33. Holly
33
HOLLY
Snow sparkles off the glass panels of the mall as if someone dusted the place with crushed diamonds—an annoyingly romantic sight for someone juggling heartache with holiday shopping. Red and gold garlands loop around the windows, and bells tinkle from somewhere overhead. Festive music spills from every corner, but today, even the Mariah Carey classic sounds like a sad song.
Ridiculous.
I shift the shopping bags from one hand to the other, my fingers turning numb in the chill. I’m here on a mission, to grab last-minute items for the gala. No distractions.
“Need any help there?”
The voice is smooth yet unmistakably amused and when I turn around, I see it belongs to none other than the woman I saw with Ethan in the mall the last time I was here. She stands, draped in a scarf that probably cost more than most people’s rent, her coat pristine as if snowflakes dare not touch it.
“We don’t know each other.” I turn back to the supplies.
“You’re Ethan’s girlfriend, aren’t you?”
My hand freezes mid-reach toward a particularly festive wreath she’d been eyeing.
“And you’re the woman I saw with Ethan at the mall,” I keep my tone light but my brow arches just enough to signal I’m not about to play nice.
The woman’s expression flickers with something—guilt? Amusement? Hard to say. “Look, I can explain,” she says, voice tinged with a note of pleading.
“Oh, good, I’ve been dying for that.” My hand shifts to my hip, bags dangling, ready for whatever story she might try spinning.
We find a table in a nearby coffee shop. Mandy adjusts her scarf as though stalling, and for a second, I wonder if she’ll say anything at all. But she surprises me.
“I’m Mandy. Ethan’s cousin.”
My eyes narrow. “I already met with one of his cousins?—”
“That must be my brother, Jake. You should be wary of him.”
I lift my chin to see her face. “I don’t understand. Why are you even speaking to me?”
“Guilt,” she mumbles. “I wasn’t … completely honest with Ethan.” She takes a breath, glancing around as if afraid the Christmas decorations might rat her out. “I wanted something from Ethan, something financial, and I … I lied about my intentions.”
My mind races, pieces of past doubts sliding into place like a puzzle. "I still don’t understand.”
The coffee shop hums with chatter, a soft symphony of clinking mugs and the hiss of the espresso machine. Holiday garlands drape over the windows, their gold and red colors catching the winter light like glittering secrets. Mandy sits across from me, her fingers wrapped tightly around a chipped ceramic mug, eyes darting like a rabbit ready to bolt.
“So,” I say, breaking the silence that’s stretched too long. “What’s the story, Mandy? Why are you here, really?”
Mandy takes a shaky breath, her chest rising and falling as if she’s about to dive into a pool of ice water. “I came because you need to know the truth about Ethan. About us. The Carters.”
A shiver rolls down my spine, settling low and deep. The Carters. It sounds almost ominous, like something out of a dark fairy tale. “Go on.”
Her eyes, a shade lighter than Ethan’s stormy blues, flick up to meet mine. “Growing up, Ethan and David had it rough. My dad—Uncle Frank—and my brother Jake saw Ethan as a meal ticket, not family. The boys were used, constantly reminded that they owed us everything for taking them in after their parents died.” Her voice tightens, eyes glossing over with memories that seem too sharp to touch.
A pang of something hot and bitter coils in my chest. Images of Ethan, the quiet strength and the shadows that haunt the corners of his smiles, suddenly make too much sense.
“And David?” The question is a whisper, as fragile as spun sugar.
Mandy’s shoulders droop. “David was the soft one, always trying to keep the peace. But it wasn’t enough. The pressure broke him before that accident did.” Her voice cracks, and she looks away, eyes finding solace in the twinkling lights strung above us.
There’s a moment when the clatter of the café fades, and only the pulse in my ears remains, loud and insistent. “And Jake? What does he have to do with this?”
Mandy’s jaw tightens, lips pressing into a thin, pale line. “Jake’s been trying to ruin Ethan ever since he left Duluth. He never forgave him for escaping, for finding success. He’s teamed up with Raymond Blue, a reporter with a personal vendetta against Ethan. They asked me to help smear his name, to drag him down.”
A sharp intake of breath is all I can manage as the room tilts, the weight of her confession pressing down like a storm cloud. “And you said ... no?”
“I said no,” Mandy confirms, her voice stronger now, resolute. “I may be a Carter, but I’m not heartless. I know what Ethan’s been through. He deserves peace, not this mess.”
Something loosens in my chest, a tension I hadn’t realized was coiled there. “You should’ve told him,” I murmur, more to myself than to her.
Mandy’s smile is small, sad. “He’d never accept my help, not after everything. But he talked about you, you know.” Her gaze softens, and for a moment, the resemblance to Ethan is startling. “He spoke about you like you were ... home. I’ve never seen him light up like that.”
Tears prick the edges of my eyes, and I blink them away, the weight of guilt pressing down hard. All this time, I’d been looking at the idea of family through a shattered lens. It wasn’t that Ethan couldn’t love or didn’t want one. It was the scars from the one he already had that kept him guarded, wounded.
“I made a mistake,” the words tumble out, raw and heavy. My mind is already racing ahead, patching together the pieces, wondering if there’s still time to fix what’s been broken.
“Then go to him,” Mandy says, her tone urgent, a plea. “He’s more fragile than he looks.”
