“Hello? Someone call for presents?” I knocked on the front door of my parents’ house the next evening before entering.

Emily shrieked and ran to me, grabbing onto the leg of my jeans.

“You’re such a cheeseball.” My younger sister Annie approached me with a cup of something steaming.

“Trade you.” I gave her my coat and she passed me the mug. I took a sip. “Mmm. I love Christmas Eve. Cider with… bourbon?”

“Yes and you’re lucky there’s any left,” Grace commented from across the room. “You’re late.”

It’d been a million years since the Victorian had been my house. Still, it felt like home.

I carried my gifts across the living room and set them under the tree. I’d come back and watch people open them in the morning.

“So the new job’s going well,” I asked Annie as I dropped into the chair reserved for me and she flopped onto the couch.

“Teaching’s hard work. Anyone who says it’s not is full of shit.”

“Annie!” Grace chastised, with a meaningful look at Emily.

“Sorry. Full of… farts.”

Emily giggled and Grace shook her head.

Anyone who saw Annie, Grace, and I together would’ve known we weren’t from the same parents. It didn’t matter, not really.

Love is thicker than blood.

“How’s Titan?” Annie asked.

“Did Mom tell you? We’re making a movie. Or technically, Epic gave us a check to go away and let them make one.”

“That’s impressive,” Jeremy, Grace’s husband commented.

“That’s Lee. He’s not going to stop until he takes over the world,” Grace said with a smile as she scooped Emily up into her arms and took a seat on the couch next to her husband.

My mom chose that moment to enter with a plate of snacks hot out of the oven. “You should stop drinking that, honey.”

“When they add hours to the day, I’ll do that.” I turned to Annie. “Where’s this boyfriend I keep hearing about?”

“You think I’d bring him over tonight? You’d terrorize him.”

“With kindness,” Mom supplied.

I relaxed into the atmosphere. The glow from the tree. The Snoopy Christmas album in the background on a Bluetooth speaker that was almost as good as a baby grand.

Small traditions.

Our traditions.

We played cards and drank cider and laughed. A few hours had passed in no time.

“It’s Christmas Eve,” Annie insisted, “you don’t have to go home.”

“No? The four of you are using all the beds. Unless you want me to sleep on top of you.”

I leaned against my sister, putting my hand over her face and grinning as she squirmed.

“Well have a good sleep and be back here at nine or I’m opening your presents.”

“And we’re video calling your father at ten,” my mom reminded me.

I started down the street with the last gift in my hands, heading for the lights on at the house six down.

The walkway had been freshly shoveled and I took the stairs to the porch in a single stride. The faint sound of the television sounded through the door as I knocked.

I heard footsteps, and although the foyer stayed dark the door opened.

I hadn’t seen her in a week but it felt like longer.

The gray knit sweater and black leggings outlined her curves. Silver earrings sparkled in the light from the kitchen. Her dark hair was straight, falling in its edgy razored cut to her shoulders.

Her face softened when she saw me. “Hey. What are you doing here?”

“Who is it?” her dad’s voice called from inside.

“Say it’s carol singers,” I murmured in my best British accent.

She snorted. “I’m not acting out Love Actually with you.” Her gaze dropped to the wrapped package and her smile fell away. “What’s that?”

“It’s for you.”

She stepped back to let me in, the door swinging shut behind me. The entire house smelled likes cloves and oranges.

Sam unwrapped the package, her eyes widening as she pushed back the paper.

“Lee…”

She reached for the light switch, flicking on the overhead, her eyes never leaving the canvas. I cleared my throat. “Max bought it. Before the fire. Now it’s yours.”

Her eyes filled with emotion. “Thank you.”

“I know you’ll get through this, but I thought it might help to see that not everything went up in smoke. This, at least, survived.”

And you’ll survive too.

Her gaze lifted to mine, and concern replaced the gratitude as she took me in under the lights. “You look awful.”

