Chapter 24 #2
Snow boots are not optional, even if you’re hot.
And then Grace reached the last page.
It wasn’t a cartoon. It was a printed photograph — grainy, imperfect, taken through a window. The two of them standing outside in Miami, mid-laugh, Alix’s head thrown back, Grace looking at her like she’d already decided.
Alix looked down at the photograph as an idea sparked in her mind. “Ah, wait, I just realized it needs one more thing.” She grabbed a pen and leaned over Grace to write around the edges of the photograph: Field Guide Update: Survival achieved. Next mission — see where this thing goes.
She caught Grace’s eye, her own cheeks warm with the kind of embarrassment of giving someone a gift that felt like a piece of your heart.
Grace didn’t speak for a long moment. The laughter that had bubbled so easily just seconds before softened into something that made Alix’s heart trip over itself.
“This is…” Grace swallowed hard, running her thumb along the photo’s edge. “Alix, this is the best thing anyone’s ever made for me.”
Alix shrugged, trying for casual and failing spectacularly. “I know it’s ridiculous, but—”
“No, I love it,” Grace said, her impossibly beautiful hazel eyes glinting.
The word hung heavy between them. Powerful and passionate.
“I’m glad you like it,” Alix finally said, her voice cracking with emotion as she laced their hands together again, lifting Grace’s fingers to her lips.
“I wanted to make a record of this. Proof that our friendship, and whatever else we may have, is something worth remembering.”
Helen’s voice rang up from the kitchen, something about lollygagging and Irish coffees and not letting the cinnamon rolls burn, and the spell of the moment shimmered but didn’t break.
Alix’s heart kicked against her ribs as she leaned in to kiss Grace again, but the door swung open with a dramatic bang. Paul sat in the doorway, expectant.
“Oh my God, did Mom send you?” Alix chastised the cat.
“My present for you is already wrapped under the tree,” Grace said. “Do you want me to go get it? It’s sentimental but it’s not… private.”
“I will proudly open it in public, then. I know you’re dying give the crew your perfect presents,” Alix said, grinning.
“I really am,” Grace confessed, standing as she pulled Alix to her feet. She leaned in and kissed Alix, a quick, familiar press of intimacy that felt like they’d kissed a thousand times. “Thank you again for the zine. It’s perfect.”
“You’re perfect,” Alix said, touching her forehead to Grace’s as her hands slid up the arms of silky pajama set she’d actually packed herself.
“Girls, Matt is about to pee his fucking pants waiting for you to come open these fucking presents,” Susan yelled, resulting in another round of hysterical laughter as they finally left the sanctuary of their private room.
Susan was already perched on the couch beside her husband, Steve, both nursing mugs of coffee. The twins, Whitney and Bobbi, sat cross-legged on the rug in matching plaid pajamas, faces buried in their phones like synchronized scrolling was an Olympic sport.
“About time!” Helen called, setting down a tray of cinnamon rolls. “Santa nearly gave up on you two.”
Alix shrugged. “I was giving her my gift.”
Matt snorted. “I bet you were.”
Alix flipped him off.
Her dad was by the fireplace, already dressed after feeding the horses. He gave Grace a small wave that somehow still radiated warmth. “Morning,” he said, voice gravel and honey.
Grace smiled. “Merry Christmas.”
“Sit, sit,” Helen said, flapping a dish towel. “I made coffee. And cocoa for the twins, because apparently our family genetics went wrong somewhere and they don’t like coffee.”
“Say, thank you Aunt Helen,” Susan prompted the girls.
“Thanks, Aunt Helen,” the twins mumbled in eerie unison.
Grace sat beside Alix on the couch, close enough that their thighs brushed.
Alix couldn’t stop the small, stupid grin tugging at her mouth.
She’d missed this kind of morning. Missed the noise, the teasing, the way the house itself seemed to hum with life.
And watching Grace in the middle of it, calm and shining and effortlessly fitting in, made something in her chest twist.
Presents began in the usual Wolf family chaos with paper flying, Helen trying to take photos on her phone but kept somehow locking the screen, Mick muttering “that’s nice” to every gift like a quiet spell of approval.
Then Grace stood, brushing a bit of ribbon off her lap. “I, um… actually brought a few things.”
“Grace, you didn’t need to—” Helen started.
“I wanted to,” Grace said, voice warm but sure. She handed Helen a carefully wrapped box tied with gold string. “This one’s for you.”
Helen opened it and went still. Inside was a small Instax camera with multiple rolls of film. “For instantly keeping memories,” Grace explained. Along with the camera was a small wooden frame with room for one picture, engraved with Wolf Family Christmas.
Alix looked on in wonder. She’d never considered such a good gift for her own mother before. She’d gotten the woman socks for the last ten years.
“Oh, honey,” Helen said, touching the glass. “It’s perfect.”
“I was hoping this Christmas would be one to remember. I can take the photo of your family for the frame after we get done, if you’d like,” Grace said.
Helen’s eyes shone. “You’re going to make me cry before coffee. And also, we’ll get Susan to take it. You’re not getting out of the family photo, darlin’.”
