Chapter 15 Holly
HOLLY
Holly stood on one side of the half-finished guest room, paintbrush in hand, while Jack measured the window frame on the opposite wall. Logan was somewhere in between, installing crown molding with the careful precision that came from years of woodworking experience.
The atmosphere was polite. Professional. And absolutely suffocating.
“What do you think about the trim color?” Jack asked, his voice carefully neutral. “The antique white or the cream?”
“Either would work,” Holly said, equally careful. “Though the cream might complement the wallpaper better.”
“Cream it is,” Jack said, making a note on his clipboard.
Logan glanced between them, his expression suggesting he was acutely aware of the tension crackling through the room like static electricity. But he said nothing, just returned his attention to the crown molding.
This was how it had been for two days now.
Polite conversation. Careful suggestions about paint colors, furniture placement, and which fixtures would work best in each room.
They were working together beautifully on the surface.
Still, beneath the surface, Holly felt like she was walking on eggshells, constantly aware of Jack’s presence and the growing distance between them.
“We still have four more rooms to finish,” Logan said, stepping back to examine his work. “At the rate we’re going, we won’t get them done before Christmas week.”
“We can’t cut corners,” Jack said firmly. “These rooms need to be perfect. The inn’s reputation depends on it.”
“I agree,” Holly added quickly. “But maybe we need to come up with a better plan. A way to work more efficiently without sacrificing quality.”
They all stood there for a moment, looking around the room with critical eyes.
It was beautiful—or it would be when it was finished.
But it was also taking far too long. Every detail was being agonized over, every decision taking twice as long as it should because Holly and Jack could barely have a conversation that lasted more than three sentences.
Logan’s stomach rumbled loudly in the silence, and his phone buzzed a moment later. He pulled it out and smiled slightly.
“Charlie wants to know where I am for lunch,” Logan said, tucking his phone back in his pocket. “I have to go. I’ll be back in an hour.” He looked pointedly at both of them. “You two should get something to eat too. Maybe you’ll be more creative on full stomachs.”
Holly watched Logan gather his tools and head for the door. As it closed behind him, the silence in the room became even more oppressive. She and Jack were alone for the first time in two days, and Holly felt her heart racing with anxiety and guilt.
She had been trying to talk to Jack since yesterday morning.
Trying to find the right moment to tell him about meeting Simon, to explain what had happened, to clear the air between them.
But something kept getting in the way. Julie needing help with something.
Trinity asking for her grandmother. The phone ringing.
Guests are checking in. A dozen small interruptions had prevented them from having a single private conversation.
And now here they were, finally alone, and Holly did not know how to begin.
Jack set down his clipboard and headed toward the door. “I should grab some lunch. We can pick this up when Logan gets back.”
He was leaving. He was not even going to ask her to join him for lunch. The distance between them had grown so wide that they could not even share a meal anymore.
“Jack, wait,” Holly said, the words tumbling out before she could stop them.
Jack stopped at the doorway and turned back to face her. His expression was guarded, walls up in a way they had not been a week ago.
“I need to talk to you,” Holly said, setting down her own paintbrush with trembling hands.
“About what?” Jack asked, his tone carefully neutral.
Holly took a deep breath. She had been planning this conversation for two days, trying to find the right words, the right way to explain. But now that the moment was here, all her carefully prepared speeches fled her mind.
“About Simon,” Holly blurted out. “I met with him. Yesterday. Charlie was with me. He wanted to meet, and I thought if I could talk to him, I could find out what he really wanted. And I needed him to finally sign the divorce papers—”
“You’re only telling me this now?” Jack interrupted, his voice rising slightly. “You met him yesterday at lunchtime already.”
Holly felt her stomach drop. The way he said it, the knowledge in his voice.
“How do you know I met him yesterday at lunchtime?” she asked, suspicion creeping into her tone.
She hadn’t told him a time or a place. She had just been about to explain that Simon had messaged her, and Charlie had set up the meeting, and it had all happened so fast.
“I saw you,” Jack said flatly.
