Chapter 18
HOLIDAY
Itake another drink of bourbon, and it goes down like water. That’s when I know I’m in big trouble.
We’ve been out here for an hour, and I’ve thought about every question I’ve wanted to ask Lucas since I arrived in town. So far, we’ve only really discussed safe topics and skirted the ones that would force us to dig deeper.
The silence growing between us is almost too much. We’re both drinking faster now, building up courage for whatever comes next.
“You first,” Lucas says, setting the bottle down.
My heart kicks up, and I wipe my sweaty palms on my jeans. “Actually, I don’t know if I’m drunk enough for this.”
“Can you taste the bourbon?” He shifts the camping chair so he’s directly in front of me. The firelight catches his face, all angles and shadows and scruff.
“No,” I confess.
“Great. Then I’ll start. Make it easier.”
“Okay.”
He takes a breath. “Why did you really come back to Merryville?”
“I told you. My contract ended and—”
“No surface-level bullshit, remember? Real answers.”
I look at the flames dancing and hear the wood crackling. “Because I didn’t know where else to go. Because I was so tired of pretending to be someone I wasn’t. Because I needed to remember who I was before…” I trail off.
“Continue.”
“Before Paris. Before I let someone else define who I was supposed to be.” I take another drink. “Before I forgot what it felt like to be proud of my own work.”
Lucas does nothing but listen and suddenly it’s spilling out. The bourbon and the firelight and the fact that this man—the one person I’ve always been able to tell my secrets—makes it impossible to hold back anything.
“Dominic took credit for everything I created. My recipes. My techniques. My ideas.” I shake my head.
“And I let him. I actually let him because I thought that’s what you did when you worked with someone you cared about.
You supported them and lifted them up. I didn’t realize he was standing on my shoulders only to elevate himself. ”
“Holiday—”
“I finally left when I overheard him talking to a food critic about his signature lavender honey cookie. The one I spent a year perfecting.” I swipe at unexpected tears. “He was laughing about how easy it was to create, like it came to him in a dream.”
Lucas’s jaw tightens. “That’s fucked up.”
“A week later, I packed my bags and told him I was done. He laughed at me and said I was no one before him. That I’d failed him and I’d fail again. He called me selfish. Listed his accolades against my blank slate.”
“You didn’t fail, HoHo.”
“Didn’t I? I lost everything.” I take a shaky breath. “I barely know who I am as a baker or a person without someone telling me what to do. For years, I was a robot.”
“That’s why you keep second-guessing yourself.”
“Yeah, but…” I look at him, knowing he deserves the whole truth. “I also came back for you.”
Lucas inhales a deep breath, and I know he wants to ask another question, but he can’t because it’s my turn.
We sit in silence for a moment. The fire pops and sends sparks into the night.
“Did you date anyone seriously after I left?”
He chuckles. “Fifteen years and that’s the question you ask?”
I groan. “Yes. Now answer it.”
“Okay. Yeah. A few.”
My stomach clenches. “How many?”
“That’s two questions.”
I take another sip of bourbon and remind him of the rules of our made-up game. “Confessions are deeper than surface-level bullshit. Tell me.”
“Three serious relationships.” He leans back. “One lasted a year. One lasted eight months. The other lasted six months before she told me I was clearly in love with someone else and was tired of competing with a ghost.”
The truth hangs between us. It’s simple, honest, and devastating.
But jealousy isn’t what I expected to feel. It nearly swallows me whole.
“Was that true?” I whisper, my heart pounding.
I never took into account that Lucas could be in love with someone else. Maybe that’s why he’s refused to let me in. He looks at me. Really looks at me. “I answered your first question. Save it for the next one.”
My heart is pounding.
“What do you want from me, Holiday?” It’s direct.
“I don’t know. I don’t have any expectations. I’m fucked up, Lucas. Honestly, your gut instinct to stay away from me is right. You probably should,” I tell him, knowing the truth serum is working.
“That’s not happening,” he says matter-of-factly, and it eases some of my fears that after this contest, he’ll go back to ignoring me.
