Snowed In With The Grinch

Chapter 17: Walls Begin to Crack

The snowstorm continued into the next morning, with the same relentless fury as before. Holly pulled back the curtain in her room and stared out at the swirling wall of white. There was no sign of the street below—just an endless expanse of snow draped over rooftops, trees, and the lodge’s long driveway. She groaned, her breath fogging up the window.

For someone who had spent the last few weeks feeling stuck, it seemed especially cruel to now be literally trapped in this small-town winter wonderland.

The knock at her door startled her. She hesitated for a moment before calling, “Come in.”

Marjorie popped her head in, her cheeks pink and glowing like she was thriving on the chaos. “Good morning, dear! Still snowing cats and dogs, but don’t let it get you down. We’ve got pancakes in the dining room.”

Holly wasn’t hungry, but she also wasn’t ready to spend another minute sulking alone in her room. She sighed, throwing on her sweater. “I’ll be there.”

“That’s the spirit!” Marjorie said brightly before disappearing back down the hallway.

---

By the time Holly made it downstairs, the dining room was buzzing with activity. Families gathered around tables piled high with pancakes, while children in oversized sweaters giggled over cups of hot chocolate. The smell of maple syrup and fresh coffee filled the air, and Holly begrudgingly admitted to herself that it wasn’t the worst way to start a day.

She had barely reached the coffee station when Jack appeared out of nowhere, holding a spatula in one hand and a half-cooked pancake in the other. “Morning, McAllister,” he said, his grin already firmly in place. “Sleep well?”

“You’re cooking?” Holly asked, raising an eyebrow as she poured herself a cup of coffee.

“Helping,” Jack corrected, gesturing toward Marjorie, who was busy flipping pancakes on the griddle. “But don’t worry, I only burn half of them.”

“That’s reassuring,” Holly said dryly, taking a sip of her coffee.

Jack chuckled, leaning against the counter as he watched her. “You’re really not a morning person, are you?”

Holly gave him a flat look. “What gave it away?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Jack said, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “The scowl, the sarcasm, the way you’re clutching that coffee like it’s the only thing keeping you alive.”

“Don’t push your luck, Winters,” Holly warned, though her lips twitched into a reluctant smile.

Jack grinned, clearly pleased with himself. “Noted. Now, grab a plate. You can’t be grumpy on an empty stomach.”

---

After breakfast, Holly wandered into the sitting room, where the fire crackled warmly in the hearth. A group of kids had gathered in the corner, building what appeared to be a village of snowmen out of cotton balls and glitter. Holly made a beeline for the armchair by the window, hoping to steal a moment of peace.

But, of course, Jack found her within minutes.

“Thought you’d gone back to your room,” he said, dropping into the chair across from hers. He held a mug of coffee in one hand and what looked like a small, misshapen pancake in the other.

“Why would I do that when I can sit here and enjoy your delightful company?” Holly said, her tone dripping with sarcasm.

Jack laughed, leaning back in his chair. “See, that’s what I like about you, McAllister. You keep me on my toes.”

Holly rolled her eyes but didn’t respond. Instead, she stared out the window, watching as the snow continued to pile up outside.

“You know,” Jack said after a moment, his tone softening, “it’s not so bad. Being stuck here, I mean.”

Holly glanced at him, her brow furrowing. “Says the guy who thrives on small-town charm and Christmas cheer.”

Jack smiled faintly. “True. But even you have to admit, it’s kind of nice. No deadlines, no emails, no running around trying to prove something to someone.”

Holly frowned, his words hitting a little too close to home. “I’m not trying to prove anything.”

Jack raised an eyebrow. “Aren’t you?”

She bristled, her walls snapping back into place. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing,” Jack said, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “Just an observation.”

Holly glared at him, but she couldn’t deny the flicker of truth in his words. She hated how easily he seemed to see through her, how effortlessly he managed to chip away at the armor she’d spent years building.

“Maybe you should worry less about me and more about your snowman-building skills,” she said, changing the subject. “The one you made yesterday was barely passable.”

Jack chuckled, clearly unfazed by her deflection. “Careful, McAllister. You’re starting to sound like you’re having fun.”

---

By the afternoon, Holly was restless. She’d tried to bury herself in her work, but her laptop’s spotty internet connection made it impossible to focus. The kids in the sitting room had started a pillow fort war, and Marjorie was trying to convince everyone to join her for a round of charades.

Holly was just about to retreat to her room when Jack appeared at her side, his grin as infuriating as ever. “Come on,” he said, grabbing her coat from the back of her chair.

“What are you doing?” she asked, eyeing him suspiciously.

“We’re going outside,” Jack said, tossing her coat to her. “You look like you’re about to explode if you sit here any longer.”

“It’s a blizzard,” Holly pointed out.

“Exactly,” Jack said. “Perfect snowman weather.”

Holly groaned but followed him outside anyway, partly because she didn’t feel like arguing and partly because he wasn’t entirely wrong. She needed to move, to get some fresh air and burn off the restless energy buzzing in her chest.

---

The snow was deep, but the lodge’s front yard had been partially cleared, leaving a wide space perfect for snowman-building. Jack grabbed a handful of snow and started rolling it into a ball, his movements quick and confident.

“Come on, McAllister,” he called. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

Holly crossed her arms, watching him for a moment before sighing and crouching down to scoop up some snow. “Fine. But don’t expect me to be good at this.”

“Too late,” Jack said, his grin widening. “I already expect greatness.”

Holly shook her head but found herself smiling despite herself. As much as she hated to admit it, there was something strangely satisfying about rolling the snow into a ball, feeling its weight grow heavier with each pass across the yard. For a while, she forgot about the storm, about the lodge, about everything that had been weighing her down.

By the time they finished, their snowman stood over six feet tall, complete with a crooked carrot nose and a scarf Jack had borrowed from Marjorie. It was lopsided and slightly ridiculous, but Holly couldn’t help but laugh as she stepped back to admire their handiwork.

“Not bad, McAllister,” Jack said, brushing snow off his gloves. “You might have a future in this.”

“Don’t get used to it,” Holly replied, though her tone was lighter than usual.

Jack smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. For a moment, they stood there in the snow, the silence between them warm and comfortable.

“Thanks for coming out here,” Jack said suddenly, his voice softer than usual.

Holly blinked, caught off guard. “It’s just a snowman, Jack.”

“Maybe,” he said, his gaze steady. “But it’s nice to see you smile.”

Holly’s breath hitched, and she quickly looked away, her cheeks burning. “Don’t get used to that, either.”

Jack chuckled, but he didn’t push. Instead, he gestured toward the lodge. “Come on. Let’s go warm up. I think Marjorie’s making cocoa.”

Holly nodded, following him back inside. As they stepped into the warmth of the lodge, she couldn’t help but feel like something had shifted between them—something small but significant. And for the first time, she wasn’t sure if that scared her or not.

As Holly lets her guard down during a playful afternoon with Jack, she begins to realize that maybe—just maybe—being stuck in Snowfall Valley isn’t the worst thing that could’ve happened to her.