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Mrs. B is pouring fresh coffee into a mug. She looks at us over the rim and smiles.
Nothing dramatic.
No big announcement.
Just a smile.
And somehow, it's enough.
Declan is sprawled across the couch with the remote in his hand when we enter the living room. Coach is arguing that Christmas Vacation is a better movie, and Mrs. B tells them both she's not listening to another debate before the movie even starts.
Delaney settles into the armchair beside the tree, pulling the quilt over her knees.
I take the spot on the couch nearest her.
Close enough that when she stretches her foot toward me beneath the blanket, I can rest my hand against her ankle. Nobody notices. Or maybe Mrs. B does. Hard to tell with that woman.
Declan tosses me a throw pillow. “Bish. Back me up. Home Alone is a Christmas classic.”
I catch it.
“Coach has a point.”
“Traitor.”
I grin.
“Wouldn't be Christmas without disappointing you, Beckett.”
He laughs and turns back to the television.
Across the room, Delaney looks at me.
And smiles.
I've spent most of my life believing the best way to keep the people I love is never to give them a reason to leave.
But that's not how this works.
Not with Delaney.
Not with the Becketts.
They're not asking me to be perfect.
They're asking me to be honest.
I look at the woman sitting beside the Christmas tree, wrapped in a quilt with her coffee balanced on the arm of the chair.
My best friend's little sister.
My favorite person.
The second wish I never thought I'd get.
Declan's going to find out.
He might be pissed.
