Page 36 of The Mistletoe Bluff
“What are you doing?” I muttered into his coat, ignoring the fact that I was hugging him back.
“Holding you.”
“Why?”
Oliver’s chest heaved under my face, and I wasn’t sure if he was laughing or sighing.
“I’m trying to comfort you.”
Though the words were spoken in English, they sounded like gibberish, and I had a difficult time comprehending them. Outside of Elsie or Emma, I couldn’t recall the last time someone had just held me when I was upset. Guys tended to run the other way, not pull me closer.
Snowflakes fell in lazy circles around us as minutes passed, and Oliver didn’t let go. We were the only two at the tree farm aside from tired-looking teenager nursing a coffee in the red shed across the parking lot. Clearly, everyone else had the sense to stay in bed. Or at least at home.
Oliver’s heat seeped into me, warming me despite the winter day. His nose pressed into my hair for a moment before he shifted his weight.
“Maya…please tell me why you don’t celebrate Christmas.”
I squeezed my eyes shut, wishing that I could disappear. I hated talking about this, about anything to do with my family. People always looked at me like something was wrong with me for my parents to have abandoned me, or worse, like I was broken and needed their pity.
I pulled out of Oliver’s arms, but he gripped my shoulders, not letting me escape far. He brushed my hair behind one ear. His blue eyes held none of what I feared—there was no pity or a look that told me he thought I was damaged, just a genuine desire to know why I hated Christmas.
“I won’t force you to tell me, Maya, but…I want to understand. Christmas is such a special time of year. I want to know why it’s not for you.”
A shaky breath shuddered out of me. As much as I didn’t want to open up to my archnemesis, I had held all of it in for so long that it was like water bursting through a cracked dam. I couldn’t hold back the flood of words.
“My dad abandoned us when I was a kid. One night he was there, tucking me into bed, and when I woke up the next morning, he was gone.” I lowered my gaze to Oliver’s chest, unable to look him in the eye.
“My mom told me that he didn’t love us enough to stay. After that…” I paused before sighing, not wanting to share the entire sob story in the middle of a tree farm. “Let’s just say my mom wasn’t around much afterward, leaving me to celebrate holidays on my own…at least until my cousins started inviting me to spend it with them a few years ago.”
I dared a glance at Oliver, terrified that he would let go of his grip on me and turn his back, deciding I was too much to deal with.
Oliver’s glove trailed across my cheek, and he was quiet for another moment. “I’m sorry, Maya.”
I sniffled. Oliver pulled me back into him, his gloved hands sliding around my back. “You deserve more.”
Though I hadn’t shared the full story of how my mom became a workaholic after my dad left, of how she cared more about her career than me, my body loosened after speaking the words aloud. Why had I waited so long to tell someone? I had carried a weight the size of Texas on my shoulders for years, made even heavier by shame and anxiety, but in just a few words, that weight, that ache, had lifted.
I could breathe again.
Oliver’s hand brushed the hair from my face, settling on my neck. He took a deep breath.
“In all the pain, I think you’ve forgotten something special about Christmas though. It’s not about the people thataren’tthere but the people thatare. You have many people who love and care about you. Celebrate withtheminstead and forget about all the things you’ve lost. Make new memories. Enjoy this time of yearin spiteof whatever pain is associated with the holiday. If you focus on the pain, that’s all you’ll ever feel, but if you focus on the joy, the pain will ease, and you’ll find the happiness you’ve been waiting for.”
He removed his gloves and trailed his fingers down my cheek. “I want to help you find that spark of joy again.”
My stomach awoke with butterflies, so powerful they threatened to burst through my skin. A single word slipped through my lips.
“Why?”
I didn’t understand why Oliver Lewis, my real-life villain, wanted to help me find my happy.
Oliver’s throat bobbed as he swallowed, his blue eyes wide behind his glasses. “Because—”
“Howdy, folks!” a man’s voice called across the parking lot. A ridiculously tall man strode toward us, his shoulders so broad that I wondered how he even fit through doorways.
Oliver and I pulled apart. Regret swirled in his eyes over not saying whatever he’d been about to say.
The man stopped in front of us and stuck his hand out. “The name’s Leaf. I own this here tree farm! Do you two need any help picking one out?”
