Her eyes sparkle with curiosity as she takes the gift from my hands. She tears into the wrapping paper with the eagerness of a child.

  I watch intently as she lifts the lid of the box, revealing the snow globe nestled inside. Her brow furrows briefly before her expression shifts to one of surprise and wonder. “Is this…?”

  “The selfie we took in New Haven yesterday,” I confirm, unable to keep the note of pride from my voice. “I had it made into a snow globe. Express service at the mall.”

  Nina carefully extracts the globe from its packaging, cradling it in her palms. She gives it a gentle shake and watches, mesmerized, as the tiny flakes swirl around our smiling faces. “Tristan, this is… I can’t believe you did this. When did you even have the time?”

  I grin at her, relishing her reaction. “You, my dear, have the smallest bladder known to humankind. On one of your many visits to the restroom, I seized my chance.”

  She swats at me playfully, her laughter like the tinkling of bells. “Jerk. But seriously… thank you. I love it.” She shakes it again.

  Overcome by a swell of emotion, I lean in and capture her lips with mine. The kiss is tender, filled with all the things I’m still too afraid to say out loud. When we part, a glance at the clock tells me it’s time to slip away before the rest of the family wakes.

  I drop my forehead against hers. “I have to go now.”

  With great reluctance, I extract myself from her embrace and gather my things. One last lingering look, and I’m out the door, a mix of satisfaction and bittersweet longing simmering within me.

  The morning passes in a festive blur of laughter and cheer as the Thompson household comes alive with the spirit of Christmas. By the time Uncle Milo arrives with his clan, the sun is high in the sky, glinting off the pristine blanket of snow that covers the world outside.

  We bundle up in coats and scarves, tumbling out into the frosty air like a pack of overexcited puppies. The snow is a blank canvas, begging to be marked by our presence. In no time at all, a full-fledged snowball fight erupts, filling the crisp air with shouts of mirth and the thud of icy projectiles finding their targets.

  I catch Nina’s eye across the battlefield, there’s a naughty glint in her gaze that untethers me. We engage in our own private skirmish, lobbing packed spheres of snow at each other amidst the chaos. Every hit is a flirtatious tease, every dodge an invitation to give chase. We dance around each other, breathless and giddy, always careful not to draw too much attention from the others.

  Later, as the kids set about building a lopsided snowman with their parents, Nina and I fall to the ground to make snow angels side by side. Our gloved fingers brush, a stolen caress hidden by the activity around us. We exchange secretive smiles, cheeks rosy from more than just the cold.

  In this moment, surrounded by the people she loves most, I feel a pang of longing, a desire to truly belong. The easy affection the Thompsons share stands in stark contrast to the chilly silences and tense politeness that mark my family gatherings.

  When Nina turns her head to look at me, her eyes bright with joy and something deeper, I think that maybe, just maybe, I do belong. That I’ve finally found my place in the world. Right here, by her side.

  But then Dylan decks her with a particularly well-aimed snowball, and I remember there’s still a side of this equation I haven’t solved. How to tell my best friend I’ve had sex with his little sister. That I want to keep on doing it, possibly for the rest of my life.

  I dodge the thought and attack Dylan from behind. Nina and I double-team him until we all have snow sneaking down our necks and other parts that should stay dry.

  By the time we pile back inside, we’re trembling, our noses reddened from the cold. But the aroma of roasted turkey and cinnamon wafts through the air, enveloping us in the essence of Christmas and promising a warm reprieve. Peals of laughter echo off the walls as everyone sheds their snowy layers and congregates in the dining room.

  Nina’s mom emerges from the kitchen, wiping her hands on her festive apron. “Lunch is ready! Sit, sit while the food is hot!”

  The table is a sight to behold, laden with dishes that took hours to prepare. Golden turkey, glistening ham, creamy mashed potatoes, vibrant green beans—it’s a feast prepared with love. I think of my mother’s catered Christmas meals with a twinge of bitterness. Regret for a childhood that was drab and loveless washes over me. Imagine growing up like this, surrounded by warmth and love. Having dinner together every night, then a bedtime story and a kiss before going to sleep.

