Chapter 7 Christmas Eve
I woke up from what had to be the deepest sleep of my life, only to find Jake sitting cross-legged on the bed, staring at me.
“Oh no,” I whispered. “What do you want?”
"It's Christmas Eve," he whispered, wiggling his eyebrows at me.
I groaned and pulled the blanket over my head. “Too early.”
Mike immediately ripped the blanket away.
“Up, sweetheart. We have plans.”
“That’s terrifying,” I muttered.
Josh walked in carrying a plate. “I brought breakfast.”
“Oh. That’s less terrifying.”
I sat up, rubbing my eyes as Josh set the plate in my lap—pancakes shaped like snowflakes.
“You made these?” I asked.
“Drew did,” Josh said. “I supervised.”
Drew walked by holding a coffee. “I did not need supervision.”
“You absolutely did,” Mike said.
Patrick appeared in the doorway, arms crossed. “Eat first. Then gifts.”
I blinked. “Wait, gifts? For me?”
All five of them gave me the same look—like I’d just asked if the sky was blue.
“Of course, gifts for you,” Josh said, sitting beside me.
“But I didn’t get anything for—”
Jake stopped me. “Nope. Stop. It’s your first Christmas with us. You’re not buying anything.”
Patrick handed me a wrapped box before I could argue. “Open it.”
“Right now?”
“Yes,” all five said.
I laughed. “Okay, okay.”
I opened Patrick’s first. Inside was a small velvet pouch containing a silver key-shaped charm.
“It’s for your necklace,” he said quietly. “A reminder that you have a home with us.”
My chest tightened. “Patrick…”
His expression didn’t change, but his eyes softened. “Next.”
Jake shoved his box at me. His wrapping paper looked like it had been attacked by tape.
Inside was a hand-painted ornament of all six of us as stick-figure snowmen.
I burst out laughing. “Jake, this is adorable.”
“I made it myself!” he said, blushing.
“It… definitely looks like it,” Mike muttered.
“My turn,” Drew said, sliding his box over. Inside was a fuzzy weighted blanket.
“For when you’re anxious,” he said softly. “Or when we’re not home.”
I immediately wrapped it around my shoulders. “I love it.”
Mike flopped dramatically onto the bed. “Okay, my gift is clearly the best.”
He handed me a tiny box. Inside was a bracelet—simple, silver, with five charms.
Each charm was one of their initials.
My eyes burned instantly. “Mike…”
He smiled, much softer than usual. “Thought you’d like something small. Something you can wear every day.”
Then Josh handed me a final box. Square. Light. Wrapped perfectly.
“I’m scared,” I whispered.
“Good,” Mike said.
Inside was a small leather-bound journal with my name engraved on the cover.
“I noticed you never keep anything that’s just yours,” Josh said quietly. “I wanted you to have a place to put your thoughts. Not the ones you tell us. The ones you keep for yourself.”
My throat closed.
“Josh,” I whispered.
He brushed a tear from my cheek. “Do you like it?”
I launched myself at him. “I love it.”
Jake smiled.
Mike pretended to wipe a tear. Drew smiled into his coffee. Even Patrick’s mouth twitched like he almost smiled.
Almost.
We spent the next hour decorating the tree—Jake insisting his ornament go front and center, Mike arguing over the lights, Drew fixing things Jake had broken, Patrick reading instructions no one asked for, and Josh lifting me so I could put the star on top.
As soon as my feet hit the ground, Jake pulled me to him. " Movie time." He whispered in my ear, and I shivered.
“Let her sit for five minutes,” Drew said.
Josh handed me a blanket and pulled me into his lap on the couch. Drew sat on my other side. Mike stretched across the rug like he belonged in a calendar. Patrick leaned on the fireplace again, looking like a bodyguard hired to protect Santa.
Jake put on a movie that had exactly zero plot, but he laughed so hard every five minutes that it didn’t matter.
Halfway through, Mike nudged my foot. “You okay? You’re quiet.”
“I’m… happy,” I said softly.
Josh kissed my temple. “Good.”
Patrick watched me for a long moment, expression unreadable. Then he nodded once, like he’d been waiting for that answer all morning.
By evening, the whole cabin smelled like cinnamon and roasting chicken. Mike and Drew handled dinner while Josh kept me from sneaking tastes, and Jake accidentally set fire to the tablecloth while lighting the candles.
Even with the slightly singed tablecloth, everything looked perfect, warm, cozy, lit by the notorious candles.
After dinner, Josh pulled me aside near the window.
“Baby girl,” he said softly, brushing my cheek. “This is your first Christmas where you’re loved like this. I hope you know that.”
“I do,” I whispered. “I really do.”
The others joined us, crowding close, warm and solid and mine.
And somewhere between dessert and movie number four, I realized something:
This wasn’t just a vacation.
This wasn’t just a holiday.
This was home.
And I had five reasons why.