I toe off my boots in Jade’s entryway and set them by the door. Silently, so I don’t wake anyone, I tiptoe sock-footed up the stairs toward the second floor.

It’s ten minutes to midnight on Christmas Eve, and I’m not even sure Jade’s still up. But she asked me to come tonight, no matter how late, so we could wake up together on Christmas morning. I’m later than I’d planned, thanks to an evening spent watching the old Rudolph cartoon with my dad—three times through, at his urging—but I’ve made it before midnight.

I follow the scent of gingerbread to the kitchen, where Jade stands at the counter pressing little decorations into still-warm cookies. She looks up and smiles as I walk into the room, and I seize the chance to steal a cookie.

“Ooh, they’re reindeer,” I say, pausing to admire the cutout shape before biting off its head. “Pretty tasty,” I mumble around a mouthful of crumbs.

“You goober, those are for the reindeer.” She snatches the cookie out of my hand and sets it back on the tray, where I get a closer look at the cookies.

“They’re made with high-cellulose orchard hay meal for fiber,” Jade informs me. “Plus rehydrated beet pulp pellets for protein and minerals.”

I study the reindeer shapes, wavering between curiosity and nausea. “What’s that on top?”

“Little bits of lichen,” she says. “Their favorite treat.”

I grab a paper towel from the dispenser and wipe my tongue with it, grinning in spite of myself. “I love that you baked Christmas cookies for the reindeer.”

I love a lot of other things about her, too, which I’ve been making the effort to tell her every single day. “Are you at a stopping point?” I ask. “I have something for you.”

“Oooh, presents?” She grins and sets down the little dish of greenish pellets she’s been holding. “I have one for you, too. I’ll go grab it and meet you in the living room.”

I watch her scurry out of the room, admiring the curve of her hips and the way her hair trails behind her as she twirls around the banister and up the stairs.

Mine, I think.

The thought warms me all the way through. I turn and head toward the living room, where Jade and Amber have set up the family Christmas tree. Ornaments from their childhood dangle from each branch, and I stoop to admire a lumpy star made of play-dough. Beside that is a tarnished silver ornament with a family photo in the center, and I peer at the image of Jade and Amber as pigtailed grade-schoolers sandwiched between two beaming grownups. The parents are flying in from Hawaii tomorrow morning, since Christmas-day flights are cheaper. I can’t wait to meet them.

“Here we go,” Jade announces as she bounds into the room in stocking feet. She’s holding a giftwrapped package the size of a thin paperback, and I follow her to the overstuffed sofa beside the tree.

“Mind if I tuck my feet under you?” she asks as we cozy up together.

“Not at all. Mind if I ask if you’re wearing a bra?”

She gives a gasp of mock indignation, but I can tell from her smile she’s not offended.

I can also tell she’s not wearing the bra, but I want to hear her say it.

“You said that was your Christmas wish, right?” she says. “Snuggling beside the tree with Christmas carols on the stereo and a braless babe beside you.”

She grins and jerks a thumb toward the stereo, which is playing her favorite Barenaked Ladies Christmas album. I grin back like the lucky bastard I am and lean close for a kiss, skimming my thumb over her breast through the thin fabric of her t-shirt.

“You make all my wishes come true,” I tell her.

It sounds cheesy, but it’s honest to God true.

Jade smiles and points to the package she’s handed me. “Open it.”

I tug at the edges of the tape, not sure if I’m supposed to save the wrapping paper or rip into it. Jade seems like a save-the-paper kind of girl, so I take my time peeling back the edges and unfolding the red and green wrapping from the hard shape inside.

The metal edges of a photo frame come into view, and I hold it in my palms for a few silent seconds, staring at the image. It’s me at seventeen years old, football helmet under one arm, hand raised for a high five.

Beside me, with his own palm clapped against mine, is my father.

The image is grainy and a little out of focus, but his eyes are clear and bright, and his smile is so broad it takes up his whole face.

“Where on earth did you find this?” I breathe.

“Zak,” she says, sounding a little embarrassed. “I know it’s weird, since he’s in jail right now for trying to burn down our ranch and—”

“It’s amazing.”

“It is, isn’t it?” Jade shifts her weight so her toes curl under my leg and her breast brushes my arm. “Amber dug it out of a box of pictures Zak took in high school. His mom was going to throw the whole thing out, but Amber found this.”

“I can’t believe it,” I murmur. “This has to be one of the last pictures of my dad and me together.”

She beams, looking relieved. “I’m glad you like it. I was worried about dredging up old memories, but you both look so happy here.”

