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She couldn’t quite explain the tight, breathless feeling in her chest—only that no one had ever given her Christmas before. Felicity had tried, scraping together what little extra they had, but it was never anything like this. And before Felicity… there had been no Christmas at all. Just endless darkness and pain and fear from the man who was supposed to be her father.
So when breakfast was finished and the family started handing out gifts, Sage had tucked herself against Bear’s solid side and simply watched. She let everyone else’s joy fill her up until she felt brave enough to open her own.
She still wasn’t sure she was ready. But Isabelle was giving her that look—the one that said we’re doing this whether you’re ready or not, babe—while the rest of the family waited with warm, patient eyes. All except Cal.
He looked at her like he’d happily carry her upstairs and forget the presents entirely.
That was what finally tipped her over the edge. Her man wanted her. Wanted this for her.
“Okay,” she said, voice small but steady. She tried not to sound as raw as she felt. “Okay… fine.”
The room erupted in cheerful noise. Cal’s smile—slow, proud, just for her—made her heart stutter.
The first box was art supplies.
Not just any art supplies. These were the ones she used to stand in front of in the store, heart aching as she calculated whether she could even afford the smallest travel set. This one came in a flat, custom wooden case, smooth walnut gleaming under the tree lights. Her name was engraved on the lid in small, clean letters: Sage.
I can’t believe this. I just… can’t.
Inside lay professional-grade charcoal pencils, graphite sticks, blending stumps, kneaded erasers, and a breathtaking set of watercolors in shades she didn’t even know had names. A massive collection of high-end oil paints, canvases in every size, a sturdy easel, soft pastels, and horsehair brushes from Germany in every imaginable size and shape.
She stared at it all for a long, stunned moment. The room had gone quiet. Michael and Isabelle were smiling at her with open affection. Mary Sue had turned slightly away, dabbing at her eyes. Annie and the kids watched in wide-eyed awe. And Cal—fucking Cal Meridian—sat there looking perfectly innocent, like he hadn’t just handed her the entire world wrapped in ribbon.
“Cal, I… how—”
He gave her that soft, devastating smile. “Guess Santa thought you’d been a good girl this year.”
Sage’s heart flipped hard. Heat rushed through her as she pressed her thighs together, already aching.
Yeah well put me on the naughty list daddy because later you're mine, she thought, sending him a look so full of filthy promise it made his ears flush crimson.
Got you, Babe.
“There’s more,” he said quickly, voice a little rough as she took one deliberate step toward him. From across the room, Isabelle made a sound that was definitely a laugh poorly disguised as a cough.
Sage held his gaze for another heartbeat, then turned back toward the tree with a secret, trembling smile.
The hiking boots came next. Her exact size, already broken in just enough that she didn’t dare ask how he knew. Deep brown leather with bold red laces—perfectly, almost accusingly her.
Then the miniature version of his own custom leather-and-shearling trench coat in rich coffee and amber brown, complete with a little note pinned to the lapel: Don’t worry, you can keep stealing mine.
Her eyes welled up. She swiped at them quickly and lifted her chin, trying for haughty. “I don’t steal yours… I borrow it. A lot.”
Cal’s laugh rolled through the room, warm and loving, his eyes bright with amusement.
“There is a difference, Daddy,” she added primly.
Isabelle and Annie lost it.
Next came the glossy black ice skates. The sight of them pulled her straight back to that frozen pond weeks ago—her trying to teach him how to skate, laughing harder than she ever had while he kept landing titanically on the ice. The same day she had the nightmare. The night Cal had crashed through her locked door, scooped her up, and held her for hours on the porch wrapped in his coat while they finally opened their hearts to each other. The night everything changed.
She sighed, soft and happy, and set the skates aside like something precious.
The MacBook Pro made her go quiet. The weight of it in her hands felt so real, so permanent. She looked up and found Cal watching her with that expression she loved best—the one he tried so hard to keep neutral and failed at completely.
“Are you kidding? A computer? No—if you say one more word about Santa, I’m going to—”
He just smiled, slow and sure. You’re happy, his eyes told her. Good. That’s everything to me, baby girl.