I sip more bourbon.
“Do you ever think about us and what might’ve been?”
“Every fucking day.” He glances at the fire, and I see years of hurt in his eyes. Guilt nearly swallows me whole. “You were the ghost who haunted the hallways of my heart. You were the reason I couldn’t commit to anyone.”
He looks back at me. “I’d think about your laugh when I told terrible jokes.
The way you’d steal my hoodies and how they’d smell like you for days.
But I mostly missed when you looked at me like I was the only person who mattered in your world.
You made me believe love existed, but you also made me hate it. ”
His jaw clenches.
“You have every right to be angry with me,” I whisper, drinking more bourbon.
“I’m not angry with you, Holiday. I just can’t lose myself again. You make me weak. You make me believe things that you never believed were possible.”
My brows furrow. “Like what?”
“Uh-uh. Not your turn,” he says. Seconds turn into minutes. “Did you ever think about me, us, and what could’ve been?”
I nod. “All the time. Usually around the holidays, when people were decorating trees. But there were other times, too. Like when I’d hear a song on the radio that reminded me of our summer together. And…”
My body burns, and I tuck my lips into my mouth.
His eyes don’t leave mine. “Tell me.”
I put the bottle to my lips and drink until bubbles appear. “Anytime I touched myself.”
A cocky smirk plays on those perfect lips, and his gaze narrows. “Mm. Bad fucking girl.”
“You were the best I ever had.”
“Wow,” he says, taking the bottle from me. Our fingers brush, and goose bumps trail over my arm. “Truthfully, you’ll probably be the best I’ll ever have, too. I can count on my hands how many times Dominic made me, you know, the seven years we were together.”
His eyes darken. “Sad.”
“Tell me about it. Maybe it was always supposed to be you. I don’t know.” My face burns.
He reaches out to cup my face. “Fuck. Your turn,” he says after a moment, his thumb stroking my cheekbone.
“Do you think you’ll ever be able to forgive me for hurting you?”
“I’ve forgiven you, I just haven’t forgotten.
I thought what we had was enough, and it wasn’t.
So, forgive me if I’m cautious. I don’t think you know what you want in life, and I cannot be your rebound, Holiday.
You taught me that a man should never try to build a house on unstable ground unless he wants it to collapse. I can’t do that again.”
The truth makes my tears prickle my eyes.
“That’s fair,” I whisper. “I’m a mess.”
“Give yourself credit. You just stood up to a bully, and it takes time to heal. You can’t rush that.” His voice is fierce. “Are you leaving again?”
“I don’t know,” I say. “No one will hire me because of Dominic. If an opportunity arose, depending on where it is, I’d consider it.
I feel like I have so much to offer in my career.
But then I ask myself if I’m going to spend my entire life working for someone else.
I dreamed of having my own bakery. Calling all the shots.
Shipping cookies around the world. I don’t know if that will ever happen now.
I could never open a cookie shop in Merryville to compete with Emma. I have no options.”
Lucas glances down at his phone, and I see we have fifteen minutes of asking questions left.
“Do you still want me?” I ask, ripping the Band-Aid off so hard it takes skin.
“I want you to be happy,” he says.
“That wasn’t my question. No dodgeball.”
He stares at me for a long time. The flames dance across our bodies as the wood crackles and pops.
“I want you so bad it fucking hurts,” he finally admits. “But I won’t touch you, Holiday. I won’t kiss you. I will refuse your every move until you know what you want in life. I’m not a toy.”
“I want—”
“Don’t you dare say me.” He leans closer. “Figure your shit out.”
“Will you wait for me?”
“I’ve been waiting fifteen years.”
Our gazes lock, and in that moment, I believe everything will be okay. Tears fill my eyes and I wipe them away. “I don’t deserve you.”
“And see, that’s where you’re wrong. You do. But we have a lot of catching up to do. We’re the same at our core, but we’re also different, older. We’ve been apart for almost as long as we knew each other.”
