Chapter 36
Chapter thirty-six
Seraphina
Girl on Fire – Alicia Keys
The apartment smells like warm sugar and popcorn, mixed with faint cinnamon drifting from the candle Mac lit earlier.
Fairy lights twinkle along the shelves, reflecting off the glass of our wine.
I sink into the sofa, knees tucked beneath me, blanket draped around my shoulders, and Mac crouches at my feet painting my nails a deep, glossy red.
I can feel her brush moving slowly, carefully over each nail.
“You always paint like this?” I ask softly, letting her work.
“Every time,” she says with a grin, tilting her head to catch the light. “Precision matters. Your claws are official now, Sera.” She giggles at her own words, and I feel warmth bloom in my chest.
I pour us each a glass of wine, the clink of the glass like punctuation in the quiet room.
Popcorn sits between us—sweet and salty, just the way Mac like’s it—and we curl closer under the blanket as the first Christmas rom-com flickers to life.
I’m mesmerized by the lights, the laughter on the screen, and the smell of cinnamon and sugar in the air.
It’s overwhelming in the best possible way—my first proper Christmas.
Mac glances at me, brushing a loose strand of my hair behind her ear.
“Sera…tell me. How are you really doing?”
I swallow, fingers curling around the blanket.
“It’s…different. Everything is different. I’ve never…celebrated Christmas. My father didn’t…well, we didn’t. This—” I gesture around the cozy chaos of the room, the lights, the wine. “It feels…like I’m allowed to just…exist and be part of something. It’s magical...sometimes overwhelming.”
Mac smiles, soft and patient.
“You deserve this, Sera. And Trey…how’s it with him? You seem different lately.”
I pause, curling my fingers around the blanket, feeling the warmth of wine and the cozy glow of the room.
“It’s…intense,” I admit softly. “Trey. He’s passionate.
Like, in every possible way. Not just physical—but everything he does, it’s all-consuming.
He’s brought out a side of me I never knew existed.
” I glance down at my painted nails, biting my lip.
“I…he’s awakened things in me I didn’t know I could feel.
He makes me braver, stronger. And he’s…he’s all mine when he’s here.
Every inch of him, every part of me…we fit in ways I never imagined. ”
Mac sets the brush down, studying me, a knowing smile curving her lips. “I see it. You’re glowing.”
I nod, fingers tugging at the blanket.
“Yeah…he’s not just changed how I feel. He’s changed how I see myself.
I…did things with him I’ve never done with anyone else.
Never thought of or wanted to. I’ve…experienced things…
real passion, real touch. It scares me how much I feel for him, how I want to be more.
” My cheeks warm at saying it aloud, but there’s pride in it too—pride in the fact I let myself exist fully with him.
Mac reaches over, squeezing my hand gently.
“It’s like surrendering yourself to another.”
I smile, letting the warmth settle in my chest. “I don’t want to lose that. Or…Trey. It’s terrifying, but…amazing.”
Mac laughs softly, nudging me with her shoulder.
“Exactly. That’s the part you hold onto. Christmas, wine, movies, facemasks—it’s all the fluff. This? This is the core of what matters. The living, breathing, beautiful part of you Trey uncovered.”
I pop a kernel into my mouth and pause. Sweet, salty…soft, then crisp. My eyes widen.
“This…is amazing.”
Mac laughs, settling beside me in her flannel pajamas, brushing a stray curl behind her ear. “It’s a Christmas classic, Sera. You’re officially a holiday convert now.”
I pop another handful, letting the sweetness melt into the edge of my nerves, the cozy room, the glow of the film playing faintly in the background. I feel comfortable, something I didn’t know I could be.
“I feel…different,” I admit quietly, eyes still on the screen. “Being here, with you, doing normal stuff…like this. It’s…nice.”
Mac nudges me with her shoulder.
“I enjoy spending time with you too sister, sister.”
I shift slightly, leaning back into her warmth, letting the blanket slip just a little. I glance at her.
“Can I ask you something personal?”
“Always.”