Grace’s smile turned momentarily shy. She turned to Mick. “And for you…”
He unwrapped a small, handmade leather wallet. Inside, neatly tucked into one slot, was a gift card to a hobby store.
“For your bottle ships,” Grace said.
Mick looked at it for a long moment. Alix held her breath, suddenly worried about what he might say. Her father was a man of very, very few words. Then, quietly he exhaled and smiled. “That’s real good, kiddo. Thank you.”
“Of course,” Grace said.
Alix’s heart did a full, swooping flip. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen her father look that moved, and certainly not by anyone outside the family.
Then came Matt’s turn. Grace handed him a small square box. “You were hard to shop for, but Alix said you were into music.”
He ripped the paper off, revealing a sleek set of guitar strings and a patch for his denim jacket embroidered with a howling wolf. “Dude,” he said, grinning. “That’s sick.”
Alix snorted. “I’ll have you all know I suggested nothing. She just has psychic-level good taste.”
Grace’s cheeks reddened. “I just wanted to make sure you all know how thankful I am to be here. Alix, here’s yours.”
Grace handed her a box, perfectly wrapped with forty-five-degree corner folds. Alix’s insides swooped like they were on a roller coaster.
She opened the wrapping carefully, only because it felt wrong to rip Grace’s hard work.
The box was plain, and she popped it open to find a custom painted moka pot, designed to look like their mornings in Aunt Sylvia’s backyard with palm trees and a tangerine and raspberry sunrise.
Very subtle doodles of scissors lined the bottom half, and near the handle was a tiny hand-drawn gator next to a sketch of Baby.
There was also a matching mug and a jar of Cuban coffee.
“This is stunning,” Alix said.
“What is it?” Helen asked.
“When we were in Miami, Grace taught me how to make Cuban coffee using this, a cafetera, and it was basically the best thing I’ve ever tasted,” Alix explained.
Grace was beaming. “She was a quick learner. She even taught the dog.”
Everyone looked mildly confused for a moment until Grace clapped with an idea. “We can make it for everyone,” she said excitedly.
Alix wrapped an arm around her and pulled her in to kiss the hair over her temple. “Thank you, Grace. This is perfect.”
“Okay,” Helen said, dabbing at her eyes with a napkin. “That’s it. She’s one of us. No take-backs.”
“Agreed,” Susan said cheerfully, lifting her coffee mug. “Cheers to finally having a lawyer in the family.”
“Cheers,” Steve echoed.
The twins looked up for half a second. “Cheers,” they said in perfect monotone before going back to their screens.
Alix laughed, warmth blooming through her chest. She gave Grace a squeeze, murmuring near her ear, “You’re showing me up, Gator.”
Grace leaned back just enough to whisper, “Just rising to the occasion.”
A camera flash startled Alix, and she glanced up to see that her mom was using her new Instax, pointed directly at them as a photo printed out. “So cute,” her mom was murmuring.
“I’m going to have to add more pages to the zine,” Alix said, holding the small polaroid photo in her hand as the image developed, revealing a picture of the two of them speaking low and close, nothing else existing in the world.
When the wrapping paper had finally stopped flying and cafecitos had been delivered and gushed over — her dad had requested a second cup — Helen clapped her hands together. “All right, before anyone disappears, it’s family picture time!”
Alix groaned. “Mom, it’s, like, eight in the morning.”
“It’s my gift,” Helen said. “Susan, press that small button.”
Susan, halfway through a cinnamon roll, sighed but stood up. “Everyone squeeze in. You know how she gets.”
Mick rolled his eyes and stayed seated in his armchair. “If I move, I’ll lose the good coffee light.”
“You’ll survive,” Helen said. “Grace, honey, come on, you too.”
Grace blinked from her spot on the couch. “Oh, no, really, I can take it—”
“Nope.” Helen waved her over like a general. “You’re family now, and we have the documentation to prove it.”
Grace looked startled but smiled. “I… okay.”
She slid to stand beside Alix, and Alix automatically wrapped an arm around her waist. The warmth of Grace’s side pressed against her, her hair brushing Alix’s cheek. She smelled like coffee and the vanilla lotion from her bag, and Alix had to remind herself to keep breathing.
“Closer,” Susan said from behind the camera. “This thing has a tiny frame. Everyone pretend you like each other.”
“Pretend?” Alix muttered.
Susan laughed. “On three. One, two—”
“Wait, Paul’s not in it!” Grace said, scooping up the cat.
Paul meowed, unimpressed, as he was held up like a baby.
“Perfect,” Helen said. “Now smile before he bites someone.”
The camera clicked.
Afterward, Grace stepped back, cheeks pink from laughter, brushing a bit of cat hair from her sweater. “Thank you,” she said to Helen. “For letting me be in the picture.”
Helen squeezed her hand. “Oh, sweetheart, you were already in it. We just made it official.”
Alix didn’t say anything. She couldn’t. Not without giving herself away. But when Grace looked at her, smiling that small, shy smile, Alix wanted to remember everything about this morning for the rest of her life.