Snowed In With The Grinch

Chapter 12: Sparks and Spats

Holly slammed the door to Jack’s workshop harder than she intended. She wasn’t in the mood for him today, not after the morning she’d had. The marketing schedule for the Snow & Ice Festival was in shambles thanks to a last-minute vendor cancellation, and she’d spent the last two hours frantically rearranging timelines and redoing graphics. On top of that, she had barely slept the night before, her mind circling back to her strange, lingering thoughts about Jack and his snow sculpture.

And now, here she was, in Jack’s world of chaos and endless optimism, and it grated against every nerve she had left.

“You’re late,” Jack said casually, not looking up from the block of snow he was working on. He had a chisel in one hand and a brush in the other, and he moved with a kind of fluid grace that made her both impressed and irritated.

“Don’t start with me,” Holly snapped, dropping her bag onto the workbench with a loud thud.

Jack finally glanced up, his grin already forming. “Bad day, McAllister?”

Holly glared at him. “You have no idea.”

“Enlighten me,” Jack said, leaning against the sculpture with an exaggerated air of curiosity. “What could possibly ruin the day of the great Holly McAllister?”

Holly narrowed her eyes at him, her irritation bubbling dangerously close to the surface. “Oh, I don’t know, maybe the fact that the festival’s biggest vendor just canceled, and I had to completely rework our schedule while you were out here playing with snow.”

Jack’s grin faltered slightly, and Holly felt a flicker of satisfaction. But then he shrugged, his usual lightness returning. “Hey, if it makes you feel better, I wasn’t *just* playing with snow. I also managed to secure a new ice block delivery for tomorrow. You’re welcome.”

Holly blinked, caught off guard. “You did?”

“Yup,” Jack said, turning back to his sculpture. “But don’t worry, I won’t hold it over your head. Too much.”

Holly crossed her arms, her frustration still simmering. “You could have told me.”

“And miss out on this delightful conversation?” Jack teased, flashing her a grin over his shoulder.

Holly clenched her fists, her temper flaring. “You think everything is just a big joke, don’t you?”

Jack turned to face her fully, his grin fading into something closer to confusion. “What are you talking about?”

“This,” Holly said, gesturing to the workshop, the tools, the sculpture. “You’re out here acting like none of this matters, like it’s all just fun and games. Meanwhile, I’m the one actually trying to keep things together.”

Jack’s brow furrowed, and for a moment, he looked genuinely hurt. But then his expression hardened, and he crossed his arms. “You think I don’t care about the festival?”

“I think you care about the parts that are fun for you,” Holly shot back. “The rest of us have to deal with the real work.”

Jack stared at her, his jaw tightening. “You don’t know the first thing about what this means to me.”

“Then tell me,” Holly said, her voice rising. “Why do you care so much about a festival? About snow sculptures? What’s the point? It all melts in the end anyway.”

The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them, and the moment they hung in the air, she regretted them.

Jack’s expression darkened, and when he spoke, his voice was low and sharp. “You want to know what the point is? The point is that not everything has to last forever to matter. Sometimes, it’s about creating something beautiful, even if it’s only for a little while. But I wouldn’t expect someone like you to understand that.”

Holly flinched, his words hitting harder than she expected. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means you’re so busy tearing everything down, you can’t see what’s right in front of you,” Jack said, stepping closer. “You don’t get it because you don’t *want* to get it. You’d rather hide behind your cynicism than let yourself feel anything real.”

Holly’s chest tightened, her throat burning with a mix of anger and something dangerously close to shame. “At least I don’t live in some fantasy world where holiday magic fixes everything,” she snapped.

Jack’s eyes flashed, and for a moment, she thought he might actually yell. But instead, he shook his head, his voice dropping to a cold, quiet tone. “You know what, McAllister? If you hate it here so much, why don’t you just leave?”

Holly stared at him, stunned into silence. She wanted to argue, to fire back with something cutting, but all she could do was stand there, her pulse pounding in her ears.

Without another word, Jack turned back to his sculpture, his movements stiff and controlled. Holly watched him for a moment longer, then grabbed her bag and stormed out of the workshop, slamming the door behind her.

---

The cold air hit her like a slap to the face as she stepped outside, but it did little to cool her frustration. Holly stomped through the snow, her breath coming in short, angry bursts. How dare he? How *dare* he talk to her like that, like he had her all figured out?

But as her steps slowed, her anger began to unravel, leaving something else in its place. Guilt.

She thought about the way Jack’s face had changed when she’d dismissed his work, the hurt that had flashed in his eyes before he’d shut it down. He wasn’t just upset—he was wounded. And Holly couldn’t shake the feeling that she’d crossed a line she didn’t fully understand.

*Sometimes, it’s about creating something beautiful, even if it’s only for a little while.*

The words echoed in her mind, pulling at something deep inside her. She hated how much they got under her skin, how much they made her think about the things she tried so hard not to think about.

Shaking her head, Holly shoved her hands into her pockets and kept walking, trying to push Jack—and her own nagging guilt—out of her mind.

---

That night, Holly lay in bed, staring at the ceiling as the argument replayed in her head. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t stop thinking about the look on Jack’s face when she’d said it all melted in the end. She’d seen him annoyed before, frustrated, even exasperated. But this was different. This wasn’t about her pushing his buttons.

This was personal.

Holly turned onto her side, pulling the blanket tighter around her. She didn’t want to care. She didn’t want to feel bad for what she’d said, especially since Jack had thrown his fair share of barbs her way.

But she did.

With a sigh, Holly closed her eyes, hoping sleep would come quickly. But even as her body began to relax, her thoughts refused to settle.

*You don’t get it because you don’t want to get it.*

Maybe he was right. Maybe she didn’t want to get it. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t try.

---

The next morning, Holly stood outside Jack’s workshop, her breath visible in the frosty air as she worked up the courage to go inside. The tension from their argument still weighed heavily on her, but she knew she couldn’t leave things the way they were.

Taking a deep breath, she pushed the door open and stepped inside.

Jack was at the workbench, his back to her as he sketched something in a notebook. He didn’t look up when she entered, but his shoulders stiffened slightly, letting her know he’d heard her.

“Hey,” she said quietly, closing the door behind her.

Jack didn’t respond.

Holly hesitated, her fingers tightening around the strap of her bag. “I just… I wanted to say I’m sorry. For what I said yesterday.”

Still, Jack didn’t look at her, but his hand stilled on the page.

“I was out of line,” Holly continued, her voice soft. “I shouldn’t have dismissed your work like that. It’s… beautiful. And I can tell it means a lot to you.”

For a long moment, there was nothing but silence. Then, finally, Jack turned to face her. His expression was guarded, but there was a flicker of something softer in his eyes.

“Thanks,” he said quietly.

Holly nodded, unsure what else to say.

“You’re not the easiest person to work with, you know that?” Jack said, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips.

Holly let out a short laugh. “Right back at you.”

Jack chuckled, and just like that, the tension began to ease. It wasn’t a full reconciliation, but it was a start.

As Holly settled in at the workbench, she couldn’t help but feel like they’d turned a corner. And for the first time in a long time, she felt a tiny spark of hope.

Holly’s apology opens the door to a tentative truce with Jack, but both of them know there are still unresolved truths lingering beneath the surface.