Page 82 of Holly Ever After

“It's not just you,” I admit, my fingers touching my swollen lips, the heat of the kiss still lingering.

His eyes follow the movement of my fingers before he looks away, his hand rubbing at the back of his neck. “I know. I'm sorry,” he says again, the words sounding like a broken record.

I want to tell him it's okay, that we can forget about it and move on like nothing happened. But the reality is, we can't.

“I should go.” The words feel like a punch to the gut.

He nods, not looking at me. “Yeah. You should.”

I get up from the bed, my legs feeling like jelly. I want to say something, to make this situation less awkward, but my mind is blank.

I've been such an idiot. A couple of days with him, and I've allowed him to get under my skin. He wasn't even gentle about it. He clawed his way in and made his mark.

I leave, wishing he would call me back. Wishing he would say something, anything.

But he doesn't.

Thirty-Three

Just over a week to Christmas and I’m sitting at my parent’s table trying not to choke on my mash potato while simultaneously holding myself back from stabbing my brother with a fork.

He glares at me from where he sits. Rachel obviously knows what’s going on. Why wouldn’t she? She’s his wife. But her gaze is ping ponging between me and Mark like she’s preparing for a war to break out.

He’s judging me. My brother. I’m three seconds away from reminding him of how much of a whore he was in college, but I won’t do that to Rachel.

My parents appear oblivious to our staring contest, arguing back and forth about the strategy for the Christmas games.

Rachel leans forward. “Will you two stop it? This is ridiculous. You’re siblings. It’s Christmas. And Mark,” she whispers, turning to him. “Holly is a grown woman. She can do whatever…” Rachel winks at me. “Or whomever she wants.”

My face flushes a furious red, a mix of anger and embarrassment.

“And Holly,” she continues. “You have to understand, your brother is hurt. It was a shock…to all of us.”

I shrink back in my chair, feeling like a child getting in trouble for coloring on the walls.

“Anyone for dessert?” My mother speaks up, still completely unaware.

I never thought I would say this but thank God for the Christmas games. They always keep her distracted.

“I’ll get it.” I willingly volunteer, maybe a little too enthusiastically because she’s eyeing me like I’m ill.

“I’ll help,” Mark says, getting to his feet with a fake ass smile.

“Lovely,” Mom mumbles, confused. “Trifle is in the fridge.”

I’m two steps into the kitchen when I feel Mark hot on my heels. I spin around, my frustration finally bubbling to the surface. He’s always been like this. I get it. He’s my big brother, he sees it as his job to look out for me, but in this instance, I don’t need him to. Rachel was right. I’m an adult.

“What?” I hiss.

His face is flushed now too, his hands clenching at his sides. “My best friend. Really? What happened to you hating each other?”

“We do hate each other,” I fight back, but my voice fails to carry the heat it once used to when I uttered those words.

I don’t hate Sean. Not anymore. Truth is my heart is breaking. The sharp shards have broken away and are clawing at my flesh. This hurts, and I hate that it does.

“Really?” He leans back against the counter, those judgy eyes of his never leaving mine. “Didn’t look that way when I walked in on you in bed together. What’s next? You going to tell me it was just a hug?”

I pull him further into the kitchen, checking that no one heard. “Will you hush?”

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