“Speak for yourself,” Luke cut in. “That was a solid rendition ofJingle Bell Rock.”
Christian raised both hands in mock surrender. “You’re just mad I hit the high note.”
“Mad you tried,” Javier said flatly.
The teasing rolled on until Javier leaned back, boots creaking, voice dry. “What about presents? You guys do gifts, or is it just cookies and cocoa now?”
“No presents,” Christian said like he was declaring war on commercialism.
“That’s what you think—till you wake up Christmas morning,” I shot back. Smirked. Meant it.
“Can’t forget your sock collection,” Luke added, grin wide. “Legendary stuff.”
Laughter hit the walls. Hit something in the gut too—good kind. The kind that lingered.
Christian threw his arms out like he’d just won a prize. “Might need help picking them out this year,” he said, half-joking.
The room felt full after that. Warmer. Lighter. Talk turned to dinner at Claire’s inn, maybe baking cookies, maybe just drinks and quiet stories. Didn’t matter. The shape of the night wasn’t important. The people were.
The donuts vanished, but our moods didn’t crash. Didn’t need sugar to feel the lift.
And somewhere in the middle of the noise, I felt it again. That thing we didn’t name out loud. Family. Found in the ashes. Built from nothing but grit, grief, and too many ridiculous holiday pastries.
Didn’t matter what came next.
We’d show up. Together.
Always.
I leaned back and let the noise wash over me.
“Honestly, the VA forms are worse than my last deployment,” Luke muttered, rubbing his temple. “Takes longer to fill one out than it did to clear a whole compound.”
Javier snorted. “Yeah? You’ve never seen Noah’s stack. Looks like he’s entering a contest.”
“Hey, leave me out of it,” Noah said.
“Didn't you get a new dog? What’s her deal?” I asked.
“She’s a menace,” Noah replied. “But at least she doesn’t complain about the weather.”
“Yet,” Luke muttered, shaking his head. “Wait ‘til she has to dig your truck out of the driveway.”
“She won’t,” Javier said with a grin. “She’ll just watch while you freeze.”
Noah leaned forward, arms resting on the table. “You should meet her when she’s not barking at shadows or hoarding my socks.”
Christian grinned. “We could start a dog club—Canines of the Crippled.”
I shook my head. Couldn’t help the smile, though.
“What? You don’t think Cavil would join?” Luke said, wide-eyed with fake offense.
“Not unless you dragged him out kicking,” Javier added.
“Oh please,” Christian said, nudging my arm. “Cavil never misses a week unless the sky’s falling or the coffee machine breaks.”
That got them laughing—low and loose, the kind that sat deep in the ribs. I didn’t mind. Not from them. Felt more like an old nickname than a jab.
