“Will?” Damien’s voice, low, hesitant. “You okay in there?”
I swallow hard. “Yeah,” I manage, though my voice sounds thin, too bright. “Just—uh—washing up.”
“Well hurry up! You’re on carrot munching duty!” He calls, the door closing roughly behind him.
I linger in front of the mirror a moment longer, before hiding the pregnancy test in my bra, and tucking the box and instructions into the bottom of the trash can in the bathroom. Then I shut the light off and step quietly into the hall.
Downstairs, Cast’s carefully crafted “Santa tracks” trail through the living room—footsteps dusted in confectioner’s sugar leading from the fireplace to the tree . Half a cookie lies on the plate, an artful bite missing, and a few stray crumbs glint like stars against the wood floor.
I smile to myself and reach for one of the carrots left out for the reindeer.
“You’re supposed to leave some for Rudolph,” Damien’s voice murmurs behind me, low and teasing.
I turn, chewing, and find him leaning against the doorway, sleeves rolled up, his hair mussed from hours of sneaky decorating. There’s a faint dusting of powdered sugar on his forearm, and the sight makes me want to laugh.
“He’ll survive,” I say, setting the carrot down.
He smiles, the corners of his mouth softening, and crosses the room. “Come with me. I’ve got something for you.”
My brows lift. “It’s after midnight, Damien.”
“I know.” His voice dips quieter. “But I didn’t want to wait until morning.”
He takes my hand—warm, calloused, steady—and leads me toward the back of the house, past the quiet hum of the kitchen and through the glass doors that open to the covered porch. Outside, the night smells like pine and frost, the kind of cold that bites gently before settling into calm. Fairy lights that Cast must’ve strung up earlier shimmer along the beams, painting everything in soft gold.
Damien stops by the small table near the railing. There’s a folder there, tied with a ribbon, my name written across the front in his handwriting.
I glance from it to him, wary and curious. “What is this?”
He doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he steps closer, tucking a stray lock of hair behind my ear. His touch is careful, reverent. “Open it. It’s from all of us. I just won the right to tell you.”
I undo the ribbon and lift the flap. Inside are printed documents, official-looking pages with seals and signatures. My eyes scan the first line—and my breath catches.
The Willow Arts Scholarship Endowment Fund.
Located in Austin, Texas.
For young artists from low-income families.
Full tuition and housing coverage for up to four years.
My throat tightens. “Damien… what is this?”
He exhales, hands sliding into his pockets. “It’s yours,” he says softly. “Or rather—it’s for you. I wanted to do something that lasts. You’ve spent so much of yourself giving other people a chance to see beauty when you didn’t always have the time to chase it yourself. This—” He gestures toward the folder. “—is a way to make sure others get to. Kids who paint the way you used to in that tiny studio apartment, with nothing but a brush and a dream.”
I blink, tears stinging the corners of my eyes. “You set up a scholarship fund in my name?”
“Inyour honor,” he corrects gently. “The Willow Arts Scholarship. It’ll support younger artists who want to study fine arts in college—kids who couldn’t afford it otherwise. I already spoke to the university about it; it launches next semester.”
For a long moment, I can’t speak. The papers tremble slightly in my hands.
“You did this…” I start, then falter, my voice catching. “You did this forme?”
He nods. “For you. And for them. For everyone who believes art saves people, because it saved you—and it sure as hell saved me.”
My vision blurs. The night tilts warm and unreal. “Damien, I don’t even know what to say.”
“Say you’ll let yourself be proud of it,” he murmurs, reaching out to brush a tear from my cheek. “You’ve spent years supporting everyone else—me, Cast, Vincent, the kids—and I don’t tell you enough how much that means. I love you for that. For how you make space for everyone’s dreams, even when yours have to wait.”
