The Holly Hearth Romantic Comedy Collection

by K B Cinder

  “Hey, Raya!” Cass called as they entered the lobby, her voice cutting through the 90s R&B playing overhead.

  “Happy birthday!” I cheered. 

  Izzy looked at Cass with confused brows before facing me with a smile. “Thanks!”

  “Stay there!” I ordered, hurrying around the desk. “I’ll be right back!”

  I hurried to the break room, mindful that the phone could ring at any second and I was the only one running the front desk. The PetSmart bag was untouched, my handy-dandy stool sample note saving the day. I ripped it away along with the bag, uncovering the plastic container before hurrying back to the front.

  “I made you some goodies,” I announced, extending the container to Izzy.

  Gently, she accepted it, her face lighting up at its contents. “These are so pretty! You made these?”

  Cass bent her head to steal a glance, her jaw dropping. “Holy shit, Raya! Those are amazing. Are you a baker?”

  “I know my way around a piping bag,” I said, my heart swelling that she loved them. “Happy birthday again, Izz.”

  She smiled wide, showing off new pink bands in her braces that matched the ribbons in her hand. “Thank you so much! I love them! Can I take one home to Dad?”

  “Do whatever you want with them. They’re yours.” I moved back behind the desk, just in case that damn phone rang again. “Cass, just bring me back the container whenever.”

  “Will do,” Cass replied. “Can you hold on to these up here? We’ll be quick today. Our dad’s taking us to an early dinner before his work meeting. We’re playing hooky to go to Six Flags with him tomorrow!”

  “Sure.” I took the container to Izzy, who was still aglow. “Have fun. I haven’t been there in years.”

  I envied them, wishing my parents would’ve willingly played hooky with me. Especially for an amusement park trip.

  “I wish you could go with us,” Cass said flatly. “I’m going to be the odd one out.”

  I opened the next article, never imagining I’d be reading the news to pass the time. “No way. You’ll have a blast. Ride Kingda Ka for me.”

  Cass’s eyes shot wide. “You ride that thing?”

  I set the cupcake container next to my purse under the desk for safekeeping. “Uh, yeah. Who doesn’t?”

  The girls exchanged a look before Cass spoke. “That’s like four-hundred-feet tall.”

  “And?” I laughed. “You’re strapped in.”

  “I’ll think about it,” Cass said with narrowed eyes, though Izzy shook her head and mouthed no way behind her. 

  The girls headed to the back to fuss with the punching bags while I learned too much about weather patterns for one day courtesy of the forecast.

  Their giggles occasionally overshadowed the grunts of the burly men lifting weights, and once in a while I’d turned to catch the girls bent over in a fit of laughter. It made me miss Rini and Lita and the dumb shit we did as kids, like throwing a toilet paper fashion show late at night when we couldn’t sleep.

  Hollie, the college kid that covered till closing, showed up early, allowing me to slip away to be with the girls as they play-boxed around the ring and the last minutes of my shift wound down.

  I climbed in with them, standing just out of reach as the two went toe to toe.

  Cass wore the pads while Izzy donned boxing gloves and fired off blows, most of which hooked wildly and came nowhere close to hitting their target.

  Apparently Cass wasn’t the only sister that needed lessons.

  Every strike made Cass erupt into laughter, and as Izzy landed a wayward boob shot that even I felt, I joined in the hysteria.

  I wiped at the tears streaking my cheeks as the laughs kept coming while Cass got even by tickling the birthday girl silly.

  As she pulled away, satisfied with her handiwork, she froze, all the humor draining out of her. “Shit, Dad’s here.”

  “Dad!” Izzy waved her hands like an air traffic controller, but Cass swatted at her and shot a death glare.

  “Knock it off. He’s going to ruin it!”

  I turned, fully expecting to see some middle-aged grouch stomping over to shout at them for having fun, but was met with a baseball bat to the stomach in the form of six-feet of inked Rebel in jeans and a Nirvana tee.

  Lev Rebel.

  That Rebel.

