Chapter 34
After dinner, we settle into the living room to exchange gifts.
Ben is over-the-top ecstatic about his new phone holder and Bluetooth speaker combo, immediately trying it out with a basketball highlight reel.
Maryanne tears up when she opens the recipe binder.
She runs her fingers over the strawberry-covered cover like it’s a long-lost heirloom.
The matching photo box for the originals nearly pushes her over the edge.
I’m absolutely floored when they hand me a large wrapped box of my own. Inside is a brand-new laptop.
“It’s for college,” Ben explains. “A graduation-slash-Christmas combo gift.”
I stare down at the laptop, speechless. “Thank you,” I manage, but my voice cracks a little. “Seriously. Thank you both so much.”
“I’ll cry again if you cry,” Maryanne warns with a watery smile.
Once we’re excused, I rush upstairs to grab the gifts I’ve stashed for the guys. Axel and Nik follow me to my room while Johnny heads into his. The space between us still hurts, but it’s becoming more manageable.
As soon as the door clicks shut behind us, Axel sucker punches Nik in the gut.
“Axel!” I shriek as Nik doubles over and drops to his knees.
“What the fuck, man?” Nik wheezes, clutching his middle.
“That’s for claiming our girlfriend without a team huddle, asshole,” Axel mutters, entirely unfazed.
Nik coughs, still grimacing. “Could’ve just sent a text.”
“Wait… am I actually your girlfriend?” This feels like a major group decision I wasn’t looped in on.
“Yes,” they both answer in perfect unison.
The matching looks they give me are deadly serious.
Okay, then. Guess I’m a girlfriend.
Nik exhales like he’s been hit twice. “Yeah, I deserved that. We good?”
Axel offers a hand. They fist bump and do that man-hug-slash-back-pat combo like that’s all it takes to forgive and forget.
Apparently, it is.
Nik and I exchange gifts first. I’m practically bouncing as I watch him peel away the wrapping paper and reveal the braided leather bracelet in black and deep blue with stainless steel accents.
“Carolina!” His eyes light up. “I love it.”
“Yeah? I noticed you always wear jewelry. It seemed like your style.” My gaze flicks to the rings on his fingers, and he lifts his wrist.
“Help me put it on?”
I fasten the magnetic clasp for him, and he rewards me with a kiss.
Nik’s gift to me is bigger than I expected, and I immediately start to worry he went overboard. When I remove the paper, I find a hand-crafted wooden chest, about the size of a shoebox. It’s stained a rich chestnut and finished smooth, with two antique-style metal clasps on the front.
“Open it,” he says softly.
I pop the latches and lift the lid. On the inside is a delicate engraving in neat cursive: Carolina with a small heart.
“I made it for you. It’s a keepsake box,” he says, suddenly shy.
“You made this?” My breath catches. “Nikolai, it’s incredible!” I wrap my arms around him. “I didn’t know you were this talented!”
“It was my final woodworking project. Our teacher let me use the laser engraver for your name. I’ve made a few small things before, but I’ve been thinking about trying furniture someday. Bigger pieces.”
“You should. You’ve got the skill,” Axel says, sounding genuinely impressed.
Nik sits up a little straighter at our praise. It warms something in me to know he values our support.
Next, Axel opens his fine liner pens and practically beams. “I was running low on a few of these,” he says, already testing them out on the back of the gift tag. “This is perfect.”
Then he opens the smaller box, and I immediately start to panic.
“That one’s kind of a gag gift,” I ramble. “You don’t have to use it. If it’s too dumb or you hate it, I promise I won’t be offended. You can toss it in a drawer or—”
“Princess?”
“Yeah?”
“Shut up and let me open my present.”
“Right.”
He finally tears through the wrapping and reads the quote aloud: ‘You know you love me, XOXO.’
“Gossip Girl?!” he gasps. “Princess! I’m going to cherish this forever. Where are my keys? I’m putting this on right now and never taking it off.”
He bolts through the bathroom into his room, and a moment later reappears triumphantly, keys in hand, the keychain already attached.
“It’s perfect.”
Axel hands me a rectangular box, neatly wrapped in matte black paper with a red ribbon. I untie it carefully, and inside I find a leather-bound sketchbook. Etched into the cover in small, clean lettering is a single word: Resilient.
“I called you resilient once, remember?” Axel asks quietly.
“Of course I do,” I say, deadpan. “It was right after you almost fucked things up between us.”
“Oh shit,” Nik cuts in, eyes lighting up. “I never heard this story…”
“It was after our first art class,” I explain, already grinning. “Axel got all jealous because I talked to you the whole time and then he said some stupid shit.”
