13. Holly
13
HOLLY
The silence in the house this morning sits heavy, like a storm cloud refusing to move. There’s a weird tension in the air — the kind that makes the house feel smaller and every creak in the floor magnified by ten.
I’d stayed up last night, waiting for the sound of his footsteps in the hall until he stumbled back through the door. One glance showed me that Ethan isn’t just brooding—he’s fully leaning into it. His usual ice-king aura has turned into full-on glacier mode. So, I woke up early and worked my butt off to make the kitchen as warm as possible— pancakes on the griddle, coffee brewing. The plan is to go for a morning that feels super cozy. But I’m doubtful whether even pancakes can sweeten the tension lingering in the air.
Ethan walks in, silent as a ghost, his usual swagger buried under layers of whatever he’s refusing to talk about. No eye contact, and just two words: “Good morning.” He quickly grabs his jacket like the kitchen—and the person standing in it—doesn’t exist.
His refusal to speak and the stone-cold wall of indifference isn’t helping the frustration building like a pressure cooker inside me, waiting to explode.
“Everything okay?” My question spills out, not because it’ll fix anything, but because there’s nothing else to do. The silence is unbearable. Surely, he can’t keep up this emotional disappearing act forever.
Ethan freezes mid-reach for his jacket, the faintest pause before continuing like the question barely registered. “Fine,” comes the gruff reply. He’s already halfway out the door, his voice distant, barely there. "Just got to go."
His body language screams “don’t ask.” The stiff movements, the clenched jaw—every bit of him shows avoidance. I should give in—just let him sulk like a spoiled, petulant kid. Should be easy, really, because the plan from the start was to ignore my annoying housemate—but that was all before the kiss that night, and the many more things.
“You won’t even get breakfast?” The words roll out, tinged with disbelief. “I busted my gut getting this ready.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know you prepared all this for me.” He walks to the table and grabs a fork like he’s got better things to do than exist in the same space.
There’s no point beating around the bush.
“So ... are you going to tell me what’s going on, or do I have to guess?” The words come out sharper than intended, but I mean, come on. He can’t act like this and expect me to stay cool.
Ethan stops eating, turns slightly, but his eyes never meet mine. “I’ve got a lot going on.”
There it is. The famous Ethan Carter brush-off. Hockey star, king of the ice, and champion of avoiding emotions. His shoulders are hunched like he’s carrying the weight of the world, but sharing? Not in his playbook.
“Well, maybe if you talked about it, it wouldn’t feel like so much,” I say, refusing to let him escape that easily.
A flicker of something—guilt, maybe? —crosses his face, but it’s gone in a second, replaced by the familiar mask of indifference. “It’s not your problem.”
That does it. Arms cross tightly, trying to keep the frustration from spilling over. “The least you can do is try to let me in on what’s bothering you instead of walking around like Batman without a cape.”
Finally, the phone slips back into his pocket, and he exhales like it’s the first breath he’s taken all day. “It’s not about you, okay?”
Oh, so now we’re doing vague deflection? Cool. “Could’ve fooled me.”
He pushes off the table, arms flexing under his shirt in that stupid, distracting way. “You wouldn’t get it.”
“Ah, yes. I’m too simple to understand what’s going on in that brooding, hockey-smashed head of yours.”
I immediately regret my words when his jaw sets. This isn’t going anywhere.
“I’m not in the mood for this, Holly.” He turns, running a hand through his hair in that frustrated, slow-motion way that would have butterflies fluttering in my belly if we weren’t in this weird standoff.
No kidding . Taking a breath, trying for a softer approach, in a typical compromise and all that adult stuff manner, I say, “I’m just trying to help, Ethan. But you keep shutting me out.”
This is getting old.
His eyes snap back to mine, cold, guarded. “What do you want from me? I said it’s not about you.”
Heat rises to my cheeks. He’s never going to trust me enough to let me in, is he? I feel like a steel wall is slapped right between us. “Not about me? Ethan, you’re making it sound like I’m making your life harder by asking.”
He sighs, eyes shifting to the floor. “Look, I’ll deal with my stuff. You don’t have to fix it.”
Oh, of course. It’s my bad for being the nagging event planner who’s trying to fix a man who doesn’t even want anyone close.