  Nina catches my gaze and frowns at the jagged emotions she must read on my face. She tilts her head as if to ask if I’m okay. I smile and nod because the warmth she’s put in my chest has melted all the frost of my upbringing.

  We fill our plates and toast to family, love, and the magic of the season. As I savor each mouthful, stories are swapped, memories relived, and gentle teasing flows as freely as the wine. This is what family should be like—effortless, accepting, full of laughter.

  After the meal, we migrate to the living room, bellies stretching and hearts content. It’s time for presents, and the kids bounce with barely contained excitement. Wrapping paper flies, ribbons tangle, and exclamations of delight fill the air as each gift is unveiled.

  In the turmoil, Nina catches my eye, her shoulders relaxed, her expression open. She mouths a silent “thank you,” and I know she doesn’t mean just the snow globe.

  As the last present is opened and the final shred of paper falls to the floor, a sense of peace settles over the room. We sprawl out on the couch or on the rugs, limbs heavy with too much food, as Lisa selects a classic Christmas movie.

  The credits begin to roll, but my thoughts are far from the flickering screen. Instead, I study the surrounding faces, committing each smile to memory. This is the family I never had, the love I always yearned for. And at the center of it all is Nina, radiant and perfect, the missing piece I never knew I needed. I thought having Dylan was enough, but as much as I love my best friend, it doesn’t compare to what I’m feeling right now.

  She must feel my gaze because she turns, her green eyes locking with mine. The possibility of many more happy Christmases together brimming in them.

  For so long, the idea of starting a family of my own terrified me. How could I trust in the permanence of love when my own parents never gave me any? But here, at this moment, with Nina by my side, I feel a shift within me. A tiny seed of hope takes root deep in my core, whispering of possibilities I never dared to imagine.

  I’m ready to take a leap of faith. To open my heart and let myself fall. Because with Nina, I know I’ll always have a soft place to land.

  26

  NINA

  The door slides open with a soft creak, and Tristan slips into my room as silently as a cat. I’m expecting him, but my belly flutters at the sight of him, even as I raise an eyebrow.

  “How did you get rid of Dylan so quickly? I thought he’d keep you up all night playing Halo.”

  Tristan grins wickedly. “I played the yawning card.”

  I furrow my brows questioningly.

  “I started yawning—they’re contagious and all—until your brother practically begged me to go to bed.”

  “Devious.”

  He pulls me close and kisses me, turning me to Jell-O in his arms. When we break apart, his expression turns serious.

  “Nina, I don’t want to keep sneaking around like this anymore. Dylan is my best friend. We need to tell him about us.”

  I struggle to control my ragingly blissful emotions so they don’t show too much on my face. I strive to maintain a shred of dignity even when my instinct would be to kick my feet under the covers and scream my joy. Tristan wants to talk to Dylan, which means there is something to tell.

  “Okay. Let’s do it tomorrow.” Even through the excitement, I feel a stab of anxiety in my gut. “How do you think he’ll take it?”

  Tristan runs a hand through his dark hair, his brow furrowing. “Honestly? I have no idea. He might be shocked… or he might punch me in the face for messing around with his little sister behind his back.”

  “Hey, I’m a grown woman! I can mess around with whoever I want.” But secretly, I’m worried too. Dylan has always been overprotective of me, especially when it comes to guys. Finding out about me and Tristan… his best friend and the guy I’ve supposedly hated for years… well, it might just break his brain.

  Exhaustion washes over me as I stifle a yawn. The events of the day, combined with the little sleep we crammed in last night, are rapidly catching up with me. “Look, your tactics carried over to me.”

  Tristan slips out of his clothes and snuggles under the covers with me, pulling my back flush with his chest. “C’mon, let’s get some sleep. We’ll figure out how to break the news to Dylan in the morning.”

  We curl up together, Tristan’s muscular arms encircling me from behind as we spoon. Cocooned in the warmth of his embrace, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against my back lulls me to sleep in no time.