  My Rebel.

  Rebel had kids.

  Big kids.

  Kids I liked.

  Holy shit.

  “Oh, fuck.” I couldn’t even hold it in, making both girls look at me in surprise.

  That sentiment echoed in his face as his eyes fell on me, the pools of sea-green flashing sheer panic for a split second as he stood on the other side of the cage.

  I was lost, stumbling on words in my head, but Izzy was all too happy to handle introductions. “Raya, this is our dad. Dad—this is Raya. She works up front.”

  I waited a heartbeat for him to speak before saying something, not wanting things to get weird and tip off the girls.

  “Hello,” I greeted, pretending as if we hadn’t screwed one another senseless at every chance. As if we didn’t blow up one another’s phones at all hours.

  He gave a slight wave, recovering from his temporary fog. “Hi.”

  “She made me unicorn cupcakes!” Izzy announced, pulling her hands from the boxing gloves.

  “Oh, wow,” he drawled, looking between me and his daughters slowly. “That’s really nice. Thanks.”

  I nodded. “Not a problem,” I said, struggling to swallow the frog in my throat.

  “Time to leave.” Cass wasn’t as chipper as her younger sister as she stripped out of the body pads. She threw each piece down to the ground, the fun from earlier wiped clean.

  “Don’t forget to ride Kingda Ka for me tomorrow,” I teased, hoping to lighten the mood, but there was no calming the teen who stomped to the edge of the cage.

  Merely the presence of her father flipped a switch, and my gut twisted, needing to know why. Rebel was always fun-loving. A ball buster, sure, but he didn’t seem all that strict.

  Look at the guy. He was covered in tattoos from head to toe. His arm said reckless. Papa’s arm would say nine o’clock bedtime, and I still loved him.

  Izzy surprised me with a hug rather than joining her sister right away. “She won’t; she’s a chicken. But thanks for the cupcakes, Raya.”

  My hands rested on her back, my eyes meeting a simmering Rebel over the top of her head. He went from startled to mad, and I wasn’t sure why.

  I hadn’t done anything. His girls came to my job. All I did was make them laugh. What was wrong with that?

  “Anytime.” 

  The twitch to his lip told me that wasn’t the case anymore. I doubted I’d get the chance to make her unicorn cupcakes again.

  I might not get to make her or Cass smile again, either, and Cass wouldn’t even get to call me old as much as I hated it.

  “Well, have fun at Six Flags tomorrow, Birthday Girl,” I said, squeezing Izzy’s shoulder gently for what might be the last time. “Let’s go grab your cupcakes from up front.”

  As we descended the steps, I didn’t recognize the man in front of me: Rebel the dad.

  Based on the man I knew, I figured he’d shunned responsibilities entirely, but yet again, life gave me an ass-kicking about appearances meaning nothing. Like that shiny Jaguar, he wasn’t what he seemed.

  “Girls, it’s time to go.” He forced out the words between clenched teeth, refusing to look at me.

  “Dad, what the hell?” Cass exploded. “I’m working out with my friend! You can’t just show up early and start bossing me around!”

  People noticed the fracas, eyes drifting over from workouts to the scene unfolding.

  Even Sage’s eyes joined the fray from where he stood just outside his office door.

  “Your friend?” Rebel balked, his eyes snapping to me like I was a monster. “Cass, you’re sixteen. She’s an adult.”

  “So w
hat?” she snarled. “Age doesn’t mean crap. She listens to me, unlike you. It’s nice to get advice that doesn’t come with a lecture or punishment.”

  He craned his neck at me, seething. “Oh, you give my kids advice now? You, of all people?”

  Ouch. That one took the wind out of me, and the girls didn’t miss it either, both looking to me for a followup I didn’t have.

  Rebel’s eyes moved back to his daughters, leaving me flopping like a dying fish. “Girls. Get it in the truck. Now.”

  “But my cupcakes…” Izzy trailed.

  “Get them from Hollie at the desk,” I said, cutting off Rebel before he could speak.

