“GALEN!”
Esme’s screech has every eye in the room turning to me.
Parents. Teachers.
Sab.
Sawdust in his beard, he’s wedged onto a narrow bench, Tam at his side, but I don’t look at him, not straight away.
I gaze at her instead—Esme—with her crooked halo and the too-big white robe, and the fierce unfiltered grin that never fails to make me feel ten feet tall.
Love this kid so fecking much.
I toss her a wink and slide into the space Tam has made for me, catching the warm grin that seems out of place with the scruffy hair and face tattoos, if you don’t know the man.
I’m thankful I do. That he calls mebrotherwhen he’s drunk, and brings me lunch when I’m sleeping off a night shift and Sab’s at work. I mean, he also grasses me up to Bhodi when he thinks I need a talking-to about the grumpy bastard that lives in my shoulder, but I’ll take it.
The singing starts and it’s fecking terrible. Off-key under the bright lights, a donkey missing its tail, and Christ knows what the Three Wise Men are on about.
I love it.
All of it.
I love it so much I don’t remember when I stopped hating Christmas music, and good memories replaced the bad. Just that it happened, and here we are. HereIam, sandwiched between the Dubois lads with every inch of my leg pressed to Sab’s, floating on a cloud of domestic perfection.
Best days of my life.
It’s true. Logan thinks I’ve had a lobotomy, and he doesn’t seem too upset about it.
The nativity plays out, and the crush of adults in the small space begins to thin. Tam stays, though, catching Esme as she comes barrelling out of the backstage area, wonky halo sliding sideways, eyes bright with excitement. Because it’s Wednesday and she’s going home with Uncle Tam to spend the night with Rudy in her bed.
Doesn’t stop her climbing Sab and planting a smacker on his cheek. As if she knows his answering smile is my favourite thing in the world.
He murmurs to her in French. No idea what he’s saying. BeyondI love you, I haven’t learned a word. My brain doesn’t bend that way, and I don’t mind. I love everything about this miraculous life, even the parts that aren’t for me.
Tam and Esme go home to Stardust Lane.
Sab and I walk back to his house, fresh show falling around us, shoulders brushing with every step.
He’s quiet, but I’ve come to learn he is sometimes. As if the frenetic energy he carries most days needs a fecking breather.
Quiet doesn’t equal sad.
I nudge him.
He smiles. “She was so happy you made it.”
Esme.
The nativity.
“Makes two of us.” I smile too. “Christmas miracle, eh?”
“Another one?”
“Can’t have too many, though I don’t think I knew what happy meant until you two stole my heart. You finish that job on Bell Street?”
Sab stares at me a little harder. A little deeper. Then he shrugs, zero signs of stress in his face. “No, but it’ll keep.”
