Page 50 of A Very Merry Enemy
Dominic Laurent.
Just his name makes my jaw clench. He’s everything I’m not. Sophisticated. Famous. Someone who could give her the world instead of a Christmas tree farm in the middle of nowhere.
My phone sits on the passenger seat. I stare at it for a full minute before I pick it up.
Holiday
About last night.
Fuck.
Lucas
Forget it.
Holiday
We should probably talk.
Lucas
Nothing to talk about.
Holiday
But you held me.
My hands tighten on the phone.
Lucas
Don’t read into it. Meant nothing.
Holiday
You’re impossible.
I want to tell her it meant everything. I should apologize for being an asshole.
Instead, I lock my phone and toss it back on the seat.
I get out and slam the door so hard it echoes across the empty lot.
The barn smells like hay, motor oil, and wood shavings. It’s dark and cold, and I flip on the overhead lights. They flicker before coming on fully.
Extra Christmas decorations are stacked in the corner. There are boxes of lights, garland, and ornaments. They’re mocking me with their cheerfulness.
I climb to the hayloft and start throwing bales down to bring to the horse barn. Each bale weighs around sixty pounds and drops with a loud thump. Once I’m done with the hay, I move to the firewood. We sell tons of cords during winter, and I startrestacking the bundles of logs, tossing them harder than necessary.
One slips from my grip and crashes to the ground, splitting open.
“Fuck,” I whisper. Everything I touch breaks.
By the time Jake shows up around seven, I’ve reorganized half the barn and I’m soaked with sweat.
“Morning,” Jake says, too cheerfully. He’s carrying two coffees from the gift shop. “Brought you?—”
“Don’t need it.”
