The Holly Hearth Romantic Comedy Collection

by K B Cinder

  Not saying something would look just as guilty as seeming interested, right?

  “It was clear of any bleeds or fractures. He failed the concussion test, though, so he’s on desk duty for two weeks.”

  “That’s better than I thought,” I breathed, tracing nervous figure-eights on my napkin with my nail. “At least he’s okay.”

  “For now.”

  I wanted to ask where Dash was but kept my mouth shut, not willing to push my luck. Especially tipsy.

  Pop walked in with the turkey, making his first appearance since Babcia’s arrival. He was smart enough to stay down in the den where evil couldn’t spread. At least without a stairlift.

  “I heard the police whooped the fire department today,” Mom laughed as she set down a dish of candied yams on the buffet. “What was the final score, Sage?”

  It was obvious Sage would rather be getting a prostate exam than talk about any of it, but he couldn’t ignore Mom like he did me. Not if he wanted to eat. “Dash got the text as I dropped him off at the fire station: six to zero.”

  “He’s at the station by himself?” Mom asked in disbelief, facing Sage with her hands on her hips. “Why didn’t you bring him here, you ass?”

  Sage shrugged as he grabbed a square of cornbread from the tray in front of us. “He’s working tonight.”

  Mom set down a serving spoon with a loud clack. “After a concussion? Jesus! They could give the man the night off for crying out loud!”

  While Mom fell for his schtick, I knew Sage was full of it at a glance. “You left him there on Thanksgiving with a concussion? Was anyone there? He shouldn’t be alone.”

  Medical degree or not, I’d seen enough medical dramas to know that much.

  Sage bristled at my words. “There were plenty of people waiting for their fallen knight. Do you want me to drive you over to get in line to kiss the ground he walks on?”

  “Do you always have to be such a raging dick?” I shot back, making Babcia’s penciled brows raise nearly to her hairline.

  Oops.

  “Why are you two at each other’s throats all of a sudden?” Mom asked, taking her seat at the other end of the table. “It’s Thanksgiving. You should be thankful you have one another. You could be an only child like me.”

  Sage tore his cornbread in half, crumbs flinging everywhere. “Juni is being a pain in the ass, as usual.”

  I threw my hands in the air as I whirled to face him. “You’re impossible! You’ve been ready to chop my head off all day over nothing! Don’t take it out on me because you had to cut your flirt session short! Your friend got hurt! Maybe you should focus on that instead of yourself!”

  Pop smacked a hand down loudly, all eyes darting toward him at the head of the table. The massive roasted turkey sat in front of him on a serving tray, a meat fork stuck in crookedly. “Can you two cut it out? You’re killing the bird.”

  “Yeah!” Mom agreed with a grin. “Watch Pop carve the turkey. Juni, pay close attention for next time!”

  I leaned back in my chair with a groan, convinced I was related to nothing but crazies.

  One plate of food, two pie slices, and a goblet of wine later, I lay curled in my childhood bedroom with Pierogi, the same pink blankets I’d used as a teenager pulled over me.

  The room was unchanged since I moved out for college, the same bubblegum pink walls and fluffy white area rug greeting me. A mix of posters spread across the walls with My Little Pony and Queen the standout stars.

  Mom had long joked that she would convert my room into a walk-in closet when I moved out, but that never happened. She hadn’t touched Sage’s room, either. I knew it was a way for her to hold onto her babies. If it weren’t for Pierogi, she probably would have gone bonkers.

  The little bugger was snoring beside me, his ridiculous ear bows discarded in the trash where they belonged. As for his sweater, it remained in place, too cute to remove.

  Mom and Pop left to drive Babcia home, Pop’s desperate attempts at dodging the task shot down mercilessly. He made out like a bandit in the end, really, as Mom agreed to see a sci-fi movie in theaters on the way home.

  Sage didn’t stick around after, leaving without saying goodbye to me. It sucked, but that was Sage. Hopefully it’d all blow over, and he’d be fine in the morning.

  That left me alone with my thoughts, a dangerous place for a drunk girl on a holiday.

