When I woke up the next morning, it didn't take me long to realize that I was alone. A warmth was missing.

I jerked up, scanning the room for Bren.

He wasn't there.

He was gone. Gone. He was gone.

Stiff white sheets, a faint beeping noise, a pain deep in my chest, a pounding in my head.

Where was the boy with soft brown eyes—the one who told me I was worth everything?

If I was worth everything, why did he leave?

The door creaked open, jerking me out of my thoughts, out of my paralysis. The beeping stopped, the pain subsided. And all because Bren slipped silently into the room.

His head was bent, shaggy hair hanging over his eyes. It took him forever to close the door, trying to do it without making a noise. But this house was like a hundred years old, so it was an impossible mission.

When he turned, his eyes—those soft brown eyes—grew wide at seeing me awake and sitting up.

I breathed.

Had I been holding that?

No wonder I'd felt like I was going to pass out.

A dark, pained expression spread over Bren's face, and he turned around for a moment, resting his head against the back of the door. I jumped as his hand slapped against the solid wood. He stayed like that for a while—resting on the door. I honestly wasn't sure for how long.

But when he did turn back around, everything had returned to normal. He gave me a small smile and walked over to the bed. "I was just in the bathroom. Sorry, baby." His voice was so quiet, so reserved. "I didn't mean to scare you."

He knew. He knew exactly what I'd been thinking. I nodded, finally relaxing at hearing him. At seeing him coming closer to me.

His wandering gaze turned appreciative, and though it tried to stay on my face, I could see the struggle in his eyes.

And that's when I remembered I was naked.

I also remembered all of the things Bren had done last night, all of the very bad—but entirely good—things. I felt my cheeks flame as he continued to stare at me. I couldn't resist pulling the blanket up to my chin.

"Oh, so you're shy now?" Bren asked, teasing. He walked over and flopped down on the bed, resting his head on his hand, posing. "Last night you were all...draw me like one of your French girls, Bren." I couldn't help but laugh, and he added, "Except now we have iPhones, so, you know." He tossed me a lazy smile. "But you had the necklace and everything."

I gave him a little shove and then disappeared completely beneath the blankets, embarrassed. God, I couldn't believe that I'd done that. I didn't regret it—I just literally couldn't believe that I'd done that.

Only for Bren. Only ever for Bren.

Bren, who I heard laugh before suddenly appearing under the covers too, pinning me beneath his body.

"Don't hide from me, Madie."

"It's different during the day."

He scoffed. "Only because I don't have to squint through the darkness to see how fucking gorgeous you are."

"Oh, shut up," I said with a laugh even though I felt my cheeks growing even hotter.

Bren responded with a lopsided grin. "You can shut me up at any time. I won't mind."

I rolled my eyes. But then I couldn't help but wrap my arms around his neck and pull down so I could shut him up, kissing my brown-eyed boy.

"Merry Christmas, Madeline," he mumbled against my lips, sneaking in words despite my efforts to quiet him with my mouth. "Last night you gave me the best gifts I've ever gotten in my entire life."

"Merry Christmas, Bren," I breathed. "I love you."

He kissed me harder at that. And finally, when we were both breathless and feverish beneath the covers, hidden from everything except each other, Bren whispered, "I love you, too. So fucking much."

We didn't waste any more time getting up, not wanting to leave Caroline alone on Christmas morning. It was only a matter of time before she'd interrupt us anyway.

There was a stocking for me above the fireplace when we got downstairs, and when I looked at Bren to accuse him, he just gave a sheepish shrug. But I couldn't get mad. Seeing the stocking there made me feel like I belonged.

I belonged with him. Wherever. As long as it was with him.

The three of us sat by the Christmas tree with steaming cups of coffee and opened the few other gifts beneath it. I nearly cried again when I unwrapped a present from Caroline, who'd gotten me a stack of soft, pretty sweaters. Apparently she'd asked Bren if I always wore his sweatshirts around because I liked them or if it was because I didn't have any of my own winter outfits. He'd said both.

Somewhere back at my parents' house, I had a stash of warm clothes, but I hadn't brought them with me to college because I was always okay with wearing Quinton's crap. It's so ridiculous to think about now—how I didn't even think twice about donning someone else's identity every day, essentially branding myself with his name and football number on my back. It was humiliating.

But Caroline didn't make me feel weird. She didn't look at me with pity or judgment. She just pointed to the sweaters and said, "I thought those colors would look nice with your hair."

I put on a fuzzy, sky blue one after we finished with presents. And it did look nice with my hair. And it matched my new necklace. And, as Bren would say, my goddamn eyes.

The three of us then hopped in the car—Bren and me in the back and Caroline driving, much to her annoyance. But Bren behaved. Well, relatively. His hand liked to drift up my thigh occasionally, and I'd have to clutch it in fingers to get him to stop.

Caroline drove us out of Fresno and didn't stop until we hit mountains and snow, near Yosemite. It was...magical. Spending Christmas Day in a winter wonderland with Bren was a dream, an absolute dream. I borrowed a winter coat and boots from Caroline, and Bren was adorable with his pink cheeks and stocking cap. We took a hike, stopping for snowballs and photos. Lots of photos. I heard the snap of Caroline's camera go off repeatedly throughout the afternoon.

At one point, I turned to her and said, "Thank you for taking that picture that Bren gave me, by the way."

She beamed at me. "Of course! You two were so cute. I couldn't help it. Bren said you didn't have any pictures together, either." She sighed and snapped another picture—this time of a snow-covered Redwood. "I know I'm biased, but I've always thought the perfect photo, one that really speaks to you, is simply priceless."

Bren had popped up behind me then. "Definitely." Then he coughed and said, "Madie and I both got pictures for Christmas this year."