“Okay. Fine. I’d appreciate you not showing up at the Charity Decorate-a-Tree Contest today if you’re going to be this moody and not give it your best.”
Ethan grabs his keys, his movements stiff. “You’re talking about the tree decorating thing for the fans? You know I’ve got no choice.”
Oh, the tree decorating thing. Hearing that tone about something I spent hours organizing feels like a slap in the face.
“Yeah, the tree thing I’ve been working my ass off to put on. Glad to see you’re so excited.”
He winces slightly, but doesn’t back down. “You know it’s not my thing.”
The patience that’s been hanging by a thread snaps. “Then maybe don’t bother showing up, like I said, if you’re just going to half-ass it,” I snap, the words out before they can be reined in.
That gets his attention. Ethan turns, finally, his icy blue eyes locking onto mine. “Don’t push, Holly. This whole thing is complicated enough without mixing personal and professional.”
“Oh, right.” A dry bitter laugh escapes my throat. “You don’t need to bother. ‘Cause there’s nothing personal going on here.” I wave my hand between us.
His mouth opens, but nothing comes out. The silence stretches, thick with unspoken words, until I’ve had enough. “Don’t bother showing up if you’re going to bring your emotional baggage with you. The fans don’t need it.”
Grabbing the coat off the back of the chair, I storm out, slamming the door hard enough to rattle the walls and windows. Good. Maybe it’ll shake him out of whatever emotional coma he’s in.
The area around the stadium is a Christmas explosion. Trees line the hallways, decked in twinkling lights, miniature Blizzards jerseys, and hockey pucks hanging like ornaments. Kids from local schools and non-profits mill around, wide-eyed, dragging their parents and teachers from one festively adorned tree to the next.
I’m standing near the main entrance, clutching my clipboard tighter than necessary because it’s the only thing keeping my nerves in check. The whole event is a mix of chaos and cheer, and somehow, it’s all on my shoulders to not let the Christmas pucks fall–as Reid put it.
Lauren appears at my side, handing me the coffee in hand, her usual calm therapist face on. “Everything okay? You look like you’re about to throw up.”
I sputter a forced laugh. “That obvious, huh?” The clipboard gets another grip adjustment. “Just, you know, trying to make sure the tree contest doesn’t turn into a disaster.”
“Disaster? This?” Lauren gestures around at the glittering trees and the excited kids. “It’s a hit. Everyone’s loving it. You need to relax.”
Relaxing isn’t an option. I missed out on my calming yoga session because of a certain annoying distancer I live with. He’s set on the bad vibes and now my worries are out here brooding like a dark cloud threatening to rain all over this carefully planned Christmas parade.
“You’re doing great, by the way,” she insists, sliding a grin my way.
“Am I, though?” The words come out shaky, as I glance around the arena again, watching the controlled chaos unfold. “I feel like I’m one hot glue gun mishap away from a nervous breakdown.”
Lauren snickers, scribbling something on her clipboard. “Relax. You’ve got this. All the trees are still standing, so that’s a win.”
“Small victories,” I mutter, eyes darting around the rink. It’s going well, sure, but there’s always that nagging voice in the back of my head saying something’s about to go wrong.
Before Lauren can ask more questions, the event kicks off, the emcee’s voice raging over the speakers. Families and small business owners rush to their assigned players, chatting excitedly as the decorating begins. The joy is infectious, and for a moment, the tension slips away, replaced by the simple joy of watching kids laugh and players get tangled in garlands.
“Gotta go find my tree and partner.”
I nod. “Me too.”
Out of the corner of my eye, Liam Callahan jogs over, wearing a Santa hat that’s just a little too big for his head and shows me a name card. “Think I’m your partner. Ready to decorate?” His grin’s wide, and there’s a bounce in his step that says he’s way too excited for this.
“Let’s do it,” I say, forcing a smile, because Liam’s actually trying to make this fun. We head over to our tree—second from the left, next to a group of kids who are practically drowning in tinsel.
“So, what’s the plan?” Liam asks, pulling out a box of ornaments that look like mini hockey pucks.
“Let’s keep it simple,” I nod toward the box. “I’m thinking a classic ‘less is more’ vibe, with a little hockey flair.”
“Classic.” He winks. “I like it.”
