Page 92 of Holly Ever After

Holly.

She's everywhere. In the shape of the shadows, in the corner of my eye, in every damned thought that pops into my head. God, the memory of her under me, her skin heating up with every touch, her back arching in response, the soft moans escaping her lips. It's intoxicating. Maddening.

And then there's the maze. Her eyes. They've always been so expressive, but I've never seen them quite like that—vulnerable, raw, hurt. I could tell myself a thousand times that what happened was for the best. That pushing her away was the right move. But that damned look in her eyes says otherwise. It accuses, questions, and most of all, it wounds.

Since she's been back, every damn day is a test. It's like living with a ghost. There are moments I think I've moved on, that I've put the past to rest. Then, there she is—invading my thoughts, drawing me back in, challenging everything I've built in her absence.

It was simpler when she wasn’t around. My days were predictable, nights restful. But now? It's like walking through a minefield. One wrong move and everything blows up.

I have to shake this off. Find a way to get back to where I was before she waltzed back into town and disrupted everything. But as I sink deeper into my thoughts, the undeniable truth hits me: I don't want to go back. Not really. Not when the alternative is this raw, this real, this…alive.

My grip on the steering wheel tightens as my headlights illuminate two women ahead, both doubled over with laughter. As they squint into the blinding light, my heart skips a beat, and my teeth grind together. “What the fuck are they doing out in the cold?”

Throwing my truck into park, I jump out, a storm of emotions brewing inside me.

Jackie, ever the comedic relief, lets out a hiccup and nudges Holly, whispering not-so-quietly, “Shit, you’re in trouble.” But my focus remains solely on Holly.

“What the fuck are you doing?” I demand.

She meets my gaze with those defiant eyes, tipping her chin up in challenge. “Girls' night,” she retorts, her arms crossing over her chest defensively.

For a long, tense moment, it feels as though the world has narrowed down to just the two of us. It's a silent battle of wills, each of us waiting for the other to break first.

The silence is finally shattered by Jackie. “Now that you're here, can you give us a ride home?”

My hands ball into tight fists. “Get in,” I order, my voice harsher than intended.

Holly leans over to Jackie, muttering something about being a traitor, but Jackie, with a dramatic eye roll, makes her way to the truck, clambering into the backseat.

Holly stands her ground, her gaze unwavering. “I can walk,” she insists stubbornly.

Taking a deep breath to control the anger and concern bubbling in my chest, I step closer. “Get in the damn truck.”

Despite her feigned bravado, I see her shiver. Maybe from the cold, maybe from my proximity; I can't tell. “I can get myself home but thank you.”

“I won't tell you again. Get in the truck, or I swear I'll put you in myself.”

“Make—” She stops herself, knowing the last time she tested me like this, I kissed the hell out of her. Her eyes widen just a fraction, but it's enough for me to notice. Just when I think I've won this standoff, she blows out an exasperated breath. I brace myself, ready to haul her in, but she stops me with a sharp retort. “Fine! I'll go.”

After a silent, tense drive, we reach Jackie's place. She stumbles out of the truck, tossing a half-hearted “thanks” over her shoulder before disappearing inside her house.

Without a word, I pull the truck back onto the road, taking a left turn, as Holly shifts uncomfortably in her seat.

“This isn't the way to my house,” she murmurs, a hint of anxiety creeping into her voice.

I flick the heater up a notch, trying to soothe away her shivers, though I'm still seething. “I'm taking you to my place.”

Instead of the expected protest, all she does is curse under her breath, which surprises me. The journey continues in silence, the only sound being the hum of the truck and our occasional breaths.

When we finally reach the clearing where my cabin stands, I pull the truck to a stop and hop out, the cool night air instantly hitting my face. I take a second to breathe, trying to calm the storm of emotions brewing. But when I look back, I notice Holly is still seated, her eyes wide as she takes in the sight of my cabin.

It's then I realize, she's not as drunk as I thought. Her eyes are clear, only a trace of the earlier alcohol glossiness left. They reflect the warm golden light emanating from my cabin's large glass windows.

Making my way to her side, I open the door. She continues to stare. “When I heard you built a cabin in the mountains, I imagined some tiny shack you'd hide away in to nurse your brooding.”

“A tiny shack, huh?”

I reach in, wrapping a hand firmly around her waist. With a swift pull, she's out of the truck and on her feet. She stumbles slightly but I catch her, our bodies coming dangerously close.

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