𝑼𝑵𝑬𝑿𝑷𝑬𝑪𝑻𝑬𝑫 | 𝑐ℎ𝑎𝑠𝑒 𝑑𝑎𝑣𝑒𝑛𝑝𝑜𝑟𝑡

𝐴𝑁 𝑈𝑁𝐸𝑋𝑃𝐸𝐶𝑇𝐸𝐷 𝐶𝐻𝑅𝐼𝑆𝑇𝑀𝐴𝑆

─────⊰ ✦.*🥀*.✦ ⊱─────

　　 𝐂𝐇𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐌𝐀𝐒 𝐇𝐀𝐒 𝐀𝐋𝐖𝐀𝐘𝐒 𝐁𝐄𝐄𝐍 a little bittersweet for me, ever since Grandma passed. Grandpa tries his best to make it special, but I can see how much it costs him. His bones ache, his energy fades so quickly these days. Still, when the Davenports invited both of us to spend the holidays here, he agreed with a soft smile and a quiet squeeze of my hand. I know it's mostly for me, but that's Grandpa—always thinking of everyone else first.

The Davenport house practically blinds me as Bree whisks me across the snowy street. Strings of lights cover the roof, the porch, even the fence, like the whole place is competing with the North Star. I can almost hear Grandpa chuckle beside me when he sees it, shaking his head at the "overdoing" of Christmas spirit, though I know he secretly likes the cheer.

Inside, the smell of cinnamon and sugar hangs in the air, but it's quickly interrupted by the acrid sting of smoke. Adam is fanning the oven with a potholder, blackened cookies smoking on a tray. Bree groans, and I bite back a laugh.

'Who put all those lights up outside? People already think we're weird, we don't need to shine a spotlight on it,' Bree mutters.

'I did,' Adam announces proudly, chest puffed. 'I wanted to make sure Santa comes to our house first.'

I hide a smile, though my mind drifts. Sometimes I wonder what it would be like to live inside Adam's head—would it be quiet, almost peaceful, or just an endless circus of half-baked ideas? Probably both.

Before I can tease him, Chase stumbles in, wrapped up in tangles of Christmas lights like some dark, grumpy angel. His hair is mussed, his jaw clenched, and even though he looks annoyed, my heart does that traitorous skip it always does when he enters a room.

'Go back out there, you're ruining my display!' Adam yells.

'You're lucky a raccoon chewed me free,' Chase snaps back, the muscles in his forearm flexing as he tears the last strand away.

I step forward without thinking, slipping my fingers through the wires to help. The lights are cold, smooth against my skin, and every time our hands brush, a tiny spark shoots up my arm. He notices too—I can tell by the quick flick of his eyes to mine, the corner of his mouth twitching like he's holding back a smile.

'Cheer up a little. It's Christmas,' I murmur, gently tugging the final strand loose.

'I don't even know what it's like to celebrate Christmas,' he admits, voice lower now, meant for me alone. 'All I know is, I get to spend the next couple of days with you... surrounded by my family.'

The words lodge in my chest, warm and heavy, and then he leans in and kisses me. Soft at first—barely a brush of his lips on mine. Then another. And another. Each kiss lingers longer than the last, until I'm certain I'd let him go on forever.

I love it when he kisses me like that—slow, deliberate, like he's mapping out every inch of my soul. It makes me want more. It makes me ache.

'Chase,' I whisper, but it comes out as more of a plea than a word.

'Hmm?' His eyes glimmer, mischievous, before he presses one last kiss to the corner of my mouth and pulls away, smug and far too pleased with himself.

Before I can recover, Grandpa clears his throat gently from across the room. He's settled into one of the Davenports' plush chairs, watching the chaos with that soft, indulgent smile of his. 'Don't let me interrupt,' he says kindly, though his eyes sparkle with amusement.

My face burns. 'Grandpa!'

He chuckles, lifting his hands in surrender. 'I remember being your age, Addy. Don't think I don't.'