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I screw up my face, and he points a spatula at me.

“Just sit there looking hot, and you’ll see.”

That draws another laugh out of me, and I do as he says.

A few minutes later, he hands me a plate with four pancakes, dyed green and red. Then he places syrup in front of me and a plate of bacon on the counter. He also refills my coffee.

I could get used to this!

Sitting beside me, Lev takes a huge piece of one of his green pancakes and shoves it into his mouth. He looks at me and smiles.

I’m still staring at the plate, shaking my head. “But they’re red and green,” I mutter. “They shouldn’t have color.”

Lev throws his head back in a loud laugh. “Just eat them. I promise they’re good.”

I tentatively cut a small bite, soak it in syrup, and bring it to my mouth. It doesn’t take more than a second for me to know he’s right. They may be oddly colored, but they’re really, really good.

“Is this something your mom did for you?” I ask.

He nods. “I guarantee you that if Lindsey is home right now, they’re eating the same thing.”

We eat in silence for a few minutes, and when we’re done, I help Lev clean up.

“Come sit in the living room,” he says after the dishes are all done. He drops a kiss on my cheek. “I want to give you your stocking before we go.”

I freeze. “My stocking? Seriously? I didn’t even think about stockings.” An eager smile grows on my lips. It’s been a long time since I’ve had a proper Christmas.

“So, have your parents not been . . . have you not had . . .” Lev is trying to ask a question that I know he doesn’t want to hear the answer to.

“I went to Ryan’s for dinner the last, like, three years,” I tell him, “but we didn’t do any presents or anything. Ry and I would get each other a bottle of liquor or some weed or something, but it wasn’t anything big. The last real Christmas I had was right before Nate died.”

We sit quietly for a few minutes, sipping coffee and staring at the tree. I can tell he’s taking in the weight of my words.

“Well, that changes now,” Lev declares.

He goes to the tree and takes a stocking from underneath. It’s fuzzy red with a white top. He walks back to me and sets it in front of me. I notice my name scribbled in black marker at the top, and my heart stutters in my chest.

“Lev. You’re too much.”

“Just look at the stuff in there, please,” he tells me, motioning to the stocking.

I pull out each of the gifts, taking my time to look at and comment on each one. Some of them make me laugh, like a pair of boxers with red candy canes on it, and others, like the toothbrush, toothpaste, and shaving gel, are just practical. He also got me gum, a bottle of black nail polish, an eyeliner pencil (because he loves when I have my eyes done), and a black silk sleep mask, along with some chocolate and a tin of peppermint breath mints. It’s all so thoughtful, and I thank Lev for everything others as I set each gift aside. When I’m done and the stocking is empty, I place it on the floor at my feet. My head is down, eyes staring at the stocking, and I’m completely overcome with emotion.

Suddenly, I jump up and off the couch, straddle Lev’s lap, and hug him. His arms wrap around my middle, and I bury my head in the crook of his neck and breathe him in. “You. Are. The. Most. Amazing. Boyfriend. Ever.” I smile and pull away. “Seriously, Lev. I mean . . . you did this for me? Thank you. I love it all. I feel bad, bec—”

He hugs me close again, pulling me against him and cutting me off. “Merry Christmas, lycan.”

His lips find mine, and he kisses me with all the love he has. I can fucking feel it.

When he pulls back a moment later, his eyes are lit up.

“Okay, now, let’s open presents!” Lev makes quick work of separating our presents into small piles, his and mine, and then he sits on the floor in front of me. He made me bring them over a few days ago. He said he likes seeing them under the tree. I can’t help but be amused at the adorableness of it all. This normally big, strong, somewhat serious man is like a child on Christmas. I’m here for it.

Lev hands me a present and tells me to open it. A few of the things we get from one another are practical and things that we had talked about needing or wanting. I am saving the last two gifts I got him for the end, and he seems to be doing the same.

After all of our other presents are opened, many with ohs and thank yous and reallys!!, I hand him the one I would like him to open next.

Taking the flat, rectangular gift in his hands, he pinches his eyebrows together. “A picture?” he guesses, squeezing a little and feeling the empty front of the rectangle.