Chapter 10 Axel
Axel
Soft winter light creeps in through the curtains of my mom’s guest room waking me early.
The smell of cinnamon rolls and fresh coffee drifts from the kitchen, mingling with the earthy scent of pine from the Christmas tree seeping in from the cracked bedroom door.
Glancing over, I smile at Teagan curled up snugly, her blonde hair spread out over the pillow like a halo.
It’s like a dream—her here, surrounded by my family. Yesterday, her wide blue eyes caught on all the lights like stars dancing on the night ocean. My mom’s house is warm, cozy, the scent of evergreens lingering in the air, and outside, a thick blanket of snow rests peacefully over the world.
I can’t remember the last time I woke up this excited. Maybe it’s because Christmas feels different this year. Teagan is here. She’s part of this. The last two days have been a whirlwind—preparations, laughter, and now, here we are on Christmas morning.
I can barely contain my excitement as I lean over and gently nudge her. “Teagan, it’s Christmas.”
She blinks up at me, her eyes still heavy with sleep, and a slow, contented smile spreads across her face. It’s the same smile I’ve seen a hundred times, but today it feels like it’s meant just for me, and it’s brighter than any holiday light.
“Merry Christmas,” she murmurs, her voice thick with the last traces of sleep. I can’t help but kiss her softly. Her lips, cool and soft, taste faintly of peppermint.
When she sits up, rubbing her eyes and stretching, her gaze lands on the tree.
The twinkling lights catch her attention, and her finger points toward the Fraser Fir, her eyes lighting up as she takes in the gifts stacked beneath it.
The sound of Finley’s laughter drifts from the kitchen, and the smell of breakfast fills the air. It’s perfect.
Finley’s the first to burst in with a loud, “Merry Christmas,” before practically tackling Teagan with a hug.
Teagan lets out a laugh, a joyful sound fit for the holiday, as Finley pulls back to hold her at arm’s length.
I watch the two of them so different yet, so similar—Teagan with her quiet grace and Finley with her bold energy.
But they fit together perfectly, like two halves of a whole.
“Hurry up and come eat so we can open gifts.” She squeezes Teagan then bolts out of the room so we can get dressed.
As we get closer to the kitchen the familiar smell of eggs, bacon, and homemade pancakes wafts in from the other room. My stomach growls at the thought of the spread they’ve probably got going.
By the time Teagan and I make our way our grumbling stomachs are ready to be filled. The kitchen is bustling with energy—Finley dances around with a spatula in hand, adding the finishing touches to a mountain of scrambled eggs, while my mom stirs a pot of homemade sausage gravy.
“Good morning, you two,” Mom says with a smile. “Come sit down before everything gets cold. We’ve got enough food to feed an army today.”
Teagan smiles, but I can see the slight hesitation in her eyes. She’s never had a family Christmas like this before. But when she sits down at the table, Finley slides a plate of fluffy pancakes in front of her and laughs. “You’re going to need all the energy for gift-opening!”
We dig in, the food so good it almost makes me forget about everything else. Laughter bounces around the table. My mom’s homemade biscuits are always a favorite, and I can tell Teagan is enjoying everything—the atmosphere, the love, the feeling of being part of something real, something whole.
After we’ve stuffed ourselves to the brim, and the plates are cleared away, we all settle into the living room, the soft glow of the Christmas tree lighting up the space.
The fireplace crackles, sending the occasional popping sound as the flames dance.
The cold outside becomes a distant memory, replaced by the heat of family and warmth from the fire.
I lean back into the couch, content, my arm resting casually around Teagan’s shoulders.
She’s sitting close to me, her body relaxed, but I feel a little nervous tremor in her hand as she smooths down the skirt of her dress, her fingers brushing over the lace.
She’s not used to this—used to feeling this kind of love—but she’s here now, and this family is hers, too.
Finley jumps up suddenly, her voice bright. “Are you all ready for presents or what?”
Teagan laughs softly, a quiet, genuine sound that makes me smile. Her eyes flick toward me, and I see the joy there, but also a flicker of something else.
“Since you’re the guest of honor you open your gifts first. Okay?” Finley hands Teagan the first gift before she even has a chance to answer.
Teagan hesitates, looking at the box in her hands like it’s a delicate piece of glass.
Traces of uncertainty glint in her eyes as she pulls at the paper, her fingers trembling just a little.
When the paper falls away, revealing a hand-carved wooden ornament—one my dad painstakingly whittled and made himself, and mom hand-painted—Teagan’s face lights up.
A small gasp escapes her as her heart-shaped lips part in surprise, and those gorgeous glacier-blue eyes grow shiny with unshed tears.
“This is... beautiful,” her barely audible voice catches on the last word. But nothing is more beautiful than her in this room.
I lay my hand gently on her knee, watching her closely.
Teagan’s always been good at hiding her emotions, but I can see them in her eyes now—gratitude, disbelief, love.
I know she doesn’t have family of her own.
We all know about her losses, dreading the holidays—but seeing her so overwhelmed makes my heart ache for her.
Without thinking, my arm that’s draped over her shoulder tugs her into my side. "It’s just a small token of how much we care, Teagan,” I say quietly. “You’ve always been a part of this family.”
Her mouth opens, but no words come out. She just nods, her eyes full to the brim with tears. Looking up at me, a solemn tear escapes gliding down her cheek as she hugs the ornament to her chest like it’s the most precious gift she’s ever received in the entire world.