  The light feels too bright as I wake the next morning. Did we oversleep? I sit up, dislodging Tristan, and grab my phone. But a quick check of the time tells me the glow is just the snow outside multiplying the sunshine, making it seem like it’s later in the day than it actually is. I also remember that it’s December 26, which means my parents will leave for church soon, if they haven’t already, to help with the post-Christmas cleanup like they do every year. So it will be only Dylan in the house. He might sleep in late. But with him, you never know. He could wake up early just as easily and ask Tristan to join him for a run. Wretched athletic types.

  “Come back here,” Tristan groans in protest. “I want my pillow back.”

  “You have to go to your room.”

  Tristan mutters nonsensical protests, still half asleep.

  “Come on, it’s the last morning. Then after we tell Dylan, we can stay in bed as much as we want.”

  The mention of my brother makes him open one lid, his gaze more alert than his sprawled pose would suggest.

  I drop a kiss on his temple and slip out of bed and out of my room, heading straight for the bathroom, eager to start the day with a hot shower. Just as I’m about to step inside, a pair of powerful arms wraps around my waist from behind.

  “And where do you think you’re going?” Tristan’s deep, sleep-roughened voice sends heat prickling at the back of my neck.

  I lean back against his chest, a playful grin on my face. “I was just about to take a shower. And you should be back in your room.”

  Tristan pouts against my shoulder. “What if I need a shower, too?”

  I stare down the hall. All is quiet. Mom and Dad’s door is open, the bed made, meaning they’re gone. And Dylan must still be sleeping. It’s a risk, I should say no.

  “Can I come in?” Tristan grazes his teeth down the curve of my neck and that settles it. I quickly pull him into the bathroom with me and lock the door behind us.

  We shed our clothes, leaving a trail of discarded garments on the floor. As we step under the warm spray of water, Tristan pulls me close, his hands roaming over my slick skin. I tilt my head back, letting the jet fall over my face as Tristan’s lips find my neck, trailing scorching kisses along my throat.

  He lathers shampoo in my hair, the massage of his fingers on my scalp so good it makes me feel like I’ve been washing my hair wrong my entire life.

  Just as things get heated, a loud pounding on the bathroom door startles us both.

  “Nina! I need my electric razor!” Dylan’s voice, tinged with impatience, echoes through the door.

  I groan, reluctantly pulling away from Tristan. “Can’t it wait, Dylan? I’m showering!”

  “Just open the door and hand me the razor, okay?”

  “Can’t you wait fifteen minutes?”

  “No. You take forever in the shower; I’ll use Mom and Dad’s bath. Just need my razor.”

  When I don’t respond, he knocks again. “Come on, Nina, open up.”

  Tristan and I exchange a panicked look. We can’t let Dylan find out about us like this! Thinking quickly, I exit the shower and pull the curtain tightly closed, concealing Tristan behind it. I grab a towel, hastily wrapping it around myself before snatching Dylan’s razor from the counter.

  Mouth parched with worry, I crack open the door, thrusting the razor into Dylan’s waiting hand. “Here, take it and go!”

  I try to shut the door, but Dylan wedges his foot in the gap, preventing it from closing. “Wait, I need my shaving cream, too.”

  My stomach drops as Dylan pushes his way into the bathroom, his gaze darting suspiciously toward the shower. Please don’t let him notice Tristan, I silently pray.

  “Why are you acting so weird? You have someone hidden in the shower?” Dylan asks, frowning.

  I force a laugh, trying to sound nonchalant but sounding deranged. “Of course not! Don’t be ridiculous.” I follow his gaze to the pulled curtain but can’t see anything. Tristan must’ve flattened himself against the tiles.

  Dylan hesitates, his eyes narrowing. After what feels like an eternity, he finally nods. “Fine. I’ll just grab my shaving cream and go.”

  Relief floods through me as Dylan reaches for the cabinet, his back turned to the shower. But before I can let out the breath I’ve been holding, Dylan’s gaze drops to the floor where a pair of unmistakably male boxer briefs are casually tossed on top of my pajamas.

  With the reflexes of a jaguar, my brother spins around and yanks the shower curtain open with an angry jerk.

