Page 60 of Grump Hard
“Come on,” I say, turning back toward town, moving fast. “I’ll help you look, and we’ll see how many people we can add to the search party on the way to the logging trail. We’ll find him.”
As we hurry down the street, practically jogging, I take a more critical look at the sky. The clouds are dark and thick. This isn’t just a flurry. It looks like the winter storm that was supposed to hold off until midnight has arrived early.
Probably too early for it to be safe for Willow and me to be out looking for too long…
I push the worry down and focus on the bright side. We have nearly an hour before sunset, and there were still tons of locals out and about when I left town. We’ll find people to help, blanket the town in a Cheeks-loving search party, and be at the pub celebrating over hot toddies with a chipmunk in someone’s pocket by dinner time.
Bright side, bright side, I silently chant, hoping this won’t be one of those times my optimism gets me into trouble.
Seventeen
Luke
The pub is warm and loud, filled with laughter and the cheerful chaos of people celebrating the night before Christmas Eve.
I sit alone in the corner booth, nursing a non-alcoholic cider that’s gone warm in my hands, watching the revelry with a rising sense of determination. An hour ago, I walked in here cold and confused, my conversation with Holly tumbling around and around in my head.
Now, everything is clear.
Crystal clear, in a way nothing has been in years.
Holly was right about everything. The darkness I see everywhere isn’t the truth—it’s my truth, but only because that’s the filter I’ve been using to view the world. A filter built from my father’s cruelty, childhood pain, and my own desperate need to protect myself from being hurt again.
But here’s what I finally understand…
That filter doesn’t keep me safe. It keeps me isolated. Alone. Cut off from the things that make life worth living.
From things like connection, joy, and love.
Holly sees the darkness too; she simply refuses to let it win. She fights back with kindness, with silliness, with jokes, and with relentless optimism that I mistook for naivety when it’s actually the bravest thing I’ve ever seen.
And I want to be part of her fight.
I want to stand beside her, to protect her light instead of trying to extinguish it with my cynicism. I want to be the man who makes her life easier, not harder. The man who adds to her joy instead of draining it away.
I don’t know if she’ll give me another chance. I may have burned that bridge beyond repair, but I have to try.
Because I’m in love with her.
I am. I feel the truth of it, stronger than any logical voice in my head insisting it’s too soon to have formed a lasting attachment.
I am deeply, remarkably in love.
But if there’s another man—if I read that moment at the inn correctly—then I’ll find a way to accept it. I’ll step back and let her be happy, even if it kills me. But I won’t give up without fighting for her first.
I have to show her that I can change, that I am changing, and that all I want is to be worthy of her trust.
Her heart.
I set down my glass and stand, pulling on my coat with decisive movements. It’s time to find her, to tell her everything I should have said this afternoon instead of spiraling into fear and confusion.
As I push through the pub doors, the cold wind hits like a prize-fighter aiming for vital organs. I gasp, shocked to find that I actually have to lean into it to keep from being forced backward.
The snow is falling heavily now, thick flakes that blur the lights strung across the square and muffle the sounds of the town.
This storm is worse than the forecast predicted.
Much worse and arriving earlier than expected.