  I’d texted Karine to let her know my plans after dessert, making sure she wouldn’t wait up for me. It also gave her the clear to get some sexy time in if she wanted, not that she would.

  Every part of me wanted to text Brandon of all people, suddenly missing him once alone. I wasn’t sure why, seeing that he was a grade-A dirtbag.

  Maybe it was the holiday feels floating in my head.

  Maybe I wanted to know why he cheated on me. I was always a glutton for punishment.

  Or maybe I was just stupid. I’d put my money on that one.

  I didn’t owe him the energy it took to think his name, let alone a text. Maybe my psyche was hellbent on making another poor life choice. I’d gone, what? Six hours without making one? That was probably a record.

  A tear jumped from one eye, and then the other, streaking down my cheeks as I mulled over the last few days. Every stupid decision. Every betrayal. Both Brandon’s and mine.

  I’d gone behind my brother’s back just like Brandon had done to me. I was no different. What I’d done would hurt someone I loved too. Not as harshly, sure, but he’d be hurt nonetheless. Especially since it was Dash.

  No matter how many times I tried to blink them back, the tears kept coming. The pain needed an escape. I couldn’t keep it bottled in any longer.

  So I let it go.

  I cried myself to sleep, Pierogi nestled close by my side.

  The holidays were sure getting off to a great start.

  8

  The boom of Biggie from my cell abruptly ended a particularly delicious dream starring a trident-carrying superhero. Right before he showed me his aqua dick, too.

  I popped my eyes open only to close them just as fast, the sunlight streaming through the parted curtains blinding.

  As the phone kept ringing, I opened one eye slowly, seeing 8:01 AM glowing on my bedside clock.

  What kind of monster called people at eight o’clock on a Monday morning?

  Someone that wanted an earful.

  Or a school.

  I sprang up, launching from my comforter cave toward the phone charging on my dresser. I was butt-ass naked and totally frog-voiced, but I didn’t care. It would be a damn Christmas miracle come early if a school was calling so soon after applying.

  I’d spent the weekend completing applications, venturing far beyond my one-hour-or-less commute limit. I couldn’t be picky with a financial guillotine hanging over my head in the form of a mortgage, car payment, and student loans.

  I answered without checking who it was, not wanting to start off the call disappointed if it wasn’t one of my preferred districts.

  “Good morning, this is Juniper Mullen.”

  God I sounded awful. No one would want a kindergarten teacher that could pass for a Tasmanian devil.

  I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the full-size mirror on the back of my door and died a little more, my hair a rumpled mound of brown while my boobs hung freely, a sheet wrapped around my waist in a cape. I looked like a porn star superhero.

  Thank God it wasn’t a video call.

  “Juni, where the hell are you?” barked the last person on Earth I expected it to be - Brandon.

  I jumped at his voice, heart dropping right passed my stomach and down to my toes. “Excuse me?”

  “Where are you? Why aren’t you at work?” His voice was sharp, slicing and dicing at me through the phone.

  I took a deep breath, checking my phone to make sure he wasn’t calling from the school’s system. The damn thing recorded every word. I didn’t need him holding tapes over me.

  Luckily, he
was calling from his cell phone.

  “Uh, last I checked, you fired me. You know, right after I caught you filling up your new side piece with your brand of premium fuel?”

  Great. He’d found a way to fire me without rousing suspicion, after all. He would write me in as a no call/no show to get his way.

  “Calm down, Juni! Do you have to be so bitter and crude?”

  I flung away a lump of hair that tumbled over my eyes, my heart threatening to pound out of my chest. “Are you kidding me, Brandon? You have a lot of nerve…”

  He cut me off, his voice laced with venom. “Get dressed, and get in here! Everyone thinks you were out for a death in the family!”

  I wanted to tell him to take the job and shove it, but the bills on the kitchen counter said otherwise.

  I missed my kiddies, too.

  “Only on one condition,” I warned, ripping the sheet off to stand there in all my naked glory. He couldn’t see me, but dammit, I felt powerful.

  “And that is?” His tone was so condescending I wanted to throttle him.

