We round the corner?—
—and stop dead.
Like, full-on screech-to-a-halt.
Leo’s parents are already in the formal room.
Dressed to the nines. Coffee cups in hand. The tree lit. The fire roaring. And beneath the tree—mounds of presents. Too many. All wrapped. All pristine.
“Oh,” I whisper, cheeks instantly on fire.
I instinctively step back, every instinct screaming retreat, but Leo catches my hand and tugs me gently closer.
Before I can protest, his mother waves a manicured hand like this is the most normal thing in the world.
“Come on,” she says lightly. “Presents.”
I blink. “I— I wasn’t?—”
“They’re all for you.”
I freeze.
“What?” I croak.
Leo looks just as stunned as I feel. He turns to his mother slowly, brows knitting. “Mom?”
She lifts her cup, completely unfazed. “Don’t look at me like that. It’s Christmas.”
I glance at the pile again. My stomach twists. This is too much. Too fast. Too… Holt.
“I really don’t—” I start.
Leo squeezes my hand. Grounds me.
She meets my eyes then. Really meets them. No sharpness. No calculation. Just something quieter. Softer.
“You don’t owe us anything, Jade,” she says. “But we wanted you to know… you’re welcome here.”
Then she winks.
Actually winks.
I don’t know what to do with that.
Leo lets out a breath like he’s been holding it for years. He nudges me forward, low voice in my ear. “Just open one.”
I kneel by the tree, still half-convinced I’m dreaming. The paper rustles loud in the quiet room. Inside—nothing flashy. A scarf. Thick. Wool. Deep green.
“It’s beautiful,” I say, and I mean it.
More gifts follow. Books. Cozy things. Thoughtful things. Nothing loud. Nothing performative.
Something in my chest eases.
Maybe people really can change.
Or maybe this is just… trying.
