Page 60 of His Secret Santa
Holden restrained by Troy and Greg—and Mckenna on her knees about to blow him.
Jamie burst into action before Lincoln could get his bearings and let out a cry of rage, surging across the restroom. He shoved McKenna to the floor and jumped on Troy. Unlike Lincoln, Troy fought back and struck Jamie in the face, knocking him on his ass. The kid hit the floor and bounced right back up again, blood running from his nose.
Lincoln’s paralysis broke and he rushed into the fight, gut-punching Troy, dropping him to his knees before he could strike Jamie a second time. He turned on Greg who still had a grip on Holden’s arm and struck him with an uppercut. Greg’s head snapped back, and he released Holden as he stumbled sideways and hit the side of the nearest stall and went down.
“Get him out of here,” Lincoln ordered Jamie as he removed his suit jacket and tossed it aside, then unbuttoned his shirt cuffs and rolled up his sleeves. “I’ll take care of this.”
• • •
“Oh, my God—what happened?” Abby rushed to Jamie and Holden. She grabbed some napkins from the refreshment table and wiped Jamie’s face. “Who did this?”
“Troy,” Jamie muttered and took the napkins, pressing them to his bleeding nose.
Holden stood next to him, hugging himself and shaking, his head spinning. He turned numbly and looked back toward the restrooms; unable to compute what just happened in there.
His eyes shifted slowly to his best friend, bleeding into the napkin. Fresh tears formed. Jamie hadn’t hesitated to come to his rescue even though he was outnumbered by two guys bigger than him.
“Thank you,” he whispered, his chin trembling. “They could’ve really hurt you, and you still…”
Jamie looked at him, his eyes watery. “Would have really hurt me… if Lincoln hadn’t jumped in.”
Holden ducked his head and tears streamed down his face.
Lincoln fought for you.
“I’m sorry,” Jamie said thickly.
“For what?” Holden frowned.
“I told you nothing would happen to you at this party.”
Holden shook his head. “It wasn’t your fault.”
“It was those assholes’ fault,” Abby confirmed, vehement. “Who the hell do they think they are, that they can just do whatever they want to whoever they want—and walk away without consequence?”
Jamie smiled small. “I think they’re feeling the consequence.” He nodded toward the restroom.
Holden looked around. Lincoln emerged from the Men’s restroom, shirt scuffed, and hair messed.
“Ten! Nine! Eight!” The New Year’s countdown began.
The quarterback walked their way.
“Seven! Six! Five!”
As he came closer, Holden noted his bruised and bloody knuckles. He raised his eyes to Lincoln’s flushed face and the quarterback seized his stare, his eyes burning with a fire Holden had never seen before.
“Four! Three!”
Holden’s heart thumped wildly as Lincoln halted before him, chest heaving.
“Two!”
The quarterback cupped Holden’s face without a word—
“One!”
—and kissed Holden on the mouth.