Mandy’s words are still heavy on my heart as I step in the sparkling event hall. The place looks like some high-end outpost of the North Pole, overflowing with fans, players, media types, and a ridiculous number of holiday wreaths. I weave through the crowd, my heartbeat racing faster with each step. It’s ironic—I spent way too long choosing this dress, an emerald-green one that fits me like it was custom-made, but all I can think about is him.
Just as I scan the room, Ryan steps into view, grinning in that sly, you’re-not-fooling-anyone way he’s perfected. “He’s around here somewhere,” he says, his voice carrying that teasing lilt. “Probably brooding in a corner. You know, star player attitude and all.”
I let out a half-chuckle, my stomach twisting with worry. “He’s not angry, is he?”
Ryan cocks an eyebrow. “Angry? No. Miserable? Definitely.” He pats my shoulder, like a gentle nudge forward. “You should talk to him, Holly.”
Before I can even nod, an all-too-familiar figure steps into my line of sight. Great. Just perfect. Jake Roland—dressed to the nines and oozing that “Hollywood heartthrob” energy he’s so obsessed with. He waltzes over, smirk firmly in place.
“Ah, Jake. What an unexpected nuisance,” I mutter.
His smile widens. “Always a pleasure, Holly.” He glances me up and down, his gaze lingering just a second too long. “You look … polished. Almost like you think you belong here.”
My fists clench, but I plaster on a calm expression. “I do belong here, Jake. If that’s shocking, feel free to find the exit.”
He leans in, his smirk growing more irritating by the second. “The big hockey star, huh? Ethan? Really scraping the bottom of the barrel, aren’t you?”
“Better the bottom of a barrel than the pit of an ego,” I snap, taking a step back. “And just so we’re clear—I love him.”
Jake’s face twists, and before I know it, his hand shoots out, gripping my arm a little too tightly. “You think a guy like him can give you what you need?” His voice is low, dangerous. “Because I promise you, Holly, he’s going to let you down—just like you let me down.”
Before I can wrench my arm free or even find words, another voice cuts through, sharp and cold.
“Get your hands off her.”
Ethan stands there, his eyes glinting like steel. Every line of him radiates a protective fury that could freeze the entire room. Jake drops my arm and takes a step back, sneering, but clearly nervous.
“This isn’t over, Holly,” he mutters.
“Actually, Jake,” I reply with the coldest smile I can muster, “it is.” I glance at Ethan, giving him a slight nod. I’m ready to let him handle this.
Suddenly, Jake lunges forward, but Ethan’s quicker. He steps out of the way, causing Jake’s projection to land him on the floor—hard. Everything blurs, and before I know it, the whole room erupts in chaos. Ryan and Liam dive in, pulling Ethan back just as Jake stumbles, clutching his nose. Cameras flash, phones are raised, and I stand there, heart pounding as Ethan is finally led away, his fury still simmering, uncontainable.
Lauren’s arm circles around me as she whispers. “Let’s get out of here.”
By the morning of Christmas Eve, social media is on fire. Articles, videos, memes—my feed’s turned into some twisted holiday montage. I’m staring at the screen in shock, disbelief churning into worry as the headline Blizzard Star Caught in Gala Brawl blazes up at me. I swallow hard.
Ethan’s suspension is everywhere, his career hanging by a thread, and I know I can’t just sit here and watch it happen. My phone buzzes—a message from Lauren:
We need to fix this.
I let out a breath, the worry in my chest hardening into pure resolve. Time to form a grand plan. It’s past due for someone to turn the tables on Raymond Blue, who’s been spreading Ethan’s so-called “scandals” with way too much glee.
Raymond, you’re about to lose the spotlight.
The plan’s straightforward: meet Raymond at a local café, dangle a few tempting tidbits about Ethan, then, when he’s all in, dig out the truth. My heart races as I slide into the booth, my phone discreetly hidden under my scarf, recording and ready.
Raymond strolls in, oblivious and smug, sliding into the seat across from me with his fingers tapping impatiently on the table.
“Miss Bennett. Let’s skip the pleasantries. What do you have for me?”
I give him my sweetest smile, with just enough venom. “I thought you’d like to know that Ethan Carter has a few skeletons in the closet.”
Raymond’s eyes light up, pure greed gleaming in them. “Oh, I bet he does.”
I lean in, lowering my voice conspiratorially. “Did you know he’s never once mentioned his family? Makes you wonder, doesn’t it?”
His grin grows, eyes flashing. “Oh, I know why. Ethan’s family? They’ve practically begged me to expose him. Seems even his own blood thinks he’s a fraud.”
Bingo. I can barely keep my satisfaction in check. “Go on, Raymond. What else?”
He laughs, dark and triumphant. “The guy thinks he’s untouchable. But I’ve got Jake Roland, and his own cousin. They’re handing me stories that’ll bury him. He doesn’t deserve the fame, the spotlight—it should’ve been mine.”
The confession, the jealousy—it’s all there, laid out perfectly. I let the recording run a few seconds longer, then pick up my phone and casually end it.
Raymond’s smirk falters as I tuck my phone into my bag, my own smile wide. “Thanks, Raymond. That was illuminating.”
His face goes pale as he realizes. “What did you just do?”
“Just helped the truth come out,” I say sweetly, standing up. “Enjoy your fame while it lasts, because it’s going to melt faster than a snowball in July.”
I stride out of the café, feeling lighter with every step. The truth is finally on my side, and, with any luck, Ethan will be, too.