Page 78 of Holly and Ivar
“Ivar, that is not helping.I do not need more pressure while I figure this out.”
“Hol,” he began gently.“The Yule Tree wasn’t wrong about me—and yes, that sentence did leave my mouth.But kidding aside, I’ve been withdrawn since returning from California.But then you came into my life, and I’m living again.”
She leaned on the kitchen counter, allowing the tears to flow freely.“My whole life has been about giving.It’s all I ever wanted to do.It’s my job, and I worked tirelessly to be the best, only to discover that a tree judged me and found me lacking.”She half laughed, half sobbed.“How can a Santa fail at the only requirement in the job description?”
His chair scraped on the floor as he pushed it back, joining her, his arms wrapping around her.He pulled her close, and she leaned into him, his embrace like a sponge, absorbing her pain.The miracle of it almost caused her to weep, for at her darkest moment, she was not alone.
Because the truth had hit her, and it was hard to bear: a Santa who had turned giving into a job.Who treated Christmas as nothing more than a to-do list, full of spreadsheets and production quotas.
Holly clung to him, her lifeboat, as her words poured out.“How do I fix this, Ivar?I’ve changed, I know I have.With you, I’ve rediscovered joy and fun.I even phoned Rita and told her I was taking Christmas off this year because I want to spend it here with you.”
His happiness hit her like a wave.“You don’t have to do that.I can come with you, provided that’s allowed.”
“You’re so sweet, and yes, it’s allowed, but I wanted to enjoy Christmas and not have it be a checklist.”She leaned into him.“Oh gosh.That says it all, doesn’t it?Darn that tree.I guess it’s two for two.”
“It would appear that way.”He leaned past her, grabbing a box of tissues.“Here.”
“Thanks.”
“Just be gentle.Those were friends of mine once.”
Holly snorted out a laugh through her tears.
A silence stretched out then, and she reached for his hands, loving the way his rough fingers wrapped around her smaller ones.She leaned against his chest, listening to his heart beat in sync with hers—two hearts beating as one.Guardian and Giver.Chosen to fix the balance.
Chosen.
She stepped back.A snowball of panic formed, and it started rolling downhill.“Think about all that’s happened since we held hands in front of the Yule Tree.”
“Okay.”
“What do you think it means?”
“Guardian-and-Giver-wise, or you-and-me-wise?”
“Do you think we can separate them?”
“I do.”
“Then you and me.”
“Easy.It means we were meant to be together.”
“But aren’t you worried that the amazing connection we have was created only for the purpose of ‘restoring the balance?’”she asked, mocking Henry’s voice.“What if it’s not real?”
He squeezed her hands tight.“There’s not a single cell in my body that questions whether what we have is real.My heart knows it, my brain knows it, even the very tips of my fingers know it.”
“I’m not so sure.”Her voice was barely more than a whisper.
Her head dropped against his chest.“I’m going back to the inn.I need some time alone.”
“Whatever you need, for as long as it takes.I’ll be here when you’re ready.”He was trying to be strong for her, but she heard the heartache in his voice, felt his pain pulse through her, and it twisted her heart into knots.
She slid into her coat and boots and walked out softly into the night, leaving her heart behind.
***
Back at the inn, she lay in bed, staring at the ceiling while tears ran down her cheeks.She loved Ivar, but how could she ever be sure it was real, that they weren’t just pawns in some weird cosmic game.There was so much to process, so much to consider.She’d come to Winterwood to assess Yule lines.How did it get so complicated?
