But the weight behind it?
A not-so-gentlefuck this up, and I’ll bury you.
Nick calls out at the last minute. I glance over my shoulder and wait out the man I respect the most in this world.
I don’t ever want to see that look in her eyes again, Chance.
His clenched jaw and worried eyes tell me he doesn’t like being in this position any more than I do.
If I do, you better pray you’re not the one who put it there.
On my way out of the room, the mistletoe catches my eye, dangling right where it’s meant to be—but looking suspiciously rough around the edges.
Like maybe it took a covert mission to the super lift to make sure I got another dose of Holly.
Like I’m not addicted enough after the brief kiss she planted on me.
On a technical level, her kiss and the one I dropped on Nick were virtually exact.
In terms of impact, Holly’s hit with the same raw power of a technologically-advanced, precision-guided missile—and rewrote the goddamn rules of physics on impact.
Now, almost outside Holly's door, that conversation feels like a premonition. Every step closer to her room sets off warning bells in my head—the kind that usually precedes an ambush.
When I knock, the sound echoes like artillery fire in the quiet hallway.
Charlie opens the door. She smiles, her eyes softening. “Don’t fuck this up."
“Understood.” I can’t help but smile down at the little hellraiser. Tough as nails on the outside?—
“I love you…”
"I sense a but," I say, adjusting my laptop under my arm.
"You are the butt." She squeezes me in a quick hug. "Your a damned good brother so I’ll overlook it.”
She glances over her shoulder and turns back to me, schooling her features, but I caught the worry. “Now, before I leave you alone with her, did you seek professional help for your that stellar meltdown earlier?”
“You could say that. Nick and I were at the bar when you called.”
“That works.” With a pat on my chest, she rises onto her toes to kiss my cheek.
“Play nice, kids,” she calls back before with a wave as she slips out the door.
It clicks shut with an ominous finality. Or maybe that's just the weight of everything unsaid pressing in.
The soft lamplight wraps around Holly where she's curled in the chair, an oversized sweater swallowing her small frame.
Striped socks, baby blue and ivory this time, hug her legs all the way to mid-thigh.
Her glasses catch the light as she glances up, then quickly away.
The room feels smaller than it is, intimate in a way that makes my pulse quicken. Some sitcom plays quietly in the background—New Girl,I think—but all I can focus on is how she bites her lip while pretending not to watch me.
"Heard you were having WiFi issues." I aim for casual, miss by a mile.
"That's not all I'm having." The words hit their target with deadly accuracy.
Closing my eyes briefly, I take the hit. When I open them, she's still there, still beautiful, still hurt. "Yeah. We should probably talk about that."