I swallow hard, feeling a tightness in my chest. She deserves this. All of this. She deserves the entire damn world and so much more.
Finley grins, practically bouncing on her heels. “Okay, now open mine!” She hands Teagan a large box wrapped in gold foil, her excitement contagious. This gets a giggle out of Tegan and she wipes away her happy tears, it gets a full-on belly laugh out of Dad and Mom, and a light chuckle out of me.
Teagan’s smile is brighter this time as she carefully peels away the wrapping, her fingers curling around the paper.
Inside is a cozy scarf that my sister wove for her by hand, thick and soft, in shades of light and dark purple, of course, Teagan’s favorite color.
Finley beams proudly, her eyes glinting mischievously.
“I figured this would keep you warm during those chilly morning coffee runs.” Finley winks, clearly pleased with herself.
Teagan laughs through more happy tears, the sound rich and genuine. “I’ll wear it every day.”
I watch as she hugs Mom, Dad, and Fin, her face flushed, overwhelmed.
The joy radiating from her is infectious, and my chest swells with pride and love.
My family has embraced her. They’ve shown her kindness in a way I can’t even put into words.
Someone’s doing their best to kill her dream but in this moment it feels like the weight of the world has been lifted off her shoulders—if only for today.
When she opens my gift, her hands are barely stable, but she’s smiling.
The necklace I’d picked out for her glimmers in the soft morning light, the gold heart-shaped locket is engraved with the date we met, even though we were teens, I’ll never forget the day her crystal blues locked on mine.
Now inside the locket holds pictures of her parents and grandmother on one side, then she and I are on the other.
“I thought it was the perfect way to remind you that you’re never alone,” I say, taking the necklace from her hand and gently fastening it around her neck.
Her fingers flutter as they brush against the pendant, the movement delicate, as though her touch might break something fragile. Her lips barely part, unsteady, as she whispers, “Axel, I—”
For a second, she doesn’t speak. But her eyes say everything—gratitude, wonder, and the kind of quiet joy that hits me in the chest like a tidal wave.
“Now it’s your turn.” Teagan hesitates as she hands me a small package, her fingers grazing mine. There’s something in her eyes—a mix of nervousness and determination—that makes my chest tighten.
“It’s… personal,” she murmurs, her voice barely above a whisper. “But I want you to have it.”
I pull the paper away, revealing an old leather journal. The cover is worn, softened over time. My thumb grazes the edges, feeling the weight of it—not just in my hands, but what it all means.
“It’s mine,” she says, her cheeks flush as she glances at the journal then back at me.
“I started writing in it when I was sixteen. About you. About us—or, well, the idea of us.” She lets out a nervous laugh, tucking her hair behind her ear.
“I was just a teenager, and I didn’t know what to do with how I felt, so I wrote it down. And… kept writing.”
Her words hit me like a punch all at once. I glance down, flipping through the pages, her handwriting curling across the paper in neat, careful lines.
“Read the first page,” she says softly, her voice shaking.
I start at the beginning, where her words are clear and innocent, but so full of emotion it’s like I can hear her teenage self speaking to me.
“Dear journal, today I felt something flutter in my chest toward Axel Pembroke. He’s my best friend’s brother, so I shouldn’t even think about him like this, but I can’t help it.
His smile did something to me—made my chest feel tight and light at the same time.
I think I’ll keep this to myself, though. No one else needs to know.”
I look up at her, but she motions for me to keep going. I flip further into the journal, reading entries where she wrote about watching me build my company, how she noticed the way I cared for my sister and parents, how she wondered if I’d ever see her as more than an honorary sister.
Her voice breaks the silence. “There’s a part from when I went to Paris, too. I thought the distance would help me forget you. But it didn’t. Instead, I’d sit by the Seine and write about how much I missed you—how much I wanted to come home and see if you’d notice me.”
I close the journal, overwhelmed. The weight of her feelings—spanning years, captured in ink and pressed into these pages—it’s like a punch to the gut.
“You’ve kept all this bottled up?” I ask, my voice low and uneven.
“I didn’t know if I’d ever have the courage to say it out loud,” she admits. “But now… now I think you should know how much you’ve meant to me. How long I’ve loved you, Axel.”
For a moment, the room is silent except for the distant whirl of the snowstorm outside and the random crackle of the fireplace. I take her face in my hands, my heart thrashing wildly inside my ribcage. “Teagan,” I murmur, my voice rough, “you didn’t have to say it. I think I’ve always known.”
I can’t stop myself. Slowly, I lean in, my forehead brushing hers for just a second before I close the gap.
Our lips meet in a kiss so soft, it feels like breathing. It’s not rushed or desperate—it’s steady, delicate, tender, and full of all the unspoken things I’ve wanted to say for years. Her hands come up to rest against my chest, her fingers curling into my shirt as she leans into me.
When we pull apart, her eyes shine, and her lips curve into the kind of smile that makes me feel like the luckiest man alive.
“I’ve always loved you, too,” I whisper, brushing my thumb across her cheek.
Her laugh is quiet as she rests her head against my chest. Dad’s voice breaks the silence.
“Now that was a gift wrapped in love.”
The room burst out in laughter.
“Yes, Dad it was,” I confirm. Indeed, it was.
This Christmas is everything and more.