Page 19 of Havoc for the Holidays

Before I could say a proper parting, she hung up the phone and left me staring at a blank screen. Nevertheless, I did feel marginally better than before she’d called.

I was just about to toss my phone aside when it vibrated in my hand. I blinked three times in shock before I was able to kickstart myself to open the message. As if I'd summoned him with my remorseful pining, he'd reached out and I was determined to respond with equal effort after the admonishment from my mother. My heart plummeted when I read the message.

Ez: Ollie, please call me. Everything is a disaster and I need help. Can you call or come to the studio? I don't know what to do and it's too late to cancel the showcase. Please call?

My heart instantly swelled with concern for him. He was always so overwhelmingly confident and capable, so to see his clearly distraught appeal had me aching to reach out and help despite every conflicted feeling I was battling. Before I could let my overthinking stop me, I clicked the button to call him. He answered after the very first ring.

“Olls?”

Again, the pang in my chest had me wincing. He sounded so hopeful and earnestly glad that I answered, so naturally, I felt even more shitty about myself.

“I'm here, Ez. What's wrong?” I sat up with a muffled grunt and pushed my fingers through my chaotic curls, wincing as they caught on all the snags I'd neglected to brush out.

“Everything,” he sighed with a heaviness to his voice that knotted in my gut. “Can you come to the studio?”

“I…” My mother's voice echoed in my head, reminding me that it was okay to do things outside of being a father. Ez clearlyneeded someone right now. And God, how I wanted to be that someone. “Yes. We’ll be over in a bit.”

“Thank you. Thank you so much.”

We exchanged a quiet parting and I hung up my phone with a soft sigh. Were my thoughts any less jumbled? Not even a little. But I didn't care about that. I couldn't, not when someone I'd grown to care about was clearly in need. Somehow, all the earlier worries that had plagued me all week seemed inconsequential. With renewed purpose and a belly full of nerves, I did exactly as my mother had demanded—I dragged my sorry ass out of bed, washed my face, and left my apartment with my daughter in tow. The funny thing was, it didn't feel nearly as daunting as my mind had made it out to be.

The drive to the studio helped ease some of the anxiety as Becs oohed and ahhed over lights and decorations the entire way. Her youthful joy for the holiday season helped reinstall some of my own sense of wonder. Perhaps I had overreacted. Perhaps, like my mother said, I was simply a chronic worrier. Regardless, I worked extra hard to breathe through my fretting and sent up a prayer to my lucky stars that they would grant me some grace. Maybe, just maybe, I hadn't ruined everything. I really hoped I hadn't. I'd figure it out once I got to the studio, one way or another. The fact that Ezechiel had reached out to me in the first place helped me regain that tiny spark of hope that I thought had withered and died. Fingers crossed.

Chapter twelve

Ezechiel

He said yes. Thank God for holiday miracles, he said yes. I clutched my phone in a tight fist and scanned the chaos around me with a little less stress than I had just moments earlier. It had been a shot in the dark calling him for help given his noticeable distance over the last week, but in a moment of weakness and utter despondency, I'd called him for help and he said yes. Maybe, with a little luck, I'd be able to get out of the mess and end up with not only a successful showcase, but also asecond chance for a relationship I never knew I wanted as badly as I did.

Roughly fifteen minutes after my desperate cry for help, headlights illuminated the back parking lot before shutting off. He'd come, just like he said he would. I almost cried with relief. The chill of the night air swept in to take my breath away as I rushed forward to hold the door open for him and Becs. Their rumpled appearances took me by surprise as they shuffled into the studio in puffy winter coats and heavy boots layered over sleepwear.

“Oh, hi.” Ollie shifted on his feet with a sheepish half smile.

“Hi, Ez!” Becs skipped toward me with an audible clunking of her boots before wrapping her arms around my waist. “Daddy said we’re gonna help.”

“Yes, and I’m so thankful.” I ran a hand over her chaotic, tangled curls and chanced a glance toward Ollie just in time to spy the sad, but somewhat wistful expression on his face. “I'm really grateful.”

“Anytime, Ez. What happened?” His eyes skated away and took in the disarray of the studio as Becs ran head first into the chaos with the excitement only a child could possess.

With a grimace, I followed his gaze. “The storage place where we keep all the costumes and supplies… well, they asked us to get it all out yesterday morning. And today, my principal male dancer called to tell me he couldn't perform. His family is taking a trip to Vale that weekend.”

“Oh… goodness.” Ollie took a step forward and stopped short, wringing his hands. I wanted nothing more than to tug him into my arms for a hug, but everything in his body language told me to bide my time.

“On top of that, we lost our makeup artist and my mother neglected to inform me of this fact until this afternoon, and to be completely transparent… the accountant you told me about? Hesent his report over and it's not good.” I ran a hand over my face with a sigh.

“You mean… oh, Ez.” Apparently, I didn't need to wait long. Ollie hurried forward and enveloped me in a hug so restorative, I actually did struggle not to cry.

He squeezed tighter as I stifled a soft sniffle. I hadn't paid attention to how utterly delicious he smelled in all our other embraces, but the memory of it must have been buried deep in my subconscious, because as soon as the unique aroma of vanilla and lavender andhimhit my nose, my heart sang.

“It's not good. I never realized how much of my mom’s other income went to the studio. Her finances were all one big jumble, but now that the rental income isn't being invested in the studio… I don't know what to do.” I exhaled a heavy breath and simply allowed myself to wallow in the warmth of his embrace.

“Do a fundraiser!” Becs returned from her explorations wearing a tiara and wielding a wand that I didn't remember seeing amongst the boxes and totes and overflowing bags. She bopped her father on the hip with a giggle. “Like for school. We did a fundraiser for pumpkin picking.”

I reluctantly stepped back as Ollie released his hold on me to give his attention to Becs. With a tilt of my head, I considered her proposal. It wasn't all that bad a suggestion despite coming from the mind of a kindergartener. Ollie caught my eye again and shrugged. A faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth and I wanted so desperately to see the full breadth of the carefree grin I remembered so fondly.

“Fundraising is a good idea. You could do suggested donations at the door, too?” He scuffed one boot and snuck his hand out to link our pinkies together. “I can ask my mom if she'd like to do the makeup? It can't be too hard, right?”

“Your mom?” I blinked in surprise. We’d only briefly discussed his parents and I'd never met them, so I assumed they were no longer in the area.

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