I glanced down at my peacoat, thinking of the chinos and cashmere sweater underneath. “Thank you.”

“No, I mean…you have circles under your eyes. Are you sick?”

I debated whether to confide in her. “I pulled an all-nighter after learning we’re short on cash flow to make payroll next week. I needed to fix it, and I didn’t want to bother Max. He’s finally getting some family time.”

“You want to stay for a while?”

“Here?” Her question caught me off-guard. “Your dad and I don’t always get along. Scratch that. We don’t ever get along. Besides, I have to be back there”—I hitched a thumb toward my parents’ house—“by morning. Otherwise the presents, and more importantly the booze, will be gone.”

Sam glanced down at the painting still in her hands. Then set it on the washing machine in the laundry room and reached for the buttons on my jacket.

I brushed her hands away on a low laugh. “Okay, easy there. I can get my own coat.” I hung it on one of the pegs and stepped out of my shoes while she watched.

When I was done, Sam grabbed my hand and tugged me back into the living room, introducing me to her grandparents.

“Dad, look at what Riley brought me.” She held up the painting she’d brought in with her, and when her father sized me up, it wasn’t with hostility. He looked between Sam’s face and mine, and nodded so slightly it was almost invisible.

The five of us played card games. Had a drink. It was way longer than an hour when we were sitting on the couch to watch Elf, laughing as Will Ferrell mainlined sugar in all its forms.

I stole a glance at Sam, fascinated by the way the light shone on her hair. The glint in her eyes that seemed warmer since I’d given her that painting.

The volume on the movie was turned up for her grandparents, who occupied the other couch. Sam’s dad was settled in his recliner until he got a call from the hospital and left the room to take it.

It’d be easy to fall into the past, and I wondered if Sam was feeling that too as she curled up at my side, traced patterns absently in my arm. A decade ago it would’ve been her pen, not her fingers, and the years and her touch—skin on skin—made all the damned difference.

“You never could keep still,” I murmured. She froze, as if realizing for the first time what she was doing.

She started to pull back but I shook my head. “Don’t stop. It feels good.”

The stroking resumed and her slow smile lit me up on the inside, made me feel like I was seventeen and the whole world was ours. “Tell me something. Did you ever get a tattoo?”

Sam shook her head. “What about you.”

“I’m more of a piercing guy.”

The way she’d been running a finger over my wrist stopped. “I thought Max was the one with a piercing.”

“I got one the same night. Solidarity.”

She turned it over in her mind before asking, “Where?” in a voice that was thick with curiosity.

My ears buzzed with the sound of the movie, of her grandmother proclaiming loudly, “Why is he asking if there’s sugar in syrup? Of course there’s sugar in syrup. It’s made of sugar!”

I tuned all of it out. Every inch of me was dialed in on Sam, her knees pulled up between us and brushing the side of my thigh. Her arm pressing against mine. Her cheeks, flushing under the overhead light and making me wonder what else I could do to make her flush.

“Where do you think?” I replied under my breath.

The curiosity on her face transformed into fascination. Her breasts rose under her sweater as she sucked in a breath. A satisfaction I hadn’t known I wanted spread inside my chest.

Most women thought it was a novelty. Intriguing.

I didn’t give a shit what most women thought right now.

I wanted to know what Sam thought.

Whether it made those busy fingers itch for something to distract them.

Whether her eyes would darken if she saw it.

Sam’s dad returned and I excused myself to go to the bathroom, taking a moment to regroup as I stared in the mirror.

I looked the same as always. The bruising from my nose had faded. The light freckles on my pale skin were barely visible thanks to the drink I’d had. My eyes were the same flat blue, like one of Tristan’s fleece blankets.

I shouldn’t be there, but I couldn’t resist the invitation to step into her world. To see how she took care of the people she loved. To steal back a few moments of what we’d had and lost, like Peter Pan trying to return to Neverland.