  “You never speak to me again.”

  It might be impractical with him being my boss and all, but I didn’t care. When things inevitably went south with his new Malibu Barbie, I wouldn’t welcome him back into my Dreamhouse. Closing the communication door ensured it.

  “Done.”

  And the fucker hung up on me.

  I walked in the front doors of Honey Hills Elementary an hour later with my head held high. I blew right by the main office without a second thought, too.

  Protocol was to check in with Finger if you were late, but he could eat a bag of dicks for all I cared. Actually, he could eat two.

  I nodded in passing to a few colleagues, mainly first-year teachers still learning the ropes of our school, and therefore, nice to everyone. They had yet to get trampled by the staff and kids alike. Soon they’d be as frantic as the rest of us.

  “Ms. Mullen?”

  I turned to see Linda White, a third-grade teacher I occasionally chatted with in the lounge waving to get my attention. Her collection of charm bracelets jingled wildly, reminding me of the tags on Pierogi’s collar.

  I waved back and waited for her to catch up, grateful to see a friendly face rather than Finger.

  She offered a warm hug, her expression solemn. “I’m so sorry to hear about your Great Aunt Gherkin.”

  Great Aunt Gherkin? Like a fucking pickle? That was the best Finger could come up with? Ugh.

  I dipped my head in thanks, unsure of what to say. God knows what else Finger told them about this Great Aunt Gherkin of mine. She could have been pickled to death for all I knew. Moron.

  Some people might be grateful for the lie, happy to have a job. But I knew I wasn’t there because he was being nice. I was there because firing me risked his ass.

  “I’m so sorry I didn’t attend the service. I didn’t see a posting in the lounge, and Mr. Finger announced it was family only.”

  What the hell was I supposed to say to that? She looked at me with nothing but compassion in her eyes, and I felt like the world’s biggest piece of crap for the lie. A lie I didn’t even create.

  I nodded solemnly. “Thank you so much for thinking about us. I really appreciate it.”

  She squeezed my forearm gently, her sparkly peach nails matching the series of rings across her fingers. “Do you want to do lunch together today? My treat?”

  I didn’t deserve her kindness. Not after that lie.

  But I welcomed any distractions from Finger. From Dash. From Sage. From myself.

  I was tempted to text Dash all weekend, but I chickened out.

  “Sure. I’ll pop into your classroom.” I couldn’t wait for noon to roll around, my stomach already growling. I hadn’t had time to eat breakfast, running naked from the phone to the shower, not even caring if Karine saw my goodies.

  “Great. I’ll see you then.” She continued her journey toward the main office I’d just stomped by, jingling all the way.

  Most people wouldn’t want to spend the day with fourteen five-year-olds, but I couldn’t wait, practically skipping down the hall to my classroom.

  My heart must have grown six sizes at the sight of my door, the leaf border I’d made still framing it, Ms. Mullen’s Pumpkin Patch scrawled with pictures of each of my kiddies in a pumpkin they drew. Just looking at it made me feel guilty about ever applying at another school.

  I opened the door to find Mrs. Summers reading for story time. She was a substitute teacher who’d been there since I was their size.

  I slipped in unnoticed, grabbing a seat at the back of the classroom to listen in. She didn’t do the fun voices I did as she read, but Mrs. Summers was an improv super star, ad-libbing as she saw fit to spice up the story. Who knew adding floaty marshmallows to Goldilocks’ porridge could be so funny to a bunch of five-year-olds?

  I took an inventory of the room with my eyes as I listened, surprised to see it wasn’t that disorganized despite my absence. Everything was mostly where I’d left it. Even the stupid fake gold rose Finger bought me was untouched, laying across my desk like a tacky headstone for our relationship.

  “And they lived happily ever after!” Mrs. Summers proclaimed, always one to give stories the ending even if they book didn’t actually say it.

  It was a shame she couldn’t narrate my life and talk one into reality for me.

  Her eyes fell on my face and instantly lit up. “Oh, my, look who’s here, children!”

  “Ms. M!” they all seemed to cry in unison, hopping to their feet to rush to me, a hug landing from every direction.