The timer goes off, and I know our game time of Confessions has closed.
He stands and holds out his hand. “Come on.”
I take his hand and let him pull me up. My body is buzzing with bourbon as he leads me to the small tent.
“We need to sleep off this booze,” he tells me, unzipping the flap. I climb inside, and I’m taken back to a time in our past. It’s too intimate, with one large sleeping bag and blankets on top. I slide inside the bag, and he joins me until we’re chest to chest.
“You clearly didn’t think this through,” I whisper, hearing his breath in my ear.
My entire body hums. We’re inches apart in the darkness. Being next to him is the only time I’m not afraid.
“I missed you,” I say.
He reaches out and tucks a few strands of hair behind my ear. “Don’t you fucking break my heart again.”
“I don’t want to.”
His hand slides to my hip.
I shift closer. “Lucas?”
“Mm?”
“I can feel how hard you are.”
“I know.” His hand tightens on my hip.
I rock my hips against him, and he makes a sound, low in his throat. His hand slides under my sweater, fingers on bare skin.
“I won’t,” he says, but his body is saying otherwise. “Fuck, you’re tempting.”
I press fully against him, and I can feel every inch of him. His thumb strokes my hip under my sweater.
We lie there, pressed together, breaths ragged.
“I won’t touch you,” he whispers against my ear. “But you can touch yourself.”
My breath catches. Heat floods through me.
“Close your eyes.”
I do.
“Do you remember the first time I showed you how?” His voice drops lower.
“Yes,” I whisper. “I remember everything.” My breathing quickens.
His bourbon breath is hot against my ear. “You were a bad influence.”
“You were, too.” I breathe out.
My hand trembles as I slide it inside my jeans, but outside my panties. I can feel how wet I am through the fabric. A gasp escapes me as I add pressure.
“That’s it,” he whispers.
I unbutton my jeans and move a hand inside my panties. “I want you so bad.”
“I know.” His lips brush my ear. “Slow circles.”
Overwhelming pleasure overtakes me. It’s been so long since I’ve felt this.
“That’s my girl,” he murmurs. “Feel good?”
“Yes.”
“Keep going. Imagine it’s me touching you. Just like you’ve been doing.”
A moan escapes, and he buries his face in my neck. His lips are hot against my skin as they trail down my throat, kissing and sucking.
“So fucking sexy,” he whispers against my neck.
I whimper and move faster as pleasure builds tight in my belly. His mouth is everywhere—my neck, my ear, the sensitive spot below my jaw that makes me gasp, but not on my lips.
“Chase it. Your body is yours. Your pleasure is yours.” His voice is rough against my skin. “No one else gets to tell you what to do anymore. Claim it.”
The words break something open. Tears stream as pleasure builds higher. His mouth is relentless on my neck.
“Lucas,” I gasp. “I’m—”
His teeth graze my earlobe. “Come for me, Holiday. Let go.”
I unravel as the orgasm rips through me, and I cry out into the darkness of the tent. Lucas’s mouth is on my neck, kissing me through it as I shake and tremble in his arms.
Wave after wave. My body remembers. Remembers this. Remembers him.
When I finally come down, I’m nearly gasping for air, but Lucas never lets me go. His face is still buried in my neck, whispering soft words against my skin as he inhales me.
“I’ve got you.” I feel him smile against my neck and pull away.
He takes my hand—the one inside my panties—and brings it to his mouth.
His eyes lock on mine as he sucks my fingers.
He hums. “After all this time, you still taste like peaches.”
I laugh-sob. “Lucas.”
He pulls me against his chest. I can feel how hard he still is. But he doesn’t push.
Just holds me.
“Thank you,” I whisper. “For giving that back to me.”
He kisses my forehead. “Watching and hearing you come apart? A fucking fantasy.”
I snuggle into him, just wanting to be held by him. He’s safe.
For the first time in years, I feel like myself.
His arms tighten around me. “Nothing changes.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
And I know for a damn fact, he’ll keep it. He always has.