  She wouldn’t go home without her cupcakes, even if he was mad at me. I made them for her, and I hoped she and Cass would eat them all without sharing. He didn’t deserve my goddamn cupcakes.

  Izzy obeyed, following Cass, who’d already stormed off.

  “Why are you near my kids?” he demanded as soon as the girls were out of earshot.

  “They came to my job.”

  He crossed his arms, stretching to his full height and towering over me. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  I spied Sage beginning to come over, but I waved him off.

  “I didn’t know you had kids!” I snapped. “They were just two little girls that came in. Would you rather me yell at them?”

  This was ridiculous. He had no right to be mad at me for being nice to his kids. He should’ve been grateful that someone took the time to deal with Cass’s initial stampede of attitude and find a sweet girl under the cloud cover.

  “Don’t go near them again,” he warned, stepping back. “You crossed the line.”

  I threw my hands in the air, thoroughly exasperated. “How did I cross a line that I didn’t know existed?”

  I was the queen of stepping out of the lines, and I’d own doing it willingly. But for-fucking-once, I did nothing wrong, and I was still getting flak.

  He didn’t answer. He just turned and walked out like I wasn’t worthy of one.

  18

  Lev

  They say when you’re in quicksand, don’t panic. Struggling only makes it worse and hastens your demise.

  Despite that age-old advice, I was in an all-out panic after wading neck-deep into the sticky stuff.

  Seeing Raya near my girls took a sledgehammer to my nerves. The woman whose texts riddled my phone, ranging from harmless small talk to filthy banter that’d make a porn star blush, stood inches from the two people I loved most, bringing it all back into focus.

  Raya might not have seen it, but I saw the writing all over the wall, and it spelled disaster in big, bold letters.

  I was a police officer. I enforced the law. She was a woman who broke it, demonstrated by the plastic wrapped around her pretty little ankle.

  I had the answers of how she’d done that at my fingertips, but I wouldn’t look. It felt dirty to go behind her back, which was precisely why I knew I was in too deep.

  I was putting my dick’s interests ahead of everything else.

  The girls.

  My career.

  Common sense.

  I couldn’t any longer. What had started as casual fun had entered dangerous waters.

  I had one session left, starting in just over two hours, and I was done.

  Done with her.

  Done with mistakes.

  Done with trouble.

  As the girls bickered over how to say tiramisu across the diner booth, I stayed out of the cat fight to do what I should’ve done when I found that business card: Quit my vice.

  We can’t do this anymore. I’m sorry.

  I felt like the world’s biggest piece of shit typing out the text, and the waitress snooping over my shoulder obviously thought the same with a huff as she waited for the girls to place their dinner orders.

  But I sent it anyway.

  Rather than feeling relieved like all the times before, there was an unfamiliar heaviness to my chest that I couldn’t shake the rest of the meal. One that worsened when she didn’t answer me.

  Something that felt a lot like regret.

  19

  Raya

  Rebel: We can’t do this anymore. I’m sorry.

  I stared at the text for what felt like hours.

  How do you break up with someone you’re not even dating?

  Why did it ache like we had been?

  That morning, I’d started on such a high, excited to make a little girl’s big day that much brighter, but life still offered a low blow after the bell.

  I struggled through the rest of my shift, hearing the words echo in the back of my mind.

  I’d check my phone on and off, hoping he’d follow up once he cooled down, but he didn’t.

  Silence followed me home, Mama and Papa out for a day trip to New Hope antiquing. Not that they would’ve been much help. If I mentioned a word of what I’d been up to, they’d freak the fuck out.

  And my sisters would do the same.

  That left Gordo and Porco.

  I sat the chunks down on the sofa facing me, though Porco dozed off before I got settled into our impromptu confession before group. I needed to get it out before I exploded

  “So, before you two get upset, I’ve been seeing someone at group,” I started, looking between the ancient dogs that likely couldn’t hear a damn word I was saying, let alone understand.

