Chapter 26 Tash
Tash
A once-in-a-lifetime Christmas Eve snowstorm covered the Meyer house, piled on fence posts and porch rails, smoothing the drive into a ribbon of white velvet.
From the window, Laurel Gap looked like it had been thrown into a snow globe and shaken by giants.
The wind sawed at the glass now and then, but inside, the world was nothing but gold firelight and the soft, soon-to-be pandemonium of family Christmas Eve.
The twins pressed their faces to the front window, breath fogging up double circles. They didn't even bother pretending to be cool about it.
Fifi tapped the pane, hard enough to rattle the holly garland Livia had twined along the sill. "So much snow! For Christmas!"
Mere didn't answer, but her fingers traced hearts in the condensation, one after the other, so the whole window looked tattooed with hope.
Behind them, Huey snored under the Christmas tree, his belly full of homemade dog biscuits courtesy of Maeve.
He sported a bowtie so crooked it looked like he'd escaped a pet parade.
If the world were fair, he'd have been the cover model for every "Cute Dog Christmas" greeting card ever made.
His back leg kicked every so often, thumping against the gifts as if he was working through a serious dream sequence.
Lola crouched on the back of the couch, watching everyone with the smug, half-lidded judgment of a Roman emperor. Every time Huey twitched, Lola flicked her tail, warning the world not to test her.
The living room was so perfect it almost hurt.
Livia had steered the holiday from top to bottom.
From the fire burning low and steady, to the cookies stacked like architectural marvels on heavy glass platters, the tea brewing in delicate cups that caught the light like stained glass.
Even the air was scented, with the ever-present cinnamon and something sweet I couldn't quite name.
I scanned the mantle and the garland and the twinkling lights and wondered if anybody else in the county could've done better.
Chance leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, eyeing the room with a mixture of awe and dry amusement. When he caught Livia fussing with a tray of lemon bars, he lobbed the first shot. "You know, some people say ‘understated' is in this year. Have you ever tried that?"
Livia didn't miss a step. "Understated is overrated." A shadow crossed her expression. "I have a lot of time to make up for."
He snorted, but he gave her a thoughtful look. I didn't know that he'd fully forgiven her for all the time he'd missed with the girls. Just because her motives had been honorable didn't un-fuck-up the past. I watched him covertly, but he ducked into the kitchen when his phone buzzed.
Maeve was in the armchair by the fire, holding a mug.
In the hush that followed, Mere twisted back from the window. "Can we help set the table?" she asked Livia, who stood at the dining room table sorting napkins. They'd opened the huge pocket doors between the living room and dining room for the holiday, and it was almost like one enormous room.
Livia looked genuinely surprised. "Of course you can, darling. I've got place cards if you want to decorate them."
Fifi whipped around. "Glitter pens? Please?"
Within five seconds, Mere and Fifi had set up camp on the rug, sketching dragons, stars, and probably a dozen secret messages on every card. Huey offered input by snoring, loudly, in his improvised den.
At six, Chance returned with a man I'd only seen once before, at the Christmas parade, the police officer I'd collided with. "Tash, this is my cousin Xavier."
Now, under this roof, everything hit different. Xavier was taller than even Chance and wore his sheriff's uniform proudly. He shook snow off his jacket, eyed the twins with a half-smile, and nodded at me, polite but cautious.
Chance cut the tension with a clap on Xavier's back. "This is the wild bunch I've been telling you about. Tash, Fifi, Mere; meet Xavier Meyer. He keeps this town running, or so he says."
Xavier's handshake was firm, but not crushing. "Been hearing lots about you. Glad you're here."
He eyed the twins with a warmth I'd recognize anywhere. Genuine, not practiced or forced. "You two keeping out of trouble?"
Mere grinned. "Always." Somehow the word sounded more like "Never."
Fifi managed a polite "Nice to meet you, sir," before ducking behind her place cards, but Xavier just winked, like he appreciated the effort.
Introductions done, the crowd drifted back toward the living room. Livia had switched to pouring drinks, and the twins sorted the seats with the air of professional event planners.
Chance brushed my shoulder as he moved past, and I caught the pulse of nerves under his calm. It made me want to sit him down and demand the truth about what made him flinch, but this was his family's holiday, not an interrogation.
