“Morning, handsome,” Xavier murmurs.
I sit up in bed and take the offered mug. “Morning.”
He bumps my shoulder with his fist. “Our moms are making breakfast. That means we have about five minutes before the kitchen turns into a war zone.”
“Noted.” My brain is stuck on the wordwe. I’m in a ‘we.’ After a long and leisurely kiss, and a glug of still-too-hot but perfectly made to my taste coffee, we make it downstairs, the kitchen is full and bustling.
Valentina stands at the stove flipping something that crackles in hot oil. Roman and Sofia are arguing about the correct method for heating tortillas. Tasha and Kique are laughing at something Ares is saying. My siblings—because they are chaos incarnate—have fully assimilated into the scene like they were born here in Texas and are already part of the furniture.
Ares is telling a dramatic story with his hands, Apollo is refilling everyone’s coffee, and Athena is bossing all of them around while wearing a Santa apron she clearly stole from somewhere.
I hover in the doorway, unsure where to put myself. No one notices my hesitation. They’re too busy being a family. Arealfamily, without sideways glances at our father, or carefully considering what we talk about in front of him in case it douses his frayed nerves with kerosene or results in a lecture we’ve all heard a million times before and can’t escape.
My chest tightens painfully. This is what it should be like. We need to get out from under the shadow of that asshole.
Xavier catches my eye across the room and smiles like heknows I'm considering escaping and is anchoring me with nothing but a look.
“Artemis.” Valentina shouts over the din. “¡Feliz Navidad! Sit. Eat. You’re too thin, Mijo. You need meat on your bones to crash people into the boards.”
Mom clinks what looks to be a flute glass of orange juice against Valentina’s glass and says something I can’t hear.
“Mom.” Xavier’s voice is a groan, but he’s grinning.
I’m handed a plate and guided to a seat at the table. It’s more uncomplicated belonging that my mind doesn’t know what to do with it. And let’s not even think about unpacking that thumping organ in my chest because it’s loving every goddamn minute of it.
They open gifts after breakfast. I try to stay back out of the way, but Ares literally drags me by the hood of my sweatshirt and plants me on the couch between him and Xavier like I’m part of the furniture too.
My god of absolute chaos brother hands me the gift bag I left back home. It’s the one filled with things I bought for Xavier when I thought Christmas would be quieter. Lonelier. Alone in a room full of my family scrambling to find the pretence of family.
“Don’t forget this.” Ares knocks my knee with his, and a too-innocent grin.
Xavier looks at the bag. Then at me.
My throat closes.
My palms start to fucking sweat. My palms never sweat. I’m the enforcer, the cool, calm, and collected, quiet-yet-grumpy motherfucker no one dares mess with because I can’t be flapped. I am unflappable. And yet… flap, flap motherfucker. This hotshot rival of mine has me well and truly flapped.
And Ares knows it, they probably all do. I clear my throat,but it doesn’t make the awkwardness go anywhere, it seems to just draw more attention to it actually.
Xavier pulls out the book he mentioned once in a text exchange. It’s a special edition hardback, with the fancy foil, the interior art, and those weird colored edges everyone’s losing their minds over.
“You… got these for me?” Xavier’s voice is soft and directed at me, but I can tell everyone in the fucking room is paying attention to this exchange.
I swallow. “Yeah. I wasn’t sure whether I was going to give them to you.” I flash him a fake, confident smile. “Or whether I should scrap the sentiment and just buy you a damn pony.”
His eyes soften. It’s too much. He’s too fucking close to seeing through my façade. He looks at me like he sees something worth keeping, and that’s the part that terrifies me.
“I’d really have preferred the pony.” He flicks his wrist with a wry smile. He lifts the picture frame. His breath catches. In the photo, my hand is on the back of his neck, his forehead against mine, both of us smiling like idiots unaware someone was watching.
How did I think I could ever keep this, him, how he makes me feel a secret?
Xavier’s throat bobs. “Oh.” It’s just one word but it folds me in half.
Before I can react, Xavier sets it aside and pulls my face toward his for a soft, slow, grateful kiss—one that makes the entire room go suspiciously quiet.
“Y’all are disgusting,” Ares whispers.
And both Valentina and Mamá shush him with a smack. My heart stutters, and then as if summoned by my own internal panic, my phone vibrates in my pocket.Alonso. I’ve changed his name on my phone. Just because he donated his sperm to my existence, doesn’t mean he’s my father. Which issomething it took me far too long to realize. And now I’ve stepped into that realization, I’m doubling down.
