Chapter One
She came to Whispering Pines to help others. She never expected to be the one who needed saving.
Holly
Taking one last look at my small storage unit, I make sure there’s nothing else I want to take with me. It’s pretty much just summer clothing and some sentimental items left now. I sold all my furniture, and I’m not a very materialistic person, unlike my family.
I make sure my duffle and cross-shoulder bag are on the outside of the door before pulling it down and securing the padlock on the latch.
I have no idea where I plan to be in the spring, when I’ll need these clothes, but at least they are somewhere I could access them without going through my mom.
She meant well… Well, I think she believes that she means well, but her and I are like oil and water.
It’s been like that my whole life. Her and my siblings, Trina and David, are the same.
They believe that to be successful, you need to look successful—drive the right car, wear designer clothes, take photos in front of trending spots.
To them, it’s not about working hard, it’s about making sure everyone believes you do.
And to my mom that meant me working a corporate nine-to-five job.
But I’m more like my dad, who passed away almost ten years ago. We were the dreamers of the family. The creative thinkers. We’d be more likely to take off on a random road trip to visit a field of sunflowers than we were to hold down a nine-to-five job.
Placing the strap of my cross-shoulder bag over my head, I pick up my duffle and head to my little orange SUV. Once settled inside, I plug in the address for Whispering Pines Town Hall into the navigation, knowing I’d rather get there and look around before choosing a hotel to stay at.
The nav says it’s going to take nineteen hours and forty minutes to get there from the outskirts of Chicago. “Sheesh, that’s a lot further than I thought,” I mumble to myself, realizing I’ll have to stop twice on the way there. I pull out onto the road as a shiver of excitement goes through me.
I can’t believe I’m doing this! I’m going halfway across the country to—
‘You’re a Mean One, Mr. Grinch’ suddenly starts playing from my phone, and I don’t have to look to see who’s calling.
I snicker to myself as I press answer. I had changed her ringtone last week when I told her I was moving to Montana to spend the entire Christmas season volunteering in Whispering Pines, and she responded by telling me what a huge mistake I was making.
Same tune, different day.
“Hi Mom.”
“Don’t hi Mom me, young lady,” she chastises angrily.
I try to maintain a pleasant voice and not sound like I would rather stab myself in the eye than listen to her yell at me again as I ask, “What’s wrong?”
“You know exactly why I’m calling. Your sister just called in tears because she’s no longer able to get to work.”
I roll my eyes at Trina’s dramatics. Although my mom is just as likely to fabricate Trina crying as Trina is herself.
“Mom, I—”
“I can’t believe how selfish you’re being, Holly. Did you really take off with her car?”
I clench my jaw, trying to hold in my anger. “No. I left town with my SUV.”
“You know very well she needs that car to get into the office!”
“You mean the office where you and David work, too?”
“She lives ten minutes out of the way for me. The fact that you don’t understand that tells me just how immature you still are. You could really stand to learn a few things from your brother and sister to get that head of yours out of the clouds.”
My fingers clench on the steering wheel as a fresh wave of anger rolls over me. I hate being compared to Trina and David. For some reason, all three of them always looked down on me, even though they’re the ones who are miserable. The only time I ever get upset is when I’m talking to them.
“You want me to be more like Trina and David?” I ask, stretching my neck from side to side as I try not to completely lose it on my mom.
“Honestly, Holly, is that so difficult?”
“Exactly which part of their lives did you want me to replicate? Trina’s three divorces? Or David’s gambling problem?”
“Holly Montgomery!" she yells into the phone as I take a few calming breaths to prepare for the backlash. “You know very well that gambling is a disease, it’s not his fault—”
“I suppose the DUI charge wasn’t his fault either?” I ask, referring to how David lost his license for drinking and driving two years ago.
“Stop this nonsense right now and go pick up your sister.”
I sigh, pinching the bridge of my nose as a headache starts to throb between my eyes. “I told you I was leaving town today.”
“What are you talking about? You can’t leave town.”
Is she really this oblivious?
“I told you on Tuesday that I’m heading to Montana.”
“I thought you were kidding! What about your job? And your apartment?”
“I quit my job and gave up the lease on my apartment. I’m literally on the road to Whispering Pines right now.”
“Young lady, you turn that car around right now!”
A small huff of a laugh escapes me at my mom's tantrum. “I’m sorry, Mom,” I say, trying to sound calm. “But I’m not coming back.”
“You’re acting like a spoiled brat right now,” she spits out, firing up my anger again. “If it weren’t for me, you would have nothing!”