“You saw me?” Holly’s confusion instantly morphed into anger. She heard the accusation in his voice, felt the judgment radiating from him. “You were spying on me?”
“No,” Jack hissed, his own anger flaring to match hers. “I was in town getting supplies for this room when I saw you and Simon coming out of the Corner Café.”
“But you didn’t say anything,” Holly accused, hurt flooding through her. “You saw me and you just... what? Assumed the worst? Decided I was betraying you?”
“I was hoping you’d tell me,” Jack said, his voice tight. “I gave you two days to tell me, Holly. Two days.”
“I’m telling you now,” Holly shot back, her voice rising. “And I tried to talk to you numerous times yesterday and today, but we haven’t had any alone time. Every time I tried, something interrupted us.”
The anger boiling inside her overflowed. How could he stand there staring at her with judgment in his eyes? How could he think so little of her after everything they had shared?
“I’m not your ex,” Holly spat, the words coming out sharper than she intended. “I don’t lie and manipulate people. And if you weren’t so busy dealing with her—”
“Don’t bring Pamela into this,” Jack cut her off, his voice hard.
They both knew they were just hurt and angry, lashing out because it felt safer than admitting how scared they were of losing what they had barely begun to build. But they were too far into their hurt now, too deep in the mistrust that had been festering for two days.
“You had plenty of time to tell me between then and now,” Jack continued, his voice rising. “You could have said, ‘We need to talk, alone.’ You could have made it happen.”
“I tried numerous times,” Holly hit back, tears of frustration burning behind her eyes. “But you had to either go attend to your ex-wife or run off somewhere else.”
She pulled off her work gloves and slapped them on the counter with more force than necessary. The sound echoed in the half-finished room.
“So much for being open and honest,” Holly said, her voice breaking slightly. “You haven’t even told me yet why your ex-wife is hovering around all of a sudden. Why does she keep showing up here demanding to talk to you?”
Holly spun to walk out of the room, needing to escape before she said something she would really regret. But Jack grabbed her arm and pulled her back.
“Holly, I—”
Their eyes met and held. Holly saw her own hurt and anger reflected in Jack’s face, but underneath it, she saw something else. Fear. Longing. The same desperate need she felt to bridge the gap that had opened between them.
Then, before either of them knew what was happening, Jack’s lips were on hers.
The kiss was not gentle or tentative. It was desperate and hungry, born of two days of tension and misunderstanding, and missing each other despite being in the same building.
Holly melted into him, her hands coming up to grip his shirt, pulling him closer.
The anger transformed into something else entirely, something that made her heart race and her knees weak.
The world faded around them. The half-finished room, the paint cans, the tension. All of it disappeared until there was nothing but Jack’s lips on hers, his arms around her, the feeling of coming home after being lost.
A door slammed somewhere in the distance, the sound sharp enough to penetrate their bubble. They pulled apart abruptly, both breathing hard, staring at each other in the awkward silence that followed.
“Holly,” Jack said, his voice hoarse. “I’m truly sorry for being such an idiot. I let my insecurities blind me, and for that, I’m truly sorry.”
Holly was still reeling from the kiss, her lips tingling, her heart pounding so hard she could hear it in her ears. She just nodded, not able to trust her voice right now. Not able to form coherent words when all she could think about was how much she wanted him to kiss her again.
Jack stared at her, waiting for what felt like forever. The silence stretched between them, heavy with unspoken words and complicated emotions.
Holly cleared her throat, trying to find her equilibrium again. “I’m sorry too,” she managed to say. “I should have told you right away when Simon messaged me. I should have made time to talk to you privately instead of assuming we’d find a moment.”
Jack ran a hand through his hair, looking as shaken as Holly felt. “Pamela is here because she thinks she might have given Jane a hereditary disease,” he said, the words tumbling out now that they were finally being honest with each other. “Jane got tested yesterday.”
“Oh no,” Holly’s hand instantly reached out and touched his arm, her anger forgotten in the face of his worry for his daughter. “I’m sorry, Jack. That must be terrifying for both of you.”
