Page 75 of Holly Ever After

After a long, heavy pause, she finally nods. “Alright. I'll cooperate with the doctors, go through their tests.”

Just as I'm feeling the weight of the silence settle in, the door creaks open and Sean walks in. He stops at the threshold, his eyes locking onto mine as he stands there. The world seems to pause, a still frame capturing the tangled web of emotions between us. The twinge in my chest breaks the spell, and I drop my gaze.

Oblivious to the undercurrents of tension, Brenda's voice cuts through. “Ah, there you are, son. Look who's here. Holly came to visit. Isn't she beautiful?”

His eyes land on me again, holding my gaze as he answers, “She is, Ma. She really is.”

Brenda continues, unaware. “So, are you just here for the summer, Holly?”

“It’s Christmas,” he tells her, going to her side to fix her pillows.

Her eyes widen. “It is? Oh, Sean, there’s so much I need to get.”

“Don’t worry about it.” He leans down to kiss her forehead. “Whatever you need just tell me and I’ll sort it.”

She holds the side of his face, affection in her eyes before she turns back to me. “Just home for the holidays then?”

“Actually, I'm here to stay,” I say, trying to ease the tension with some news. “I bought a cottage here in town. Sean helped renovate it.”

Her eyes widen. “You two were in close quarters and didn't kill each other?”

No, what we did was far worse than murder. We complicated everything.

Before I can respond, a doctor steps into the room, clipboard in hand. “Mrs. Colson, it’s time for your MRI.”

I stand, leaning down to kiss Brenda's cheek. “I'll be back to visit soon.”

Sean tenses beside me, his body rigid as he braces for his mother's usual defiance. But instead of fighting the doctor off, she simply winks at me.

As I move past Sean to leave the room, he finally breaks his silence. “What did you say to her? She's usually screaming bloody murder when the doctors come in.”

Shaking my head, I try to muster a smile but fail miserably. “Nothing. We just talked.”

He looks pained, his dark brown hair disheveled in a way that, against all odds, doesn't make him look a mess. It's endearing, really, and I'm disarmed by how much I care, by how much I recognize this agony in my chest as something so much more than the aftermath of casual sex, and how much I refuse to acknowledge it right now because when I do, I’m going to break. His eyes, tired and a shade darker than I remember, seem to carry the weight of a thousand unsaid words between us.

For the first time ever, ignoring the rational part of my brain, I just want to give him a hug. So I step into his space, granting myself this fleeting moment of comfort. I wrap my arms around him, my face pressed against the soft fabric of his shirt.

He only stills for a split second, shocked by the sudden intimacy. Then his hands find my lower back, pulling me closer, breathing me in like a man starved of air.

“Take care of her,” I whisper, my words muffled against him but piercing in their sincerity. “If she needs anything, you know where to find me.”

Reluctantly, I pull away, meeting his eyes just briefly, a mosaic of emotions neither of us is willing to decipher at this moment.

“See you around.” I turn to leave, my feet carrying me away, but my thoughts are anchored in that room, in that moment, with him.

And then a part of my heart shatters when I hear him reply, “See you around, Squirt.”

Thirty

Sean

Iwatch her leave, my chest tight, my hands clenched into fists at my side. That hug—unexpected and heartbreakingly brief—felt like a sip of water to a man dying of thirst. I don't know why she did it, but the fact that she reached out to me is enough to have my mind racing.

“Holly's such a sweet girl,” Ma says from the hospital bed, her voice pulling me back into the room. I look at her, noticing the frailty she tries so hard to hide. “You always liked her, didn't you?”

I walk over to sit in the chair Holly just vacated, still warm from her presence. “I did, Ma,” I admit quietly. “I still do.”

She smiles at me, eyes bright yet clouded with a layer of tiredness that scares me. “Then why'd you let her walk away? Life's too short.”

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