I touch the side of her face, so in love with her I’m almost dizzy with it. “Sometimes it’s good to dredge up old memories,” I tell her. “It’s how you make things better moving forward.”

She smiles and turns her head to plant a kiss in the center of my palm. “I couldn’t agree more.”

She doesn’t need to say anything else. Over the last week, we’ve spent many late nights sharing our stories. About high school and family and past and present and future. I could never get tired of holding her in my arms and talking until we both fall asleep.

I grip the photo frame tighter in my hands. “It’s perfect,” I tell her. “Thank you.”

I can’t stop staring at the image. My throat is thick with emotion, and I’m blown away by the magnitude of this gift. By the thought that went into it.

“I love it,” I say, tearing my eyes off the photo to look at Jade. “And I love you.”

“I love you, too.” She grins. “Did you say you had something for me?”

I nod. “Yeah. I do.”

I set the photo on the coffee table and slide a hand into my jacket pocket. The envelope I withdraw is faded and torn on one corner. Jade’s expression is curious, probably wondering why the hell I’m giving her a beat-up, used greeting card when she gave me such a thoughtful present.

I flip over the envelope and turn it so she can read the name on the front of the card.

Brandon.

Her eyes jerk to mine and then go wide. It’s not the name that startled her. It’s the handwriting. The fact that she recognizes it as her own.

She opens her mouth, but no sound comes out.

“It’s yours, right?” I ask. “You slid it in my locker my senior year?”

Slowly she nods and draws a hand to her mouth. “How did you—where did you—oh my God.”

She takes the envelope and draws the card out slowly. The envelope is tattered and soft with age, and she holds the Christmas card gently like an injured butterfly.

A smile warms her face as she reads the front of the card. I know the words without looking, and the image is burned into my brain. A cartoon Santa in the back of his sleigh, gesturing with exasperation as a lone reindeer snoozes beside the rest of the team.

“Oh, great—a flat!” read the words on the front of the card.

But that’s not why I kept it all these years.

Jade opens the card, her eyes moving back and forth as she reads the words inside. When she lifts her gaze to mine, those blue lakes are filled with tears.

“You’re one of the good ones, Brandon Brown,” she whispers. “You knew I wrote that?”

I shake my head. “No. Not until a few days ago when I saw your handwriting and made the connection.”

“But how did you—why—” She stops and takes a breath. “I can’t believe you kept it all these years. An anonymous Christmas card from a stranger?”

“Because it meant something to me,” I say. “The week you slid that card in my locker was the same week my mom left.”

“Oh my God.” She covers her mouth with her hand. “I had no idea.”

“No one did.” I swallow hard, aching to get out the rest of the words. “But seeing these words you wrote—that someone saw me as one of the good guys. It meant something to me.”

“And you kept it all these years.”

I nod. “It went with me on all my tours. Iraq, Syria—”

“I can’t believe this.”

I move my arm to the back of the couch, wanting to touch her hair. To be close enough to feel her body soft and warm and pressed against mine. “It was a reminder that someone saw something good in me,” I tell her. “Something besides the touchdowns and the military honors and the jock reputation. Something in me.”

A tear slips down her cheek, and I reach out to catch it with my thumb. Jade smiles and sets the card down in her lap. Then she stretches up to put her arms around my neck. “I love you so much, Brandon,” she murmurs against my neck. “You are one of the good guys.”

“I love you, too.” My throat cinches up like there’s a hot rubber band inside, but I swear to God I’ve never been this happy in my whole life.

I don’t tell her about the other gift. Not yet. The engagement ring is tucked safely back at my cabin, waiting for the time a few weeks or even months from now when it’s a saner moment to propose. I don’t want to scare her off, but I know without a doubt she’s the woman I’m meant to spend the rest of my life with.

I just need to give her time to reach that same place.

“Merry Christmas, Jade,” I murmur.

“Merry Christmas.” She draws back and gives me a smile that’s tipped with mischief. “So,” she says. “You brought the Santa costume like I asked?”

“You ditched the bra,” I tell her. “It seems fair I should honor your Christmas request.”

“Good.” She grins wider. “I was thinking you could put it on later. And maybe I could sit on your lap.”

I laugh and pick up the card, then set it carefully atop the picture frame on the table. “Oh yeah?” I scoop my hands under Jade, earning myself a startled squeal. She giggles as I pull her onto my lap and snuggle her close against my chest. “Maybe we should practice now?”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” I plant a kiss along her hairline, and another at the edge of her mouth. “And maybe we can talk about the first thing that pops up.”

She throws her head back in laughter, and I seize the chance to draw a long trail of kisses through the hollow of her throat. “Merry Christmas, Jade.”

“Merry Christmas, Brandon.”