Still, I wasn't letting it go.
Later, when the crowd was distracted by Maeve's story about a haunted pie recipe, I slid closer. "So, Xavier. He's your cousin? On your mother or father's side?"
Chance's jaw tightened, but he didn't look away. "Father's. Xavier's parents and my father were killed when hunters came for us. He was a kid, I was three…" He trailed off, watching the fire. "It was bad, Tash. Real bad."
I felt terrible about bringing up the memory, then I processed what he'd said, and my own guard shot up so fast I almost got dizzy.
He'd told me they had to hide from hunters, but his father being killed by hunters.
That made it very, very real. "Does that kind of thing still…
does it happen? Here? What about the girls, or me, or even Gerty and Beth and their kids? Are we safe?"
Chance didn't hesitate. He caught my hand and squeezed.
"They don't go after humans, not ever. Hunters actually think they're the good guys, protecting people.
Beth, Gerty, and Beth's kids are safe." He ducked his head, voice even lower.
"For the twins, Maeve and Mom, there's a backup place in the mountains if this house ever gets targeted.
We don't mess around with safety. The girls would be there before they know what's up, and Maeve and Mom would sit with them until everything is clear. "
The news settled with a shiver rolling through my gut. For all his joking, the seriousness in Chance's eyes left no doubt. He'd mapped every escape route twice.
From her spot at the table, Livia didn't bother hiding her glance at our linked hands. A tiny, speculative smile flitted over her mouth as she poured out more tea.
The meal itself was quick and loud. Every awkward pause was filled by Maeve, every lull in the conversation seized by Livia, who had at least three stories for every guest at the table.
Xavier told a few sheriff tales. No names, but enough drama to keep the twins on the edge of their seats.
Fifi sprayed her drink out of her nose when he described the time he'd rescued a rooster off the courthouse roof.
Even Livia cracked up, though she tried hard to hide it.
But the real magic started after dinner, when Livia shepherded us all to the living room and set a velvet-lined tray under the tree. Even Lola seemed impressed. At the very least, she hopped off the couch and let people sit on it.
"Gift exchange time," Livia announced. "For our newcomers, we have one rule. Nothing extravagant, and everything must be meaningful." Chance had warned us ahead of time, so this wasn't a shocker.
Chance murmured, "She says that every year," but nobody challenged the matriarch. At least, not until Mere and Fifi's presents came out.
The girls broke into twin gasps. It was a literal fortress of gold and red, boxes stacked in twos and threes, some bigger than my head, others so tiny they looked like jewelry cases for fairies.
"That's not not extravagant," Fifi whispered.
Livia caught the look and actually blushed, just a little. "Sixteen years, girls. That's a lot of Christmases to catch up on."
Her words were soft, the corners of her mouth quivering with emotion. Pride, regret, longing. For all her polish, Livia was showing every crack in her perfection.
The girls didn't waste time. Mere opened hers like a surgeon, careful to preserve every bit of ribbon, while Fifi went for speed, tearing paper like a tornado.
Each gift was small but packed with thought.
A set of dragon-shaped charms, two journals with personalized names etched in the front, a scarf so soft it seemed woven from actual clouds.
Mere tried on the scarf, beaming at her reflection in the darkened window, while Fifi immediately stashed the dragon charms in her hoodie pocket.
After a while, Livia dug through the pile for two special boxes, both wrapped in tissue and ribbon instead of the gold foil.
"These are family pieces," she said quietly. "Heirlooms. For you girls."
Fifi's box opened to a beautiful necklace.
An oval pendant that flickered red, gold, and orange all at once, like fire poured into crystal.
It was mesmerizing. Livia hooked it around Fifi's neck, then explained, "Dragonstone.
From your great-great-grandmother. It's meant to keep you grounded when you're struggling.
Wear it as often as you like, dear. Jewelry like this isn't meant to be tucked away in a box. "
Fifi turned the pendant in her hands, eyes gone a little glassy. "It's beautiful. Thank you, Grandma."
Livia fussed with her napkin, dabbing her eye. "My pleasure, my darling."
Next, Mere's. Her gift was a delicate silver bracelet, etched with narrow bands of runes that shimmered despite the low light. Mere put it on, then instantly jerked back in surprise. "It's warm!"