Livia's jaw dropped. She paged through, silent, only stopping when she reached a picture of the twins from last Halloween. Mere as a cheerleader, Fifi as a scarecrow. A tear slid down her cheek, and she wiped it away, not caring who saw.
Even Chance was knocked sideways. He hung over Livia's shoulder, traced each photo, then looked up at me with a warmth that nearly liquefied my knees.
"You did good," he said, soft enough that only I could catch it.
"I didn't do this," I said, nodding to the album. "I didn't even know they were doing it."
He squeezed my arm. "I didn't mean the gift. I meant the girls. They're wonderful."
Well. Okay. I swallowed thickly and bit back the tears. What a wonderful thing to say. I always thought my girls were fantastic, but it was really gratifying to hear someone else give me some kudos.
I had to move on or I was really going to cry. I pulled out the box with the gift I'd barely wrestled away from Huey and slid it across the rug to Chance.
He eyed the package, suspicious. "What is it? It's big."
"Just open it," I dared him.
He tore the paper and promptly burst out laughing. The world's biggest dragon plush snarled up at him.
Even Xavier grinned.
Chance wasn't shy about it. He hugged the dragon to his chest, then peered at me over its lumpy head, eyes bright with something wild.
"New mascot for the house," he declared.
I blushed, hard, I couldn't help it. The look he aimed at me was equal parts thank you and challenge. I didn't know if I wanted to hug him or run, so I settled for another cookie and prayed my cheeks didn't catch fire.
Huey broke the spell by launching himself at the dragon. It was a little bit bigger than he was, but that didn't stop him from tearing off up the stairs with it, both twins shrieking and going after him.
The rest of the night unraveled in slow motion. The fire snapped, the snow doubled its effort. Maeve, Livia, and Xavier sat by the tree, sorting through their own modest haul. Mostly books, candles, and a few batches of Maeve's jam. Once the dragon was well out of reach, Huey seemed content to patrol the perimeter, tail wagging as he checked the floor for dropped crumbs.
Chance sat by the fire, but his eyes shone goldand sharp in the dancing light. The look they gave me broke every old fear. It didn't matter that two months ago, I'd have called the whole thing a fever dream. Here, in this moment, I belonged.
Eventually, the twins thundered upstairs, arguing about what movie to watch this evening. I did one last lap of the house. Mugs rinsed in the sink, wrapping paper put away, Beth's kids' presents tucked under the tree.
Tomorrow, we'd play Santa with the littles. Beth's kids would wake up in a house where nobody yelled. My girls would wake up in a house where they could get training for their unusual gifts.
Worry still hummed under my skin. So much happening. SkyArc, dragons, the whole mess waiting outside our snow-globe glass, but down the hall, two kids and one overworked dog were snoring like champions. This time, Christmas Eve wasn't something to get through on hope. It was something worth guarding.
Tash
Christmas Day was normally family,food, and a kind of messy, lazy happiness that came from all three of us being together. This year, however? It was pure, high-alert chaos, sparkled with just enough cinnamon, sugar, and anxiety to keep my blood pressure in the stratosphere.
The Meyer house practically throbbed with warmth. The fire burned just right, every log laid perfectly, the flame burning low and hypnotic behind the old wrought iron grate. Pine and ginger and the faintest trace of baking hung in the air. Under it all, the Meyer living room looked like a family of raccoons had celebrated Christmas and left the messy aftermath behind.
Wrapping paper draped from the sofa arms, tinseldusted every inch of the rug, and empty mugs stacked like snowmen on the coffee table. The tree still glowed, even in daylight, heavy with ornaments and a half dozen new memories the twins had made overnight. Huey snoozed belly-up under the tree, reindeer sweater in place, dead to the world. Lola crouched on the landing, glaring at the universe with her full moon eyes, fur as white as the snow still falling against the windows.
If you wanted a picture of "perfect," this would've been it. Except for the secret keeping.
I'd spent the past hour tracking Fifi's every move without blinking. Every time she acted over the top, too loud, too bright, too much, I shot her a look. The one that meant, "cool it, please, for the love of all that is holy." Half the time, she caught me and rolled her eyes, but the other half, she didn't even notice, swept up in the sugar-high velocity that passed for normal in this house.
Gerty and Beth sat by the hearth, mugs in hand, plates balanced on their knees. Gerty chatted about Christmases past. Beth mostly listened, soft-eyed, a little lost in the dream of "safe holidays" and everything she and her kids were finally free to be. Their words braided with the crackle of fire, nothing forced, nothing faked.
Noteven a hint that the world outside this bubble had ever held anything as wild as dragons or magic.
They didn't know. They couldn't. And if I had my way, they never would.
But that meant I had to be on right now. Because my girls weren't used to keeping secrets.
