Chapter 8 Christmas Morning
I woke up to someone breathing way too close to my face.
I opened one eye and found Jake staring at me with a soft, sleepy smile, close enough that I could feel the warmth of his breath.
“Hey,” he whispered. “Merry Christmas.”
I blinked at him. “Did you seriously wake me up like this?”
“I considered shaking you violently,” he murmured, “but this felt nicer.”
I groaned and buried my face in his shoulder. “Five more minutes.”
“Nope,” Josh said from behind me, voice low and warm. “Merry Christmas, baby girl.”
My heart flipped. “Merry Christmas,” I mumbled.
Drew appeared at the doorway, hair sticking up in soft, sleepy waves. “Cinnamon rolls are done,” he said. “And coffee.”
That was it. I shot upright. “Move. I require caffeine.”
Jake chuckled and rolled out of bed. “Priorities.”
We shuffled into the living room—me wrapped in a blanket, the boys in sweats and bed hair. The Christmas tree glowed softly in the corner, surrounded by way too many presents. Jake stood beside me like he was waiting for my reaction.
“You guys did all this?” I asked quietly.
Josh brushed his knuckles along my back. “First Christmas with you. Had to get it right.”
My chest tightened.
Patrick appeared from the kitchen with a mug of coffee and handed it straight to me. “Here, love.”
“Bless you.”
He didn’t react, but his eyes softened.
Jake was already sitting by the tree, hands resting casually on his knees like he was trying not to look too excited. Mike dropped onto the couch with a yawn. Drew settled beside him. Josh pulled me gently into his lap on the floor.
“Ready?” Jake asked, a hopeful smile tugging at his lips.
“Yeah,” I said. “Let’s do presents.”
Mike handed me the first one. “Start here.”
It was from Josh—a soft, oversized hoodie in a deep teal color with tiny stitched stars on the pocket.
“For when you steal my clothes,” he said.
“I do not steal—” I started.
He raised one eyebrow.
“Fine. Sometimes.”
Jake offered his gift next. He didn’t shove it at me or bounce—he held it out gently, thumb brushing the corner.
“Hope you like it,” he said.
Inside were bright green dinosaur slippers with little teeth.
“Oh my god,” I whispered.
“They roar when you walk,” he added sheepishly.
I squeezed one; it roared. “Jake. I love them.”
His smile warmed everything.
Drew handed me a slim book titled A Pocket Guide to Not Overthinking Everything. The pages were filled with his handwritten notes—simple reminders to breathe, rest, drink water, ask for help.
My throat got tight. “Drew…”
“You don’t have to use it,” he said quietly. “But it’s there.”
“Thank you,” I whispered.
Mike’s gift came next: toddler-style mittens connected with a long string.
“So you won’t lose another pair,” he said.
“I lost one pair,” I protested.
“One pair too many,” Mike countered.
Patrick placed his box last. Small. Velvet. My stomach flipped.
Inside was a slim silver band engraved on the inside with one word: Beloved.
I looked up, speech stuck somewhere in my chest.
“It’s not a symbol,” Patrick said softly. “Just a reminder. Of what you are to us.”
I blinked fast. “Patrick…”
Jake slid an arm around my shoulders, squeezing gently. “Christmas tears,” he murmured. “Very on-brand.”
“Shut up,” I sniffled.
Wrapping paper exploded around us as the guys exchanged gifts. Mike’s snow-globe kit detonated glitter across the rug. Drew pretended not to notice. Josh kept taking pictures, but refused to show anyone. Jake put a bow on his head, then on mine, then on Josh until Josh growled and threatened to confiscate the tape.
It was messy. Loud. Warm.
My favorite kind of chaos.
After the presents, Drew brought out cinnamon rolls the size of my face. The boys ate like they hadn’t seen food in weeks. I sat between Jake and Josh on the couch, leaning into both of them as I ate.
“This is really nice,” I said softly.
Josh kissed my temple. “Good.”
Jake bumped my shoulder lightly. “First Christmas with you. It had to be perfect.”
“It is,” I whispered.
Mike wiped frosting off my cheek with his thumb. “There you go, honey.”
“Thanks,” I said, cheeks burning.
Jake narrowed his eyes. “That was my job.”
“You were too slow,” Mike shot back.
Patrick set another log on the fire. “Are we building snowmen again later?”
Jake perked up a little, “If she wants to.”
I glanced at the window, where the snow was still falling thick and soft. “Yeah. I do.”
Drew stretched his legs out, watching me over the rim of his mug. “How’s your head today?”
“Better,” I said. “Really.”
Josh rested a hand on my thigh. “Good. Rest when you need to.”
“I will,” I said, rolling my eyes.
Jake nudged me. “He’s serious, Em.”
“I know,” I said, softer.
The boys settled around me like it was natural, like I had always belonged there. The fire crackled. The tree lights flickered. Outside, snow piled high and untouched.
Inside, everything felt warm and impossible and perfect.
I looked around at all five of them: Jake’s easy smile, Josh’s steady hand on my thigh, Drew’s quiet eyes, Mike’s lazy grin, and Patrick’s calm presence near the fire, and something in my chest settled.
Safe.
Wanted.
Home.
“Best Christmas ever,” I whispered before I could overthink it.
Five sets of eyes softened.
Jake leaned his head on my shoulder. “Yeah, Em,” he murmured. “Ours too.”