I declined the call and trudged back to the town square, where I could distract myself with tangled Christmas lights, electrical outlets that sparked ominously, and vendors arguing over booth placement like they were staking claims in the Gold Rush.
I was starting to think the courtroom was a simpler place than this town square. At least opposing counsel never handed me mistletoe while giving me a wink and saying, “You might need this later.”
Twenty-Six
HOLLY
Storm Warning
I wokeup at five AM to the sound of something that might have been wind, or possibly the apocalypse, rattling my bedroom windows with the enthusiasm of a freight train trying to break down the door.
The Everdale Falls Christmas Festival was officially starting in six hours. My video interview with Hartwell & Associates was in two days. And based on the howling outside, Mother Nature had apparently decided that December 21st was the perfect day to remind Vermont who was actually in charge.
I stumbled to the window and peered through the frost-covered glass to see snow falling sideways in sheets so thick I couldn’t see the Hayes house next door. The kind of snow that turned festival coordination into an extreme sport and made video interviews feel like the least of my problems.
My phone buzzed with a text from Declan:
Weather update: we’re officially in “character-building” territory. Festival supply shed check at 7 AM?
Character-building. That was one way to describe trying to help set up the outdoor vendor booths in what appeared to be a legitimate blizzard.
I was typing back a response when my phone rang with a number I didn’t recognize but somehow made my stomach clench with dread.
“Holly, thank god you picked up,” came Derek’s voice, smooth and confident like he hadn’t broken my heart and made me homeless only a few weeks ago. “I’ve been trying to reach you for weeks.”
I sat down hard on my bed, staring at the snow whipping past my window and trying to process why my lying, cheating ex-boyfriend was calling me at five in the morning four days before Christmas.
“Derek,” I said, my voice sounding steadier than I felt. “Why are you calling me?”
“I miss you,” he said, like it was the most natural thing in the world. “I made a mistake, Holly. A huge mistake.”
Huge mistake?Is that what he called stealing from me and cheating on me?
“You should have done a lot of things differently,” I said, surprising myself with how calm I sounded. “But that’s not really my problem anymore.”
“But we were so good together. We can be again,” Derek continued, his voice taking on the persuasive tone that had once made me believe he actually cared about me. “I’m starting my own PR firm, Holly. I want you to be my partner.”
Partner.
“Would this be withmymoney? Hmm?” I spat out and then shook my head.Don’t do this. Not now.
“Holly, you know I’ll pay you back. I just need some start-up cash.” His tone riled me up more than the fact that he stole from me. “Just think about it over Christmas.”
“We were never good together,” I said, standing up and walking to my window where I could now see the Hayes’ house through the swirling snow. “You were good at using me, and I was good at pretending that was the same thing.”
“Holly—”
“I have to go,” I interrupted. “I have things to do that don’t involve talking to loser slimeballs.”
“Loser?” Derek laughed, and the sound made my skin crawl. “That’s rich.”
And there he was. The asshole I could definitely live without.
“I assume you need more cash, or Ellie dumped you, or whatever. I don’t give a flying fuck. Never call me again. Goodbye, Derek.”
I ended the call and immediately blocked his number, but the conversation left me feeling unsettled in ways that had nothing to do with weather complications or festival logistics. Derek’s call was a reminder of everything I’d thought I wanted before my life imploded.
I was still staring at my phone when it buzzed with another text from Declan:
