“It wasn’t a religious thing or a purity thing. I never wanted to give that to someone who saw me as convenient. As a placeholder. My grandma used to tell me that some things are worth waiting for. That the right person would make me feel like their person. I wanted it to mean everything and be with someone who chose me on purpose, not because I was available.”
My throat tightens.
“And I know we only met yesterday.” She doesn’t meet my gaze now. “And I know this is too much information and you’re thinking I’m?—”
“Stop.” I cross to her.
She looks up, her eyes wide, vulnerable in a way that undoes me.
“That’s not weird or too much. That’s…” I search for the right word. “Brave.”
“Brave?”
“Yeah. Knowing what you want and not settling for less. That takes guts.”
Holly blinks. “You don’t think it’s… I don’t know. Pathetic? Like I couldn’t get anyone?”
“No. I think you could’ve had anyone. You didn’t want that. There’s a difference.”
She laughs, the sound shaky. “Not sure others would agree. They mostly look at me like I’m lying or damaged or?—”
“They’re idiots.”
“Maybe.”
“Not maybe. Definitely.”
The air between us shifts. Heats.
I should step back. Keep a distance. Stay safe.
Instead, I lift my hand and cup her cheek, my rough palm against her soft skin.
Holly’s breath hitches. She leans into the touch, her eyes fluttering closed for a second.
“A decision like this deserves care,” I say. “If you want to be with someone, they should know what you’re trusting them with. They should take their time. Make sure you’re ready and it’s right so you feel safe and seen. Not convenient.”
“I know,” she whispers.
I brush her lower lip with my thumb. Her breath catches. My eyes drop to her mouth.
My pulse kicks hard.
Not yet.Not like this.Without her being absolutely sure.
I lower my hand and step back. Cold air rushes between us. Every instinct screams to pull her close again and test how thatsoft mouth would feel against mine. “Not yet. Not until you’re sure this isn’t just... cabin fever. Storm intensity.”
“Cole—”
“Tomorrow. If you still want this tomorrow, when the storm’s passed and you’ve had space to think... then we’ll talk about what this is.” I step back farther, putting the counter between us. “Cookies are cooling.”
She blinks again. Her pupils are blown, her lips parted, and her cheeks flushed. “Right. Cookies.”
I force myself to turn away before I do anything we’re not ready for.
I move to the closet and reach past the ornament box to the shelf behind.
The strand of lights is there. White LEDs, barely used. Emma insisted on them. Said they wereclassy. I told her they were boring. She swatted my arm and hung them anyway.