We get to work, hanging the ornaments, laughing as he accidentally drops one that bounces right off a kid’s helmet and rolls under the tree. Liam’s puppy-dog energy is exactly what’s needed right now. No brooding, no emotional walls—just pure, unfiltered excitement. Maybe this day won’t be so bad after all.
Things are actually going smoothly— until a shadow falls across us.
His presence sends a shiver down my spine before he even speaks. “Mind if we swap?”
The tinsel in my hand freezes mid-loop. Turning slowly, heart sinking, there he is. Ethan— in all his brooding glory. “What are you doing here?”
A casual shrug, but the tension in his jaw gives him away. “Thought I’d help.”
Liam, oblivious to the undercurrents between us, grins like the golden retriever he is. “Sure, man! Take my place. I’ll go help the kids with the giant star.”
My eyes close as Liam disappears, leaving Ethan standing there with his hands shoved in his pockets, looking every bit like he’s been battling with himself the whole time and just lost.
Too late for thawing.
I cross my arms. “Didn’t think you wanted to be seen with me.”
His jaw tightens, but he doesn’t leave. “I didn’t mean it like that.”
“Sure sounded like you did.” I make no attempt to hide the sarcasm, and yet, he still stands there. Biting my lip, I turn around and go back to work.
Decorating continues in strained silence, the tension between us thicker than the garland on the tree. Ethan tries to help, our hands brushing as he hands me stuff. I hold in the little thrill running through me, until he leans over to help with the top branch beyond my reach. His crotch brushes my ass.
Finally, it’s too much. The mini hockey jersey in my hand gets slapped onto the tree with more force than necessary before I turn to him. “Why are you here, Ethan? I don’t want you following me around.”
He meets my gaze, and there’s something soft in his eyes. “Because I don’t want to mess this up.”
Those words land harder than expected, knocking the wind out of my frustration. “Mess what up?”
“This.” His voice is quiet, but there’s weight behind it. “Whatever this is.”
For a second, the world tilts. Ethan, talking about feelings? This feels like an alternate reality.
My defenses start to crumble, just a little. “Ethan, you don’t get to just show up and expect everything to be okay. You don’t get to flip-flop like this.”
“I know,” he says, stepping closer. His hands reach for the garland but freeze, fingers flexing. “I’m not used to this. Opening up. It’s crazy, and I thought about it, but you being mad at me is scarier.”
“I scare you?”
He nods. “And you also pull me in,” he steps closer, the tension between us shifting. “I’m just ... I don’t know how to balance this. Us. Work. Everything.”
For a moment, the noise of the arena fades, and it’s just the two of us, standing in front of a half-decorated tree, caught in this weird limbo between we’re more than coworkers and what the hell are we doing .
“I get it,” my voice is softer now. “But if we’re going to make this work, we need to figure it out together.”
“I know.” He sighs, his breath warm in the chilled air. “I’ll do better, I promise.”
Those words crack the last bit of ice, the raw honesty catching me off guard. The fight drains, replaced by something warmer, something hopeful. He steps even closer, his eyes holding an intensity that makes it hard to breathe.
“I don’t want to lose you.”
Before another word can be spoken, his lips are on mine, soft yet insistent. The noise of the stadium, the chatter of kids and families, all of it fades into the background as the world narrows to just us. The warmth of him, his touch sparks thrills through my spine, I wrap myself around him, angling my head to give him better access to my lips—the walls have come down.
Loud footsteps round the bend We break the kiss and I pull him behind the tree just in time to avoid being caught by a group of kids dragging more tinsel toward us.
Stifling a giggle, I mumble. "We can’t get caught here.”
Ethan flashes, that rare, heart-stopping grin that’s been missing for far too long. “Wanna continue this later? At home?”
“Maybe,” I mumble, still breathless from the kiss.
We hear a loud ahem from behind, Lauren appears, clapping her hands and flashing a smile. “Where were you, boss lady?”
The heat in my cheeks is impossible to hide as I watch him walk away.
“See you blushing. Now I want to know what you’ve been up to.” She turns toward the direction I’m looking but I drag her away before she can see Ethan.
“Come help me.”
“Alright. And hey,” she gives me a nudge. “You nailed this event, by the way. Feeling good?”
I glance around the arena, watching as the trees take shape, the laughter and chatter filling the space. A soft, private smile, and the answer comes easier than expected.
“Better than I expected.”
And for the first time today, it feels true.