  Tristan stands there, completely exposed, his hands barely covering his privates. Dylan’s eyes widen in shock, his face quickly contorting with rage.

  “What the fuck?” Dylan roars, his voice echoing off the bathroom tiles. He jabs an accusing finger at Tristan. “What the fuck, man?”

  Tristan opens his mouth to respond, but no words come out. He looks like a fish on the hook under Dylan’s furious glare.

  Dylan takes a menacing step toward Tristan, his fists clenched at his sides. Oh, gosh, he’s going to kill him! I can’t let that happen.

  Without thinking, I jump between them, my arms outstretched to keep them apart. “Dylan, stop! This isn’t what it looks like!”

  “The hell it isn’t!” Dylan snarls, struggling to push past me. “You weren’t trying out naked yoga in there, were you?”

  As I struggle to hold Dylan back, my towel slips from my body, pooling at my feet. Great, now I’m fighting my brother naked. Could this get any more humiliating?

  Dylan’s eyes flicker down to my exposed body, and he quickly averts his gaze, his anger momentarily replaced by discomfort. “Good grief, Nina, cover yourself!”

  He backs out of the bathroom, slamming the door behind him. The sudden silence is deafening, broken only by the sound of my racing heart.

  I slowly turn to face Tristan, who’s still standing in the shower, shell-shocked. We stare at each other for a long moment, the gravity of the situation sinking in.

  Tristan’s jaw sets in a hard line that I don’t like. We get dressed in tense silence, and then have no choice but to open the bathroom door and face the music.

  27

  TRISTAN

  I step out of the bathroom, anxiety lodged deep in my throat. My heart feels like it’s going to beat its way out of my chest as I peek at my best friend. Dylan stands there, leaning against the wall, fists clenched, eyes ablaze with fury.

  “What the hell, man?” Dylan growls at me. “What do you think you’re doing with my sister?”

  Nina jumps between us, jabbing a finger at Dylan’s chest. “Back off, Dylan. This is none of your business. Stay out of my life.”

  “The hell it isn’t! He’s my best friend and you’re my little sister. How long has this been going on behind my back?”

  I gape, wanting to speak, but no words come out. I’m petrified at the idea of having pushed away the only person who always showed up for me.

  When I don’t reply, Nina takes it upon herself. “It’s only been a few days, not that it’s any of your concern. I’m an adult; I can date whoever I want!”

  Dylan scoffs. “Not my best friend, you can’t! I absolutely forbid this. It’s not happening.”

  “You can’t tell me what to do!” Nina yells, her features contorted in anger. “I’m sorry we didn’t tell you right away. But you have no right to butt in.”

  “I have every right. How did this even happen? You went from hating each other to… to what?” Dylan lets out a frustrated groan, pressing the heels of his palms over his eyes. “I don’t even want to know. And it ends now, anyway.”

  “It’s not your call.”

  “Yes, it’s my fucking call, as I seem to be the only person left around with a few brain cells that connect.”

  “You will not mess with my life.”

  “Watch me.” Dylan makes to side-step her, but Nina blocks him.

  “Dylan,” Nina continues. “You can’t just boss me around. I can handle my own relationships.”

  “Oh? Ooooooh. So, this is a relationship now?” Dylan’s laugh is almost hysterical. He points a finger at me. “He doesn’t do relationships.”

  “You didn’t know he was fucking me,” Nina snarls, and I cringe inwardly. Wrong approach, Princess. Now Dylan is really going to kill me. But she continues, “So maybe you don’t know everything.”

  “Nina,” Dylan threatens. “Get out of my face before I⁠—”

  “Before you what?” she shouts, squaring off to him.

  “Before I lose my fucking mind. This insanity is over.”

  “No.”

  “Yes.”

  “No.”

  “Why the hell not? Seriously, what do you think this is gonna do for you? Why him?”

  “Because I’m in love with him, alright?”

  Silence crashes down like an anvil. We all freeze, staring at each other wide-eyed, chests heaving. Nina claps a hand over her mouth, startled by her own outburst. I gape at her, my mind reeling. She loves me?