  “Class, don’t you have something for Ms. M?” Mrs. Summers asked as she shuffled over from the reading rug, a hideous piece I found on clearance that happened to resemble a magic carpet - tassels and all.

  The group sprinted to their wall cubbies at the reminder, the pounding and squeaking of sneakers filling the air.

  The most soft-spoken of my kiddies, Raven, was the first to reach me with her cubby offering - a card clutched in her tiny fist.

  “Is this for me?”

  She nodded as she handed it to me, her crooked red pigtails hanging on for dear life.

  On the crinkled cover, there was a hand-drawn cat with a big, fluffy tail. As I flipped it open, I had to blink back tears at the words written crookedly inside: “Don’t cry. Your aunt is with my cat, Fuzz. He was a good cat. She will like him.”

  I tried desperately to keep a lid on the tears. I didn’t deserve her kindness. I didn’t deserve anyone’s. Not after going along with the ridiculous dead aunt story. “I’m so sorry about Fuzz.”

  Raven fussed with an oversized buckle on her overalls, her teeth sunk into her bottom lip. Well, tooth. One of the front ones had bit the dust during snack time a few weeks back. “It’s okay. He was very old.”

  I smiled at the freckle-faced cutie, my formerly frozen heart defrosting.

  Who knew going back to work could make someone feel better?

  Linda and I ate at the diner, downing burgers and a vat of sweet potato fries I’d sell an ovary for.

  She didn’t bring up my fictional dead aunt between bites and, in turn, and I didn’t have to lie.

  There were no cemeteries to make up. No funeral homes. No eulogies. Nada. It was glorious.

  What wasn’t glorious was the almighty mother of all gossip she shared. The gossip I already knew up close and personal. Finger was boning Clare.

  For a split second, I wanted to scream at her about bringing up my ex until I remembered she didn’t know we’d been a thing. No one at the school did.

  We’d always been discreet, both fearing for our jobs. Only our family and close friends knew. We discussed the what ifs, sure, like how he’d be the one to find a new job if things got more serious. He wasn’t as attached to Honey Hills as I was, and our superintendent wasn’t retiring to make room for him anytime soon, so it made sense. He could have his career, and I could have mine.

  Now th
e jackass was gallivanting around with his new plaything. Linda saw the two smooching in his car after school the Wednesday before, but anyone who lived in town could have seen them at the Thanksgiving game.

  Despite the twisting in my guts, I played dumb. I knew Linda well, but I didn’t trust her enough to not repeat anything. Teachers were worse gossips than students.

  Afterward, we went our separate ways in the school parking lot, her needing a smoke before heading back to her class from hell, while I headed to the lounge for a hot tea.

  But I didn’t have a chance to grab it. Brandon was waiting for me in the vestibule.

  I intended to ignore the sorry sack of lies and keep walking, but he stopped me in my tracks, gesturing to follow him into the main office.

  I initially refused, but one hard look told me that whatever it was, it was serious.

  I followed but maintained a distance, my eyes focused everywhere but on the perfect ass that had once been mine.

  The ass I thought was mine.

  Who knew how many others had a squeeze of it while we were dating?

  He shut the door behind us once we reached his office and waved an arm for me to sit, and reluctantly, I did.

  Not because I wanted to. But because three sides of his office were lined in glass windows looking out at the main office, at least a half a dozen people in view at any given time. It was more of a fishbowl than a private lair.

  So I sat. With a scowl, but my butt was still in the flimsy office chair and giving him a small victory.

  I cocked a brow, his handsome face sharp with anger as he sat across from me. “Did I not make myself clear on the phone?” I asked.

  “Quit the shit, Juni.”

  “Did you call me in here to be a dick?” I asked, pushing to stand. “Because I’m not here to be your verbal punching bag, Brandon. I’m here to work.”

  “Juni, sit the fuck down.” He said it through clenched teeth, his knuckles white as he squeezed the edge of his desk. “We need to talk. Now.”

  “Then talk!” I fired back. “Even though I made the whole don’t fucking talk to me thing abundantly clear.”