  “Don’t look at me like that,” I warned, holding up a finger at Gordo, who’d gone bug-eyed.

  When I moved my hand, I realized it was because I was holding a treat, a stash in my lap brought to keep them content with listening to my bullshit. I offered it to him, waking up Porco in the process, so I gave him one too.

  “Anyway, it wasn’t anything serious. At least I thought not. It was just fun at first, for me, that is. It felt nice having that kind of connection again and not feeling like Frankenstein 24/7. And he was hot. Well, he still is.”

  Gordo seemed to sympathize with a head tilt, so I slipped him another treat. Porco promptly conked back out, his borderline sleep apnea and narcolepsy stealing one of my sounding boards.

  “He makes me laugh. And smile. And feel like someone cares.” I wiped at a surprise tear, the words stirring up troubles I thought I’d buried. “I don’t even know why, either. It’s not about the physical. I mean, it’s nice, but it’s not everything. I actually kinda looked forward to sessions, you know? And not just for the sex.”

  Now, for the first time since I’d started, I dreaded the weekly meeting, the start time feeling like a death sentence. I didn’t want to face him again after that text.

  “It wouldn’t suck as much if I’d done something wrong, you know? But all I did was make fucking cupcakes and be nice to his kids. How does that make me the bad guy?”

  I wiped at another tear, taking in a shaky breath. “Watching him walk out with them hurt. I barely even know those girls and I totally get Cass. I was her. Fuck, I still am half of the time.”

  I nestled into the couch, seeking its warmth. “Losing one or the other would’ve sucked, but both? I can’t deal with this right now.”

  I waved at my ankle; the monitor bared for the first time in ages thanks to shorts. I kept it covered at home, too, not wanting Mama and Papa to have a visual reminder every day, but it was warm outside, and dammit, I wanted to enjoy it before I changed for therapy.

  I reached down and tugged at the plastic, wishing I could escape its clutches. I needed to go out and breathe more than ever, and four weeks felt like a lifetime to wait.

  Being trapped like a rat only amplified the bad, making the loss destroy my new normal—the one that’d gotten me through the initial bumps in the road.

  As I slumped against the cushions and wiped at another tear, Gordo promptly began licking his balls, showing me exactly what he thought of my predicament.

  20

  Lev

  I showed up to my last group session late.

  Not that it mattered.

  I’d
been late to most of them, and Allegra was still at her desk as I walked in, oblivious to my existence while she thumbed through a stack of papers.

  Knockoff Jesus was texting away on his shattered phone as usual, while Benzo Girl was daydreaming of better days with a bit of spittle on her chin.

  In the middle sat Raya with her head held high, as confident and beautiful as ever.

  As ridiculous as it was after such a short time, I’d missed her.

  It’d only been a handful of hours since I’d left the gym with the girls and fired off that text, but the silence was deafening.

  Not literal silence since Cass chewed me out over embarrassing her in front of her friend.

  But there was an emptiness I hadn’t expected.

  I took my seat, keeping my eyes to myself, doing my best to ignore what I wanted in the seat next door. Her perfume teased, but I fought the good fight, holding my breath as needed. I’d pass the fuck out if I needed to. I wouldn’t fold.

  After a few minutes of mindless chatter between groupies, Allegra’s heels clicked to the whiteboard where she grabbed a red marker and wrote ownership on the board. She turned, holding the marker as she scanned the circle.

  “We’ve all made mistakes. Big ones. Small ones. Crazy ones. But the secret to overcoming them is owning them.”

  Son of a bitch.

  On all fucking days, it was not the day for that discussion.

  As shitty as things were, I wanted to go out celebrating the end of this level of my misery. It felt like the universe was trying to have the last laugh.

  “Owning a mistake allows you to learn from it,” she started, letting her eyes travel the half-circle rain before landing on me. “Rebel, what’s the last mistake you made that you learned from?”

  “I reacted before thinking,” I replied, not missing a beat. I hadn’t meant to bring anything about us up in group, but my mouth had other ideas, apparently.