Page 61 of Going All In

“And I wonder if you might consider talking to someone. About everything with your mom and what happened at the funeral. There’s a lot to process there, and while I’m here for you, some of this you have to work through on your own. It’s real trauma, Holly. It’s not something you just muscle your way through.”

I stop there and wait. Some people get defensive when you lay it all out there, but Holly just looks deep in thought.

“I… I think you’re right,” she says softly, still focused on her lap. “I didn’t think of it that way. All these kids I see daily have so much more going on in their lives that my problems seemed trivial in comparison, so I never thought about talking to a therapist or anything. Plus, I was busy taking care of my dad right after Mom died, and I pushed all my own feelings about everything away.” She brings her gaze up to meet mine. “I’m going to find a therapist to talk to about everything after the holidays. But I’m so sorry I ruined everything, Maddox.”

I put two fingers under her chin, keeping her gaze focused on me. “You didn’t ruin things, Holly. I’m not going anywhere.” I bring my lips to hers. I can taste the salt of her tears mixing with that signature sweet taste of her that I’ve come to love, and I say it again to make sure she hears me. “I’m not going anywhere. Now, grab your coat.”

Holly pulls back from where our lips are still practically touching. “My coat?” Her eyes are dazed. A good emotional catharsis and making out will do that to you.

I nudge her off the couch. “The thing you wear when it’s cold outside.”

She gives my shoulder a playful shove as she picks up the jacket from where she dropped it in the entryway. I pull my own coat on and take her hand, leading her out of the apartment and into the cold air.

* * *

Holly shivers beneath the winter chill as we approach Rittenhouse Square Park.

The park is one of several in Philadelphia. This one sits close to the border between Center City—the main downtown—and University City, where I live and where several colleges are located. It’s considered an upscale part of town, with its overpriced townhomes and luxury stores lining Walnut Street.

During the holiday season, the city hangs globes lined with twinkling lights from the lampposts and trees. They look like Christmas ornaments, and in the snow, it gives the darkened park a magical feeling. There’s nothing quite like it.

“I forgot how beautiful it is here at Christmas,” Holly breathes. She shivers again.

I pull off my coat and wrap it around her. I’m freezing my nuts off, and she looks like a snowman encased on both our jackets, but if she’s warm, it’s worth it. Plus, isn’t this the scene from every Hallmark Christmas movie?

Holly smiles at me as she pulls the fleece tighter around her.

She’s right. Itismagic. The snow falling in mini, silent flakes. The peaceful feeling of the park when it’s nearly empty. The twinkling lights. The Christmas tree in the very center of the walkway, lit up with what must be a million tiny lightbulbs.

It’s romantic and magical and beautiful all at once. I tip my head back and stick my tongue out, catching a few flakes.

“Are you catching snowflakes on your tongue?” Holly asks, looking at me like I’m crazy.

“Yep,” I say, sticking my tongue out again. “Try it.”

Holly walks a few steps ahead of me, and I think she’s going to ignore me. But when I look up, she’s got her hands stretched out wide, her face turned up to the sky and her tongue out.

She’s catching snowflakes, too.

She has a look of pure, innocent joy on her face, one I rarely see on adults. My breath catches in my throat. I want to remember this moment forever. I want to see her doing this with our kids one day.

“Maddox!” she calls, beckoning to me. “Come here!”

She holds out both of her hands to me. When I get close enough, she grabs both hands and twirls, spinning me in a circle right along with her.

When she stops, she collapses against me in dizzy giggles. I wrap my arms around her.

“Thank you,” she says softly, tilting her head up toward me.

I tap her nose with my finger. It’s pink with cold. I smile down at her. “Any time, babe.”

She shakes her head just a bit. “I used to love Christmas. My mom went all out and always made it so special, even though it was just the three of us. She made it this big celebration, my birthday and Christmas all in one big day, and everything was so magical. Since she died, I haven’t been able to enjoy the holidays. I haven’t even really celebrated at all, because it reminded me of her, and it was just too much for me. But it was like the magic of Christmas died along with her.”

She takes a deep breath. The unshed tears glisten in her eyes, reflecting the lights that hang everywhere. She blinks, and one traces a path down her cheek.

“Thank you for showing me the magic again.”

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