Chapter 33 #2
The gasps from the crowd at my foul language did nothing to stop me. I was on a roll. Even when Lucinda Heron clapped her hands over her daughter’s ears, it didn’t stop me from saying everything I’d wanted to say to this asshole for years.
“You have lost your goddamn mind,” Richard spat, his voice shaking with a rage I knew well from our board meetings. “This place… these people… they’ve infected you.”
Holly’s hand found mine, her fingers lacing through my own with a firm, steady pressure that felt like an anchor. “I think you should leave,” she said, her voice low but carrying with unshakable authority.
Richard ignored her, his eyes locked on me. “This is career suicide, Declan. You’ll be a joke. A footnote. The guy who threw it all away for some Christmas-themed delusion.”
“I’d rather be a footnote in your world than the main character in a life I hate,” I said, the words feeling truer than anything I’d ever argued in a courtroom. “You aren’t welcome here, Richard, so fuck off back to your rat race. I’ll stay here and actually live my life with no regrets.”
Richard glared at me so hard, I thought his brain was going to explode.
But then something flickered across his face.
His gaze shot over my shoulder, and I turned to see that the town was rallying behind me, supporting me.
In New York, I would have been hung out to dry, even by those I called my friends.
This was… everything.
The entire festival had paused, a collective breath held in the crisp winter air, not in judgment of me, but in solidarity against the intruder who dared to insult one of their own.
Richard’s face, already pale from the cold, lost any remaining color.
He looked from face to determined face, his lawyerly composure finally cracking under the weight of a hundred silent condemnations.
This wasn’t a boardroom he could control or a negotiation he could win.
This was a community, and he was the outsider.
Without another word, he spun around, his expensive shoes slipping precariously on a patch of ice. He didn’t look back. He just trudged through the snow toward his ridiculous car, leaving a trail of defeated footprints and the lingering stench of condescension.
The moment his car door slammed shut, the town square exhaled. A smattering of applause broke out, led by my parents. Holly squeezed my hand, her eyes shining with pride.
“Well,” Matt said, clapping me on the shoulder. “That was a hell of a resignation speech.”
I looked at Holly, at my best friend, at the faces of my neighbors smiling at me, and felt a profound sense of peace settle over me. I hadn’t just chosen a place. I’d chosen a family. And for the first time, my future felt not just possible, but perfect.
“That was dramatic,” Holly said with a nervous laugh.
“Very dramatic,” I agreed, pulling her closer. “Think everyone heard the part where I said I love you?”
“I think everyone in a three-block radius heard the part where you said you love me.”
“Good,” I said, kissing her soundly. “Let them all know that I’m completely, irrevocably in love with Holly Winters and planning to stay in Everdale Falls forever.”
“Forever’s a long time,” Holly said against my lips.
“Not long enough,” I said, and meant it completely. The anxiety that I had been harboring lifted completely. Who knew that telling your boss to fuck off and stick his job was a cure for all that plagued you?
Three hours later, Holly and I were standing in the lobby of the Everdale Inn, a cozy bed-and-breakfast on the outskirts of town that Holly had suggested when we wanted our first night together as a committed couple to be somewhere private and romantic rather than in either of our childhood homes, with our parents down the hall.
“Room twelve,” Lucy said cheerfully, handing us an old-fashioned key. “Our best suite. Beautiful view of the mountains, fireplace, private bath. Perfect for a romantic getaway.”
“Thank you,” Holly said, accepting the key with nervousness that I found completely endearing.
As we made our way up the stairs to the second floor, this felt different from our previous encounters.
This wasn’t desperate attraction or holiday romance or stolen moments in inappropriate locations.
This was the beginning of our real life together, and the weight of that was both thrilling and terrifying.
“You okay?” Holly asked as she unlocked the door to our room.
“Perfect,” I said, though what I was thinking was that I’d never been more nervous about sleeping with someone in my life, probably because this wasn’t just about sleeping together anymore.
This was about choosing each other, permanently and publicly and with the full support of our families and community.
The room was exactly what Lucy had promised—cozy and romantic with a stone fireplace, a four-poster bed covered in soft quilts, and windows that looked out over snow-covered mountains.
It was the kind of place designed for romantic getaways and marriage proposals and all the traditional milestones that suddenly felt not just possible but inevitable.
