A Taylor Christmas

Chapter 12 - Act of Love

1 day to Christmas

**Will's POV**

I hate family holidays.

I doubt there's anything more arduous than having to spend a day surrounded by happy-go-lucky kids, self-absorbed teens and career-driven big brothers. And it's not only their boisterous behavior that makes me want to run for the hills when I can only as much as spot such an occasion coming up on the self-crafted calendar hanging in the kitchen – but the cringe-worthy activities that are a constant companion during said family holidays.

I swear, if I see one more grinning face framed by a stupid Santa's hat, I am going to grow a stomach ulcer and start puking my guts out. Or, if it's the little kiddies – who are kind of innocent in all this shit, I have to give them that – I'll probably get cavities and end up having all my rotten teeth removed.

I've always loathed the holidays, with Christmas being at the very top of the most-hated list. The reason being that it's not just one fucking day but three in a freakin' row. At least in our family, it is.

When we first grew up, holidays were non-existent. And just to think that back then, I actually considered it unfair that we didn't celebrate any holidays that the other kids at school went all crazy about. At least I have one thing to be grateful to our birthgiver for: she obviously knew how dreadful these occasions are and at least protected us from having to experience it.

I admit, however, that it was kinda cute when we first were standing in our new living room in front of a big ass Christmas tree, and Jack's eyes almost jumped out of their sockets at the sight. His little face lit up so much that it almost outdid the enormous amount of Christmas lights that somebody had rather sloppily wrapped around the gigantic tree. The whole art work was displaying a rather desperate attempt at decoration, too, but for some reason it remains one of my favorite memories of our first year with our brothers. Much to my annoyance, as it kinda defeats my deeply ingrained hatred for anything Christmas-related.

But that is not even my biggest issue at the moment.

Because I'm majorly fucked.

Or more like: I have majorly fucked up.

And that is on more than one account, within only a couple of days. I am breaking my own record here, it seems. As the proverbial black sheep of the Taylor clan, I should not be too surprised to find myself up shit creek without a paddle at regular intervals. But I have managed to get myself into two undesirable situations all at once. One of these situations might have been caused by the other, which somehow makes it even worse.

My baby sister, that little troll, is the second of the two issues I have to deal with.

Normally, it wouldn't really bother me if any of my baby sibs are upset with me – not even Jack, and that kid still owns a special place in my heart, for various reasons. I definitely consider it my prerogative as an older brother to annoy them, ignore them or treat them like the dirt underneath my shoes, if I feel like it. It has all been done to me, too, growing up in this alpha-male-dominated household with seven older brothers. I'm just keeping up with the tradition.

Gosh, how am I even still alive with all these siblings breathing down my neck?

Anyway, inexplicably, it always kinda puts me in a strange mood if Lily, our resident princess and, unfortunately, the cutest fuckin' mini human I've ever met, is upset with me.

It's even worse when I am solely responsible for making her hate my guts. Which I can't even blame her for. I messed up and deliberately didn't show up when they had their nativity play at school. Now, obviously, attending diabetes-inducing nativity plays at school is, like, the most uncool thing to do and I wouldn't want to be caught dead showing my face there. But I genuinely intended to break one of my most sacred principles when she begged me the other day to please attend.