“Gabe has been a rock for her,” Jack admitted, and Holly could hear the gratitude in his voice. “I’m so grateful he’s here. That Jane has someone who understands what she’s going through.”
“Oh,” Holly said, her brows knitting together as pieces clicked into place. “Yes, I saw them together a few times.”
She felt a rush of guilt wash over her. She had been so preoccupied with Simon and her own problems that she hadn’t even realized what was happening with Jane.
Hadn’t noticed that Jack’s daughter was going through something serious.
Hadn’t offered support or asked if there was anything she could do to help.
“When will she get the results?” Holly asked.
“A few days,” Jack said. “Maybe sooner. The waiting is the hardest part.”
They stood there in the middle of the half-finished room, close enough to touch but not quite touching, both processing everything that had just happened. The fight. The kiss. The confessions.
“What did Simon want?” Jack asked finally, his voice quieter now. “When you met with him?”
Holly took a breath, gathering her thoughts. “He wanted me to spy on you. To find out who’s been helping your family fight the sale of the inn. He offered to sign the divorce papers immediately if I would tell him who’s been holding things up.”
Jack’s jaw clenched. “And what did you say?”
“I told him no,” Holly said firmly. “I told him there was no deal. That I wasn’t going to betray you or your family for his convenience.” She met Jack’s eyes directly. “And then I told him that you were ten times the man he could ever hope to be.”
Something in Jack’s expression softened. “You said that?”
“I said that and more,” Holly admitted. “I might have torn into him a bit about how you’re honest and honorable and actually care about people instead of just using them.
If Charlie wasn’t there and we weren’t in a crowded cafe, I’m not sure what I would’ve done.
All I wanted to do was slap his arrogant smile off his face. ”
A small smile tugged at the corner of Jack’s mouth. “I would have liked to see that.”
“It was not my finest moment,” Holly said with a slight laugh. “But it felt good. Really good. To finally tell Simon exactly what I thought of him and his manipulations.”
“Good,” Jack said. He reached out and took Holly’s hand, his thumb rubbing gentle circles on her palm. “I’m sorry I doubted you. Sorry, I saw you with Simon and immediately assumed the worst instead of trusting what I know about you.”
“And I’m sorry I didn’t tell you right away,” Holly said. “I thought I was protecting you, not adding to your stress. But I see now that keeping it from you just made things worse.”
They stood there holding hands in the middle of the paint-splattered room, the air between them slowly clearing of the tension and mistrust that had been building for two days.
“We’re not very good at this, are we?” Jack said with a rueful smile. “The communication thing.”
“We’re both carrying a lot of baggage,” Holly said. “Both scared of being hurt again. It makes us do stupid things like keep secrets and jump to conclusions.”
“We need to do better,” Jack said firmly. “If this—” he gestured between them, “—is going to work, we need to actually talk to each other. Even when it’s uncomfortable. Especially when it’s uncomfortable.”
“Agreed,” Holly said. “No more secrets. No more assumptions. We talk, even if it’s hard.”
Jack pulled her closer, wrapping his arms around her. Holly leaned into his embrace, feeling the solid warmth of him, breathing in the scent of sawdust and paint and something that was just Jack.
“I really like you, Holly Bennett,” Jack murmured into her hair. “More than I’ve liked anyone in a very long time. And it scares me how much.”
“I really like you, too, Jack Christmas,” Holly admitted. “And it terrifies me.”
They stood there holding each other, both acknowledging their fear while also choosing to move forward despite it. It was not a grand romantic gesture. It was not a declaration of love or a promise of forever. But it was real and honest, and right now, that was enough.
“We should probably eat something,” Jack said eventually, though he made no move to let her go. “Logan was right about being more creative on full stomachs.”
“Probably,” Holly agreed, but she did not pull away either.
They stayed there for another moment, just holding each other in the quiet room, both grateful that they had finally been honest. That they had fought and kissed and apologized and chosen to trust each other despite their fears.
It was not perfect. They still had a long way to go. But it was a start.
And sometimes, a start was all you needed.