“What does…love feel like for you and Logan?” I whisper, suddenly shy. I’ve been keeping so much inside.
Mac smiles softly, her eyes glinting with memory.
“For me? It’s him. I guess? I have loved him since we were kids.
We grew up together, on the same street, same friends, same summers.
I always…cared for him. Loved him, even.
But I didn’t understand it fully at first. It wasn’t until we were older—after Braden died—that I realized how deep it ran.
How much I needed him. How much I wanted him to be my person.
I thought…he might never feel the same. I didn’t dare hope.
There had been this...imposed distance. We didn’t want to hurt one another, but we didn’t, couldn’t, take things further.
Then I was drowning in grief, suffocating.
I ended up in your neck of the woods, Portland. Tried to find myself…”
I tilt my head, taking a sip of wine, letting her words wash over me.
“And then?”
She laughs softly, a little choked, but warm.
“Then…he walks in when I am busying myself with work, we reconnected. This thing that had always been beneath the surface bloomed, I guess. He told me, quietly, when I least expected it. I remember sitting on the porch, night sky above us, and he…finally let me know. Everything I felt, he felt too. That’s when I knew we felt the same way about one another.
Then, I got in an accident, and I got to be wooed by him all over again.
He held me together when I felt like I was falling apart.
He was patient. Kind. Nurturing. Understanding…
because I can be a bit of a psycho at times. ”
I nibble on another piece of popcorn, thinking about Trey. That intensity, the peace he brings, the way he makes me feel alive in every nerve ending, every heartbeat. My stomach twists with longing and warmth.
“I think that’s what I feel with Trey,” I confess softly, almost to myself. “It’s not the same as your love with Logan, I think…but…he brings out things in me I didn’t know were there. Passion I never knew I had, and…he sees me. All of me, and he accepts me for it.”
Mac smiles knowingly, leaning back.
“That certainly sounds like love, Sera. That’s the kind that makes you want to be better, the kind that scares the hell out of you and makes your heart soar at the same time.”
I rest my head on her shoulder, feeling the gentle warmth, letting the film play, the popcorn taste sweet and comforting in my mouth, the wine a soft warmth in my belly.
“I’m scared,” I admit, voice barely above the background music. “Scared to…give him all of me. That last piece.”
Mac squeezes my hand.
“You don’t have to give him every part. A woman must have her secrets, or so they say.
I think Logan pretends not to know mine…
God, I love him. Besides, if you really are freaked out, don’t be.
You’ll know when you’re ready. Trey…he’s not going anywhere.
He’s already giving you all of him, and that’s your invitation. The rest…is your choice.”
I nod, fingers tracing the rim of my glass.
The popcorn bowl is empty, the movie humming in the background, and for a moment, I forget everything else. The fear, the shadows, the intruders, the past. It’s just warmth, laughter, wine, and the promise of love. Real, all-consuming love—spilling into my life.
From the corner of my eye, I see Mac’s grin as she sets down the nail polish. “We’ve got the boys coming home soon. I hope you’re ready for that madness too.”
I laugh softly, brushing my hair from my face.
“I think I’m ready. For them, for him…for this.”
The movie ended a while ago, but neither of us moved to turn off the TV. The credits hum quietly in the background as I swirl the last of my wine in the glass. My face feels tight beneath the cooling mask, and every time I smile, it cracks at the corners.
Mac’s phone buzzes on the coffee table. She glances at it and grins.
“They’re on their way back.”
“Oh, no,” I laugh, touching the ridiculous green goo on my face.
“You could’ve warned me sooner!”
She bursts out laughing, nearly spilling her wine.
“What? You look adorable! Trey’s going to love it.”
“Because I’m slimy,” I counter, wiping a bit off my chin.
“Details,” she says, dismissing me with a flick of her hand as she digs into a bag of M&M’s.
There’s a sudden thump against the front door—voices, laughter, and the sound of keys jingling. Mac and I freeze, exchanging a wide-eyed look.
“Oh my God,” I whisper. “They’re here!”
