his eyes drained away, replaced first with shock and then with something sharper as all the compassion and understanding vanished. In that second, I felt colder than I had in months, as if someone had thrown me into an icy river, leaving me breathless and panicked.

Any apology was caught in my throat, trapped beneath my stupidity. I wanted to reach out, to take back every hurtful thing I’d said, but my hands stayed still, useless at my sides.

Lucas’s jaw clenched, and he shook his head, not in anger but in something more painful, like disappointment. He looked at me one last time, his blue eyes hard.

“Fuck you,” he snapped, then turned his back on me, leaving me drowning in the silence.

I fumbled for the door, wrenching it open and stumbling into the cold night. The snow bit at my skin, and my hands shook.

I think I heard him calling me back, but there was a bright pink car under a taxi sign, and the driver took me back to the hotel I’d booked for the team several towns over.

The monster hadn’t taken long to get hold of me again.

Only this time, it carried an added weight of shame and regret I could never hope to lose.

Chapter 3

Holly

May

The monster won.

The Harriers GM, a new guy who I didn’t even know well, had assured me they’d have my back in what he termed my mental health journey. Then, in the same speech, he’d given me three options. The team could put me on waivers. Offer me in a trade—for what that was worth. Or I could retire.

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