I found Sam in the kitchen, loading dishes into the dishwasher. She glanced up when I entered, her breath catching.

Seeing her here in the quiet reprieve of the kitchen had me doing some reminiscing of Scrooge-like proportions. Even if I couldn’t change what’d happened between us in the past, I was overpowered by the urge to change it. Here. Now.

With my hands and my mouth and my—

“I’ll walk you out,” she murmured.

She walked me to the porch, pulling on her boots and a jacket. “Thank you for the painting,” she said once she’d straightened, turning her face up to mine. “It’s honestly the best gift anyone’s ever given me.”

“You deserve good things, Sam.”

Her gaze scanned the street. “Where’s your car? If someone stole it, I’m going to lose my shit.” Her attention landed on me, alarm melting into indignation I loved to see.

I lifted a shoulder under my coat. “I needed cash. It’s tricky to liquidate assets over the holidays. The banks are closed for days.”

“Wait. You sold it?” she demanded. “You love that car.”

The horror in her voice made me smile. “It’s just a car, Sam. I love Titan more.”

She stepped closer, her eyes searching mine. The sensation that'd been teasing me all night grew, spread.

There was something between us, and I was starting to think I’d be burned from the inside out if we didn’t resolve it.

My fingers itched for contact—something, anything—so I trailed them in the cold snow on the railing. Balled some up. “Know what else I love?”

“What’s that?”

She watched, curious, when I stepped closer…

“Winning.” I dropped the snow down the back of her sweater.

She yelped, cursing my name even as she recovered, dropping to her knees and making her own snowball.

Sam was a survivor. A worthy opponent if there ever was one.

I’d known it then like I knew it now. She had a will to live, an ability to absorb the pain and diffuse it in a way I envied.

We traded blows in the front yard. Taking hits, ducking, gasping and laughing and groaning. She couldn’t reach the back of my neck but she found my collar, wedged a handful of snow down it when I was bent to regroup. I got her back, smashing a snow patty over the top of her head while she squealed.

Minutes or hours later we staggered back to the porch steps, collapsing next to each other.

Her eyelashes blinked, snowflakes melting on them as she turned toward me.

Sam’s breathing came in gasps, each one accompanied by a little shiver from the cold.

“Truce?” I offered.

“Truce,” she panted.

I inched closer until our chests were nearly touching. I smelled her shampoo, and the warmth of her body had me longing to feel her.

The warning in her eyes came out of nowhere. “Riley, we—”

I cut off her protests with my mouth.

This kiss was nothing like the others.

The first time, she’d been admitting a secret.

The second, I’d wanted to prove there was something between us.

This one had no agenda, except as an expression of genuine fucking wanting and the fact that she was right here in front of me and I couldn’t help but have her.

My fingers cradled her face, cold from the winter air as I tipped her chin up. She tasted like cider. My tongue teased her until she opened, and the little sound that escaped when I took her mouth was fucking everything.

I wanted the woman who’d been through hell and come out the other side strong and beautiful and defiant. The one who’d told me her secrets once, trusting me to keep them safe. The one who’d come to my rescue when I didn’t know how to ask for help.

In the space of a breath, she kissed me back.

The porch, the snow, the crisp air melted away. None of them could compete with the taste of her, the feel of her arching to press against me through the layers of clothes.

When she’d kissed me in high school, I hadn’t realized how much shutting her down had cost me. How much I’d regret it.

I poured all of me into this moment. My hands streaked under the back of her sweater, her skin warm under the lingering dampness from the snow. I pulled her harder against me. I wanted her warm and closer, always fucking closer, so she wouldn’t slip away into the darkness like she had last time.

When she pulled back, her expression was dazed. Her lips parted and breathless.

Satisfied, I rose, dusting myself off as I offered her my hand to tug her up after me.

“Merry Christmas, Sam,” I whispered before grazing my lips once more against her soft cheek and turning to take both porch stairs at once.