I instantly blushed—I could feel it. With a quick jab, I elbowed Bren in the stomach and heard an oof followed by more coughing and laughter. And that's when I turned around to push him back into a snowbank. But of course, he took me down with him. And then wouldn't let me get back up.

I wasn't sure what Caroline thought about the whole thing, but when I glanced back, she was strolling through the trees, snapping more photos.

She didn't care.

A small part of me ached for home, and I did give my parents a call that evening. We had a...bland conversation. It was what I'd come to expect with them. Well-wishes and concern. Too bad their actions didn't echo their words.

But it was still good to hear their voices. And it didn't keep me from soaking in every moment of the day. In fact, it only made me that much more thankful. As I had settled in bed that night with Bren softly snoring next to me, I realized that this was the first time that I'd ever truly felt Christmas.

Some people say that the spirit of Christmas is in the traditions, in the food, in the giving of gifts. For others, it might be found in religion.

But this year, I realized the spirit of Christmas was simply...love.

And it should sober me, knowing I'd never felt that before. But I was too happy to care.

It was almost a week after Christmas when Bren came up behind me while I was reading a book and whispered that we would have to return to Oakland early.

Surprised, I twisted to look at him. And what I found was odd. His expression was blank, cold, his lips in a hardened line.

"Like how early?" I asked. We weren't supposed to go back until the second week of January.

"In two days." Bren cleared his throat. His eyes flitted away, glancing over toward Caroline in the kitchen. "I got my old job at The Grounds back, and they need me to start on January 2nd."

"Okay. That's great you got the job back." I shrugged. It wasn't that big of a deal. It didn't really matter to me where we were, as long as we were together. But the expression on Bren's face concerned me. Reaching up, I cupped his cheek and forced him to look back at me. "What's wrong? Are you sad about leaving early?"

Bren didn't answer right away. He dragged his eyes slowly up, almost regretfully. Like he didn't want to meet my gaze. But then he did, and I saw the anguish there. "Yeah," he breathed finally. "I feel bad about leaving Caroline. It's just been really nice being back here. With you."

I nodded and rubbed my thumb lightly over his sharp cheekbone. "Well, we can do whatever you want for our last days here."

Covering my hand with his, Bren held it against his face for a moment before pulling away from me. "Caroline suggested a movie marathon tonight. She's going out for New Year's tomorrow night, though. What do you want to do to celebrate? I'll take you anywhere you want."

I raised a brow. He was so sweet. But I admittedly had other things on my mind. "If Caroline's going out...maybe we should stay in."

Bren smiled for the first time since he'd walked up to me to tell me about returning to Oakland.

"It's just," I went on to say, "it sounds like tomorrow will be our last night together."

His face screwed up at that. He made a weird choking sound before covering it with a cough. I jumped up, wrapping my arms around his waist. "Not like that!" I said, laughing as Bren's expression cleared. "I only meant that we're going to have to go back to sharing our rooms with Nessa and Beau. It won't be the same."

Bren seemed to have recovered, humor in his voice as he said, "So let me see if this sounds like what you're going for." He looked down at me, our eyes connecting, smoldering. Lowering his voice so Caroline wouldn't hear, he muttered, "For New Year's Eve, you're thinkin' me, you, a bed, a bottle of wine I'll sneak from Car's stash, and some take-out?"

I smiled. "Pretty much."

And that was pretty much what we did. At the beginning of the night, I'd been planning on putting on something cute—it was still kind of a date, after all—but Bren had caught me staring at my pile of clothes and matter-of-factly informed me that it didn't matter what I wore because he was going to take it off in a few minutes.

Which he did. Of course he did.

Bren took what I'd said to heart—about it being our last night to really be together for a while. I mean, he was always an emotionally intense guy. Sex with Bren was never just physical—from the first times when I was learning to love again to the times when we were holding onto that love and refusing to let go, refusing to let it, or us, die away.

But this was something else.

As the clock struck twelve and another year began, Bren made love to me like it was the end. Like it didn't even occur to him that this could be the start of something new.

The way he touched my skin made me wonder if he was memorizing it. And his kisses, god. His kisses were relentless, but they switched between being savoring and hurried, as if he couldn't decide if he wanted to lavish in the feeling of them or collect as many as he could. Then there were the words; the words Bren murmured in my ear were a mix of hot demands, telling me how he wanted me, and soft words, telling me how much he loved me.

He wouldn't let me go, either. He wouldn't let us go. We'd climb to an edge, a cliff, but he was never ready to fall. It was like he was scared of hitting the bottom again. He'd drive into me relentlessly until we were both ready to come undone, and then he'd still, flip us over, and start rocking slowly again, kissing me deeply. He wanted to make it last forever.

I wasn't sure what was going on. Maybe it was the nostalgia of ending a year in a completely different place than we'd started it. Maybe it was because things would never be quite the same as they were in that moment—at the stroke of a new year. Maybe it was because of what I'd said. That we wouldn't get this kind of chance to be together like this for a while.

I figured that was what it probably was. Because after it had been quiet for a long time, and Bren likely thought that I'd fallen asleep, he murmured something in my ear. "Even when we're not lying together, you're always going to be what's on my mind when I close my eyes at night, Madie."

There was a long pause then, and I began to slip away, sleeping pulling at me. But I still caught it. I caught it when Bren's voice dropped even further, and he said, "It doesn't matter where I am or where you are. It's always, always going to be you."

Somewhere in my mind, I whispered always.

And then Bren whispered it aloud too.

I didn't even think twice about it.

Not until the next day. Not until the moment when I realized what Bren was actually saying.

🤍
sorry- I meant to have this out sooner, but I literally fell asleep in front of my computer last night.
I think the Christmas music must've lulled me into slumber.
Thanks for reading!
xoxo amelie