Jesus Christ, this woman is delusional with a capital D.
“Dad left me the money, not you.”
“He was my husband!” she argues back angrily as I fight to maintain control and not drive off the side of the highway. “So that car basically belongs to me, and I’m telling you that Trina deserves it more than you. She has an actual job to get to, something you clearly don’t understand.”
I grit my teeth trying to stay calm as I reply.
“This is my car, not Trina’s, not David’s and not yours.
Trina can use the subway, or a bus, or rideshare, or you can pick her up.
Taking her to work is not my responsibility.
It’s not my fault she ruined her credit and can’t afford a car of her own.
If it’s so important to you, you buy her a car.
Her and David were given the same inheritance from Dad that I was, it’s not my fault they’ve squandered away money that should have lasted them a lifetime. ”
“Now you listen here—”
“No, you listen, Mom,” I cut her off before she can start in on me again, my patience reaching its limit. “I love you, and I don’t want to end our call like this. I know you don’t understand why I’m doing this, but this it’s something I need to do. I just hope that as my mom, you’ll support me.”
I swallow nervously, hoping she will let us end on a not so sour note. She is my mom after all. But after a minute, she doesn’t respond, so I give it one last attempt. “I’d love to spend Christmas Day with you all. Maybe I can fly back on the twenty-fifth?”
I hear her sigh before she finally answers. “Yes, well, it wouldn’t do to take our annual Christmas photo without my youngest daughter in it.”
I roll my eyes, but a smile tugs at my lips. I know that’s her way of saying she loves me, too.
“Thanks, Mom, I should let you go so I can focus on driving.”
“Alright, Holly. Goodbye.”
“Bye, Mom. Love you.” The phone disconnects, and I frown at her disapproving tone and quick exit.
I let out a deep sigh and try to push the conversation from my head. Dwelling on it won’t help anything.
Instead, I focus on my destination, Whispering Pines.
It’s one of several small towns located at the base of Blackpine Mountains in Montana, known all over the country for their Christmas decorating and activities.
The towns go all out with festive decorations, and there’s even a Christmas train that runs between them, playing Christmas music and offering holiday treats and drinks.
Since Christmas has always been my favorite time of year, partially thanks to my dad naming me Holly, I thought, what could be better than volunteering in Whispering Pines?
After spending the last two months working at the local hospice, I decided I wasn't cut out for that line of work. That’s what led me to decide I needed to get away from the busy streets of Chicago for a while.
The day after I left the hospice, I saw an ad for volunteers in Whispering Pines, the mountain town hosting this year’s Winter Festival. The photos made it look magical, and it felt like fate. So, I gave my landlord notice I was leaving and packed everything up.
I just hope this small mountain town is half as good as I envision it.
Two days later, I’m starting to worry about my decision.
“Shit, it’s really coming down,” I whisper to myself as my wiper blades try to keep up with the fast-falling snow. If I had known we were expecting this much snow, I might have spent another night at that hotel instead of trying to drive along this winding road for the last leg of my journey.
“If the snow can just hold out for the next hour, I should be in Whispering Pines by three.” Turning around isn’t really an option as the last town I passed is almost two hours behind me. It’s best just to keep going, slow and steady.
I keep my hands firmly on the steering wheel, and my eyes glued to the road ahead. That’s why it’s easy to notice the silhouette standing in the road waving their arms frantically. “What the heck?” I slow down and attempt to pull over onto the shoulder—or I should say, the lack of one.
A man in a black winter jacket, gloves, and hat drops his arms and points down to the road. I lean forward and realize there’s someone lying in the snow.
“Oh my God!” I gasp, grabbing my phone as I unbuckle my seatbelt. The man runs up to my door just as I swing it open. I jump out, boots slipping on the icy gravel.
“What happ—”
Something hard slams into the back of my head. Pain explodes behind my eyes. The world jerks sideways, and I hit the ground. My heartbeat roars in my ears.
I try to roll over, but a boot connects with my stomach. The air leaves me in a ragged cry. Another kick. Then, a shadow crouches beside me.
Dark brown eyes meet mine, cold and steady, right before his fist crashes into the side of my face. My vision flashes white. I open my mouth to scream, but another blow splits my lip.
Blackness swallows everything.
When I come to, the wind is howling, snow stinging my face. Two red taillights fade into the storm as my orange SUV disappears down the road.
For a heartbeat, I can’t tell if I’m breathing or dying. Then the snow begins to cover me as the blizzard slowly swallows the world, and me with it.
Continue reading in Broken by the Blizzard, available November 2026.