“It means I can keep the decorations up a bit longer,” she’d said with an easy smile.
“You keep them up until you need to decorate for Night of the Fallen, anyway,” Roman had pointed out with an indulgent eye roll.
Ian finally rolls over, squinting against the morning sun shining into my nest. “What’s all the fuss about?”
Simon drops a box down on the mattress beside him. “Get dressed.”
Ian slowly takes in the Yule pajamas Simon is wearing and the open box of matching pajamas on my lap, and a slow smile spreads across his handsome, sleepy face.
I owe Bethany the world’s biggest hug for including Ian in the festivities, for the boyish way his eyes sparkle as he rips the paper off the box. His mother and her alphas left him and his beta father when he was young, so he’s never experienced a pack Yule. I know he loves his beta father dearly, though they’re not related by blood, but there’s something special about being part of a big family on Yule morning.
I haven’t experienced such a Yule since I was nearly too young to remember it—before my mother left with her other alphas, leaving me to my father’s care. It was one of the last times I saw my father well and truly laugh. I shake off the memory and hop out of my nest, pulling off my pajamas to slip into the new ones. This is all new to Ian, but it’s practically new to me too, and I can’t wait to celebrate.
* * *
Cassian dragsus over to a sofa in the family room the moment we hit the bottom of the stairs, pressing homemade white chocolate mochas and plates of coffee cake into our hands. Luca budges over to make room for us and kisses me good morning before leaning back to show me his own Yule pajamas, grinning ear to ear as he shows them off.
I look around the room, and everyone is wearing them, Ellie and Melissa included.
Saints, my family wouldnever.
Just being here, surrounded by so many people who love and care for me, is present enough—but not to Bethany Leclerc.
Not only is there a box beneath the tree for Cassian’s friend Jack, despite my mate’s protests yesterday, but there are also presents for me, Luca, and Ian. Even though we landed on their doorstep as perfect strangers just over a day ago, Pack Leclerc treats us just like family.
Ellie passes out presents and drops a box on my lap with a snicker. The tag reads, “To Junes, From Bells” and I shoot her a curious look. “Don’t just look at it,” she tells me. “Open it!”
I tear away the paper and take the top of the box off to reveal the absolute ugliest Yule sweater I’ve ever seen. Saints, it has amooseon it, with real Yule lights tangled around its antlers. She boops the moose’s nose and the lights flicker on, flashing a rainbow of colors.
It’s abjectly, objectivelyhideous, but she looks so proud of herself for picking it out.
“It’s um…” What can I even say about it? “It’s very colorful. Thank you, Ellie.”
“What else do you like about it?” she presses.
I don’t have the heart to tell her I’ve never seen a single worse piece of clothing.
“The, uh, lights are very bright.”
Simon groans from across the room. “Belly, you’ve outdone yourself this year. Holy crap, this is the ugliest thing I’ve ever seen.”
I hold mine up, and Simon studies it, cocking his head.
“Huh,” he finally says. “I was wrong.Thatis the ugliest thing I’ve ever seen.”
“Oh, dear,” Bethany says. “I’m afraid I have to agree. You’re definitely going to win the ugly Yule sweater contest at the New Year’s Eve party. I thought for sure my sequined dancing penguins were going to do it this year, too.”
Ugly Yule sweater contest? Just like no one in my family would ever be caught dead in matching Yule pajamas, I can’t imagine a single Rose purposefully wearing an ugly sweater. It’s so… sosilly.
“You should have seen your face, Junie! ‘It’s very colorful.’ ‘The lights are very bright.’ Saints, you’re sonice,” she laughs. “I almost couldn’t keep a straight face!”
“Thank you, Ellie,” I say sweetly. “It’s hideous.”
“I’m still winning this year, though.”
I can’t even imagine what she’s picked out for herself.
Bethany’s taste in sweaters is much more refined. Ian unwraps a handsome slate-gray sweater that he immediately pulls on over his pajamas. Luca does the exact same with the soft flannel shirt he unwraps, but he leans over to whisper in my ear that I can definitely steal it later.
