Chapter 6 Jingle Bat
JINGLE BAT
HOLDEN
Lilah was pissed over a PB & J? I dragged a hand down my face and turned away from her and the kitchen doors. I trudged to the lobby and leaned against a window frame. Outside, nothing but a sea of white greeted me, with no definition between the sky and the ground.
I used to have everything figured out. A lifetime ago, I was Holden West, The Olympic Hopeful. The untouchable golden boy. One of five heirs to the West Games empire. Media favorite. A chiseled jawline with a snowboard practically grafted to my feet like a gift from the gods.
Cameras loved me. Networks fought for interviews. Sponsors tripped over themselves to throw contracts and gear my way. I dated models. Made “Most Eligible Bachelor” lists I never asked to be on.
Then the fall came. Not a stumble, but a career-ending crash down a mountain during Olympic trials, broadcast across every sports channel, replayed in slow-motion like a cautionary tale.
One minute I was flying high. The next, I was a has-been with a trust fund, scars from multiple knee and leg operations I pretended weren’t there, and a string of relationships the tabloids cared about more than I ever did.
I drifted across mountains and continents, and from party to party, never taking life seriously. Until one Christmas, when the call about Dad came.
My throat tightened as I turned away from the window. Dad used to hate silence. Said it made him think too much. He was right.
Friends grew up. Married. Had kids. Life got quieter, not as much fun. Maybe that was why I built Snow Quest—because I needed something solid. Something to root me to the earth.
Griffin had taken over West Games, paid each of us handsomely to buy us out, got married, and started a family. I suddenly wanted that too—a foundation, a purpose, and a place to belong.
God, I hoped this wasn’t all a mistake. The lodge, the grand opening, hiring Lilah, believing I could run a business…
I stared at the grape-purple stains on my hands and clothes. I needed to do something before I lost my mind.
The storm moaned outside. Twinkle lights on the massive lobby tree flickered—off, on, steady again.
What had Rita said it needed? Tinsel. The boxes sat right there at the base of the tree. A ladder leaned nearby.
Sure, I’d throw some on. Perfect metaphor for my life. When down and out, don’t count me out, just throw some more fun on it.
“Looks like it’s just the two of us, Old Tree,” I muttered. Did other hotel chains name their trees each year?
I climbed up the ladder with a box of silver strands in hand. At the top, I searched the box. Not a single instruction. “How hard can this be?”
Tossing tinsel on the limbs was easy. Until something moved inside the branches.
I squinted for a look. Before I could identify it, a very alive creature launched itself at my face like it had a vendetta.
“A bat!” I screamed—a masculine, yet undeniably high-pitched scream.
Then it dive-bombed me, and I flailed. I lost my balance and fell forward into the tree—bringing the ladder with me.
The entire thing crashed to the floor with a sound loud enough to start an avalanche. The tree snapped. Ornaments exploded into a million glittering pieces. Lights fizzed and died.
“Fan-fucking-tastic!” I yelled.
Lilah burst out of the kitchen, eyes wide as she took in the destruction.
“What is this? A Christmas horror movie?” She planted her hands on her hips. “What did you do?”
“The tree attacked me.”
“Are you okay?” She rushed to my side, actually appearing genuinely concerned.
“No broken bones, I think. Face still intact. But feel free to give my body a once-over.” I winked.
“Great. Your ego survived.”
“You’re very comforting.” I tried to stand, carefully avoiding glass.
Her gaze flicked to the fallen tree. “Rita is going to kill you when she sees this.”
She disappeared, then returned thirty seconds later with a broom, a bucket, and a trash can.
“Here.” She shoved the broom at me. “Have fun cleaning up your mess. Try not to get attacked again—or there might not be a lodge left when everyone comes back.”
I took the broom, and my hand brushed hers. Electricity snapped between us.
Her breath hitched like she felt it too, but probably wouldn’t admit it. Then she pulled away.
“Wait,” I blurted before I could stop myself. “Lilah.”
“What?” She glanced back, arms crossed, annoyance dripping off of her like frost.
“I’m sorry.”
“I think Rita deserves that apology.”
“No—I mean, yes, she does—but I want to apologize to you for the past.”
“Not going there.” She shook her head.
The power cut out. Darkness swallowed the lobby. The only sounds were the wind howling outside, and Lilah’s gasp.
“Please tell me you have a generator, Holden.”
“Of course.” I pulled out my phone. “Three circuits. Lobby and kitchen, guest suites, service floor. They should kick on automatically.” We waited. My thumbs swiped through the apps to find the one for generators. “Any minute now.”
The power restored. What a relief?
I opened my mouth to say see?—but she was already walking away. Hair swinging. Hips swaying. Leaving me alone with shattered ornaments and pine needles in places they had no business being.
I stood there, broom in hand. Still warm where she’d touched me.
Snow Quest Lodge didn’t have to feel this empty on Christmas. If I could just figure out how to melt the glacier around Lilah Childs’ heart.