“It’s beautiful,” Holly said softly, moving to the window to look out at the view.
“You’re beautiful,” I said, because it was true and because I was apparently incapable of being in the same room with her without stating obvious facts about her general perfection.
Holly turned from the window with the kind of smile that made my chest tighten with happiness and anticipation and the overwhelming certainty that I was exactly where I belonged.
“Declan,” she said quietly, “are you sure about this? About us, about staying, about all of it?”
“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life,” I said, moving toward her. “Are you?”
“Yes,” Holly said simply, and then she was kissing me with the kind of desperate intensity that suggested she’d been waiting for this moment as much as I had.
I took my time undressing her, unwrapping her like the Christmas present I had been waiting for, memorizing every inch of skin as it was revealed, and she did the same for me, her hands gentle and sure as she explored muscles and scars and all the imperfections that made up the body she was choosing to love.
When she dropped to her knees and took my cock in her mouth, I slid my hand into her hair, staring down at her as she grazed her teeth down my length.
“Fuck,” I groaned. “Your mouth is so fucking hot.”
She looked up at me, her green eyes dark with desire, and I knew I couldn’t just stand there and take. This wasn’t just about getting off; it was about starting our lives. I threaded my fingers deeper into her hair and gently pulled her to her feet.
“My turn,” I murmured, my voice rough.
I lifted her into my arms and carried her to the four-poster bed.
The fire crackled in the hearth, casting a warm, flickering light across the room as I laid her down.
I kissed her, a deep, slow kiss that was full of all the things I hadn’t been able to say on the festival stage or in front of our parents. It was a kiss that said forever.
This time was different from the cabin, different from the storage room.
There was no desperation, no stolen urgency.
This was a deliberate, unhurried exploration.
Every touch was a promise, every kiss a declaration.
I trailed my mouth down over her gorgeous tits, pausing to suck her nipples into hard, aching peaks.
I moved lower, over her stomach and parted her legs so I could see her clit waiting for me to bite it gently.
I gripped it between my teeth and tugged until she cried out.
Slipping two fingers inside her, she clamped down on me almost immediately with a soft moan.
I worked my fingers inside her, curling them to find that spot that made her gasp, while my tongue circled her clit in slow, deliberate strokes.
She was already close—I could feel it in the way her thighs trembled against my shoulders, in the breathless sounds she was making that were part moan, part plea.
“Declan,” she whispered, her hands fisting in my hair. “Please.”
I loved hearing her beg. Loved knowing that I could make her come undone like this. I increased the pressure, sucking her clit into my mouth while my fingers thrust deeper, and she shattered with a cry that echoed off the walls of our perfect little room.
Before she could catch her breath, I was moving up her body, positioning myself between her legs. I paused, looking down at her flushed face, her kiss-swollen lips, her eyes dark with satisfaction and renewed desire.
“I love you,” I said, the words coming easier now that I’d said them publicly in front of half the town. “I’m going to love you for the rest of my life.”
“I love you too,” Holly whispered, reaching up to cup my face. “Now stop talking and make love to me.”
I entered her slowly, savoring the way she felt around me, the way her body welcomed mine like we’d been made for this. This wasn’t frantic or desperate. This was deliberate, purposeful—a physical manifestation of every promise we’d made to each other.
“God, Holly,” I breathed, feeling her pussy tighten around my cock. “You feel so perfect.”
She answered with a soft moan, her nails dragging down my back in a way that would definitely leave marks. Good. I wanted to carry the evidence of this night with me, wanted the reminder that this was real and permanent and everything I’d been too afraid to hope for.
I shifted my angle, hitting that spot inside her that made her gasp, and increased my pace slightly. Not frantic, but purposeful. Her breathing changed, becoming shorter and more desperate, and I knew she was close again.
“That’s it,” I murmured against her neck, kissing the sensitive spot behind her ear. “Come for me, like a good girl. Let me feel what I do to you.”
“Declan!” she cried and shattered, her pussy clenching around me in waves that pushed me over the edge right after her.
I thrust deep one final time, groaning as my orgasm tore through me with an intensity that had nothing to do with the physical and everything to do with the emotional weight of what we were building together.
For several long moments, we just lay there, tangled together and breathing hard, while the fire crackled and the snow fell softly outside our window.