“No! He didn’t!” Nik laughs like he’s just been gifted front-row seats to the drama.
“Yeah,” I confirm, shooting Axel a look. “But then he apologized and told me I was resilient.”
“I meant it,” Axel says more seriously now. “And I wanted you to have a reminder. Something you could look at every day, especially when things get hard.”
“Aww,” I tease, giving him a look. “You think I’m gonna use this every day?”
Axel mutters something unintelligible, cheeks pink, while I flip through the pristine pages. Something catches my eye. Tucked about a third of the way in is a drawing.
“Axel!” I gasp. “You drew this?”
In clean black ink, a fierce woman stares up at me. Her hair is made of serpents. It’s realistic, wild, powerful. It’s undoubtedly Medusa.
“She’s from Greek mythology,” he says softly. “A lot of people don’t know this, but she’s become a symbol for sexual assault survivors.”
I trace one of the elegant lines with my finger. Her eyes are defiant, unbroken. She’s beautiful and terrifying all at once.
“She’s phenomenal,” I whisper. “I love this so, so much. Thank you.”
I lean over and press a gentle kiss to his lips.
Axel and Nik exchanged their gifts earlier, so after the emotional moment passes, we settle onto the bed to watch another Christmas movie. It’s perfect, being snuggled between two people who’ve become irreplaceable in such a short period of time. But something tugs at me.
When the movie’s well underway, I sit up and quietly excuse myself.
“I’ll be right back.”
I slip out into the hallway, pulling the door shut behind me. My heart thuds in my chest, and every step toward Johnny’s room feels heavier than the last. I don’t want to do this, but it’s the right thing. And it’s overdue.
I stop in front of his closed door and knock gently.
“Come in,” he calls.
When I push the door open, he’s sprawled across his bed with a book, but he immediately sits up the second he sees me.
“Lina,” he says, clearly surprised.
Honestly, I’m surprised I’m here, too.
His room is warmer than I expected. Posters of old movies and classic rock bands line the walls, and a massive bookshelf stands against one side, crammed full, with even more books stacked on top.
“I didn’t know you liked to read,” I murmur, walking in slowly. I trail my fingers along the spines of nonfiction on wars, horror, and even some high fantasy. His tastes are eclectic, and somehow, fitting.
“I do,” he answers.
The silence stretches thin between us.
“Anyways, Merry Christmas,” I say, stepping closer and pulling a small, wrapped box from where I’d hidden it in the folds of my skirt. I hold it out to him.
He stares at it for a beat, then takes it from me with tentative hands. He doesn’t open it right away. Just holds it in his lap like he can’t quite believe it’s real. And honestly, I get it. I can’t believe I got him a gift, either. After everything. God knows he probably doesn’t deserve it.
“Well, go on,” I encourage. “Open it.”
He gently peels back the wrapping paper to reveal a sleek black box. When he lifts the lid, his eyes widen and he lets out a low whistle.
“Hon—” he catches himself, “Lina. It’s beautiful.”
He pulls out the tactical knife and flips it open. The Damascus steel blade glints under the light, and the wooden handle, an elegant swirl of tan, brown, and royal blue, looks custom and expensive. It wasn’t, but I’m glad it looks like it was.
“I hope you like it,” I say softly.
I start to turn, ready to head back to my room, but his voice stops me.
“Lina, wait.”
Slowly, I turn back to face him.
“I… I have something for you too.”
“You do?”
“Of course I do,” he says. “Can you sit for a few minutes, please? There’s kind of a story that goes along with it.”
He nods to the desk chair near his bed, and I hesitate for a breath before walking over and sinking into the seat. I sit across from him, trying not to fidget. His hands rub up and down his thighs, nervous energy practically radiating off him.
I stay quiet, letting him gather his thoughts. He’s clearly working through something big, and it takes everything in me not to reach for him, but I don’t think he’d want that from me. Not anymore.
“My gift has two parts,” he says finally. “I’ve got an actual gift for you, yeah, but the first part is a story. My story,” he clarifies, noticing my confusion. “I need to tell you what happened in my past. So maybe… you’ll understand me a little better.”
Realization hits, and I shake my head gently. “Johnny, you don’t have to—”
“I know I don’t have to.” His voice is steady, but his eyes are pleading.
“I want to. I know I’ve hurt you. I’ve been cold, hot, moody as hell.
Telling you this won’t erase that, and it won’t magically make everything okay.
But maybe it’ll help you understand why I’ve made some of the choices I’ve made.
Why I keep pulling away when I don’t want to. ”
I exhale. “Okay.”
Whatever he’s about to say, whether it’s good, bad, or gutting, I want to hear it. Maybe I need to.