Chapter 26 Brooks
Brooks
Which meant Annie and I had work to do.
“Brooks!” Annie whispered, arms stacked with boxes as she tiptoed through the living room. Her red flannel pajama pants were twisted around her legs, hair messy from sleep, but her eyes sparkled like she was a kid herself. “Don’t just stand there. Grab those bags!”
I jumped, clutching the handle of a big gift bag overflowing with tissue paper. “Yes, ma’am,” I muttered with a grin, following her lead.
The living room was dark except for the twinkle lights on the Christmas tree.
Gold, green, and red sparkled against the ornaments decorating the tree.
The stockings swayed on the fireplace mantle, fat with small surprises Annie had packed.
And the air carried that quiet hush, the kind that felt sacred—like the house itself knew what day it was.
We set the gifts down under the tree, working quickly, whispering like two co-conspirators. Annie knelt on, arranging the presents so the bigger ones fanned out behind and the smaller ones peeked in front. Her hands were efficient, but her smile gave her away—she was enjoying every second.
“You know,” I said, crouching beside her, “you’ve got more of Santa in you than you realize.”
She shot me a look over her shoulder, cheeks flushing. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
“I’m serious. The planning, the lists, the magic… you’ve been at this pretty damn hard.” I nudged a shiny box toward her. “You don’t even need a sleigh.”
“Seven years of practice does that to you,” she murmured, but I could tell she was pleased.
I reached into one of the bags and pulled out the plush pony. Its mane gleamed soft and white under the tree lights. Annie gasped softly, brushing her fingers over it.
“Brooks…” she whispered, her throat tight. “She’s going to lose her mind.”
“That’s the point. It looks just like yours,” I said, winking as I set it front and center.
We moved around each other, stacking, adjusting, whisper-laughing when a box almost tipped or when the wrapping paper crinkled too loud. Every sound seemed dangerous, like it might wake Ruby before we were ready.
By the time the last bow was fluffed, Annie let out a breath and sat back on her heels. “Okay. I think that’s everything… wait!”
She pounced up, running to the kitchen and grabbing flour from the cabinet. When she returned, she sprinkled it along the fireplace, making it look like Santa was truly here.
That was pretty damn clever.
I stood, stretching, then caught sight of the plate of cookies and glass of milk Ruby had set out by the fireplace the night before. A little card sat propped beside them in her careful handwriting: For Santa.
And that’s when it hit me.
“Oh, hell,” I muttered.
Annie looked up. “What?”
“Santa can’t leave without eating his cookies.
” I bolted for the plate, hurdling the coffee table, and snatching up a sugar cookie shaped like a star.
Without thinking, I took a big bite, crumbs tumbling down my chin.
Then I grabbed the glass of milk and tipped it back, swallowing just enough to leave a convincing dent.
When I set them down again, Annie had her hand over her mouth, giggling like she couldn’t help it.
“You’re insane,” she whispered.
“Authenticity,” I said, brushing crumbs off my chest. “It’s all about the details.”
Her laugh filled the room, soft but bright, and for a moment I just stood there staring at her. She was home, laughter, love in every corner.
Then—
A floorboard creaked.
Annie froze. “Oh. She’s up.”
We scrambled into position, Annie diving for the couch, me diving to lie with her like we hadn’t just been Santa’s accomplices.
Tiny feet pounded down the hall. Then Ruby appeared, hair wild, wearing her Christmas pajamas with candy canes all over them. Her eyes were huge, glowing, like she might burst into confetti at any second.
“HE CAME!” she shrieked, voice so loud I swore the walls shook.
I pressed my hand to my chest in mock relief. “Thank goodness. I was worried he’d forget about Snowberry Peak.”
Ruby didn’t even hear me because she was already sprinting for the tree. Annie and I exchanged a look, hers soft and misty, mine grinning ear to ear.
Ruby dropped to her knees on the rug, eyes darting over every present, hands hovering like she didn’t know which to touch first. “There’s so many! Oh my gosh, oh my gosh.” She leaned close to the plate, squealing. “He ate the cookie! He drank the milk!”
I cleared my throat, sitting straighter. “Well, you know… flying around the world in one night works up an appetite.”
Ruby whipped her head toward me, suspicious. “How do you know?”
I widened my eyes innocently. “Uh… because Santa told me once. In Texas. Rodeo stop.”
She gasped. “You’ve met him twice?”
“Sure did. Big guy. Real beard. Smelled like gingerbread.”
Ruby clapped her hands, bouncing in place, too thrilled to question me further. Annie shot me a look that clearly said real smooth, her smile never wavered.
Ruby dove into her presents, squeals filling the air every time she ripped through paper.
A dollhouse. A new coat with fur on the hood.
Books she’d begged Annie for. The pony made her scream so loud I thought the neighbors might call to check on us.
She hugged it tight, whispering something to it like it was already her best friend.
Watching her… it did something to me. The way her joy spread through the whole house. Annie had gotten up to sit beside her, laughing, wiping happy tears every time Ruby threw herself into her arms—it filled me up in places I didn’t know were empty.
Ruby ripped through the last package, holding up her new art set like it was a treasure. “This is the best Christmas ever!” she declared, cheeks flushed pink with happiness.
“Santa must really like you,” Annie said, hugging her again.
Ruby pulled back, face suddenly serious. “I think… Santa had help.” Her gaze darted between Annie and me, suspicion mixing with her smile.
My heart gave a lurch.
Annie glanced at me, then leaned down to press a kiss to Ruby’s hair. “Maybe,” she whispered, her voice thick. “But only because you deserve the world.”
Ruby grinned, satisfied with that, and went back to playing with her toys.
I leaned back against the couch, watching the two of them, my chest tight. Annie came to sit with me again, her hand slipped over mine, soft, warm, grounding. Our fingers threaded together without a word.
In that moment—lights twinkling, wrapping paper scattered, Ruby humming carols under her breath—I realized this wasn’t just Christmas. It was everything I’d been missing. And maybe, just maybe, everything I’d been searching for.