Page 14 of Beards and Holly

“Well, speaking of sugar. I made a pie. Jenny’s favorite. I’ll be right back. You two don’t move,” Grandma says, wagging that pointer finger at us. One I know all too well from my childhood.

When she’s gone, Holly takes her hand from my arm, and I feel the absence like a slap in the face. It’s time I make an apology, though it’s not my strong suit.

“Listen, Holly, there’s something I need to clear up.”

She gives me a fake smile, no doubt expecting a half-assed excuse. It makes me want to hunt down every asshole who’s ever treated her poorly and punch them in their motherfucking face.

“Fuck. I’m sorry. I don’t want to give you a stupid excuse, and yet, I’m sitting here not knowing what to say.” I lean forward and run my hands down my face in frustration. An idea comes to mind, but it scares the shit out of me.

Taking a deep breath, I stand up and reach out my hand for her to take. To my surprise, she does, and I lead her upstairs.

My anxiety rocks me, but I push forward. If I can trust anyone with this, I know it’s Holly. She won’t look at me with pity. At least, I hope not.

Pushing open the door to my childhood room, I turn on the lamp and step aside. It’s still decorated for Christmas as it was the day I moved out. My grandmother’s last attempt at bringing me holiday cheer.

“So the Grinch likes Christmas after all,” Holly says lightly, almost as if she already knows the seriousness of this gesture. For that I’m grateful. Being here again has a rock lodged in my chest, and I already want to run.

“Once upon a time. Before my parents died on their way to my Christmas recital.”

Holly stays quiet with no pity in her eyes.

“Fatal car crash. Died instantly. I came to live with my grandma and grandpa, before he passed. Right here. She always tried to cheer me up with holiday decor and outings, but for some reason, it always made me hurt more. Their absence left me angry. I got into fights and made life hard on my grandparents.”

“And you’re trying to make up for it now?” she asks softly.

“Yeah, something like that. I also like spending time with my grandma. When she’s not hounding me to get married.”

Holly nods in understanding.

“Since I lost my parents, I’ve made it a general rule not to let anyone too close. Casual relationships just made me feel safer, somehow,” I admit, waiting for the slew of questions since we’re sitting in the most vulnerable place in the world to me, while I spout nonsense about noncommitments.

But she just takes in my words as if she’s still trying to understand me on my terms. A gracious gesture I’m unsure I deserve.

“I’m ashamed of the way I left you last night, and I’m not so great with apologies, so I was hoping you might understand my Grinch-like behavior if I explained myself. It’s not an excuse, and I swear it’ll never happen again. I just want you to know last night meant a lot to me, despite my juvenile antics.”

She looks at me with gentle understanding. “I appreciate that more that I can tell you. Thank you so much for sharing that with me. It clearly wasn’t easy for you, and the fact you did still blows my mind.”

I nod, no longer knowing what to say, and it’s that moment my grandma hollers up at us.

“I told you two not to move!” she says, laughing at the bottom of the stairs.

“Coming!” I shout back and follow Holly downstairs. Somehow, I feel lighter. As if finally sharing my pain with someone I trust has lifted a heavy burden I’ve carried for too long. A dark shadow of my past evaporated into thin air, making me feel more human again. Maybe, my heart is growing two sizes bigger.

When we make our way to the doorframe of the dining room, my grandma stops us.

“Hold it right there,” she says. The table is set for dessert. Apple pie and vanilla ice cream.

Then my meddlesome grandma points up. Looking above our heads, we see mistletoe. I turn to Holly, but there’s worry in her eyes. My body burns with want at the thought of even touching her, but only if she wants it. I remember her rule, and with hope rising in my chest, I take her face in my hands. Leaning in, I put my mouth to her ear and hear her quick intake of breath. My cock hardens at the sound.

Whispering, I say, “If you don’t want to, I won’t, but I swear there’s nothing fake about the way I want to kiss you.”

Like putty, she seems to melt against me. Her body presses to mine, and I pull back to look in her eyes. I mean every word. Fuck casual. This woman isn’t like anyone who came before her, and although my chest is on fire with fear, my biggest fear of all is missing my chance to prove it to her.

Her eyes dance, and the familiar sexual tension builds as she rubs her nose against mine.

“May I?” I ask, and to utmost pleasure, she nods.

My lips fall to hers, and this kiss is like none other before it. Soft and hot and full of so much more than carnal lust. I want her, but this is a new kind of want. The possessive type. The kind that wants to take care of her. Listen to her needs and meet them. To be by her side always, not just for a quick fuck.

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