Mac grins wickedly. “Perfect timing.”
The door opens, and in spills laughter, boots on marble, and the low hum of male voices echoing through the entryway. Sam’s deep chuckle, Chace’s playful tone, and Logan’s easy laugh fill the space before Trey’s quieter voice cuts through, smooth and familiar.
“Smells like popcorn and girl shit,” Chace calls out as he steps into the living room.
I sink lower into the sofa, clutching my blanket around me, but Mac waves a hand toward him. “You’re just jealous you didn’t get a face mask, pretty boy.”
Chace pauses in the doorway, eyebrows shooting up at the sight of us—two women in flannel pajamas, messy buns, wine glasses in hand, and bright green facemasks gleaming under the soft light. His grin spreads slow and devilish.
“Well, damn. Look at you two. Is it Halloween or Christmas?”
Sam steps in behind him, snorting.
“You two look like you spilled smoothies all over your faces.”
“Welcome back, the two grumpy old men from the Muppets.” Mac grits her teeth.
Logan shoves them playfully, laughing.
“Ignore them,” he says to Mac, crossing to her and kissing her temple despite the mask.
“You look gorgeous, as always.”
My laughter gets caught halfway up my throat when Trey walks in. He’s last, of course—eyes scanning the room before landing squarely on me. His mouth tilts, that lazy smirk tugging at the corner. I feel like the air has been stolen from my lungs. He’s so devastatingly handsome.
“Baby…” he drawls, voice thick with amusement. “You’ve, uh you’ve got a little something on your face.”
My cheeks heat instantly, which is impressive, considering the minty chill of the mask.
“It’s for my pores!”
He crosses the room slowly, like a predator stalking its prey, stopping just in front of the couch.
His green eyes glint under the low light, and I can feel every inch of that gaze skating down my messy bun, oversized pajama shirt, that I took from his side of the closet, and bare legs tucked beneath me.
“Looks like someone attacked you with guacamole,” he murmurs.
I smack his thigh with a throw pillow. Head a little tipsy from the wine.
“Shut up.”
He chuckles, catching the pillow easily, and tosses it back onto the couch.
“You look cute,” he admits, softer this time, leaning down until our noses almost touch. “Like you’ve been playing spa day Barbie.”
I arch a brow. “If you keep talking, I’m going to put some on you too.”
Mac whistles from behind her wine glass.
“Do it, Sera. He’d look stunning in cucumber green.”
Trey laughs, shaking his head, his hand sliding down to squeeze my knee gently.
“Don’t even think about it, baby.”
His fingers linger there, tracing lazy circles against my skin, and suddenly I forget about the mask, the mess, everything but the weight of his gaze and the faint scent of cologne and winter air clinging to him.
Mac clears her throat.
“Okay, Logan, kitchen—help me get food before these two start undressing each other with their eyes.”
“Already happening,” Chace mutters, earning himself a smack from Sam.
I can’t help laughing as Trey straightens up and moves behind the couch, hands sliding over my shoulders. He dips his head, his breath warm against my ear.
“I missed you.”
“I can tell,” I tease, tilting my head up slightly.
“You have no idea,” he murmurs, brushing his lips against my temple, careful to avoid the mask.
“Careful, you’ll ruin your reputation,” I whisper back.
He chuckles low, the sound rumbling in my bones. “Too late for that.”
The rest of the house fills with chatter and laughter—Sam raiding the fridge, Chace flipping through the TV channels, Logan and Mac bickering affectionately in the kitchen.
Trey moves around the sofa and drops down beside me, stretching an arm along the back of the couch before pulling me in until my head rests on his shoulder. His other hand finds mine under the blanket, thumb brushing against my knuckles.
“Had a good night?” he asks quietly, eyes on the TV but attention entirely on me.
“Yeah,” I say softly, smiling up at him. “It was perfect.”
He hums, the sound deep and content.
“You smell like popcorn and peppermint.”
“You smell like trouble,” I shoot back.
He grins. “Always.”
For a moment, everything feels suspended—the laughter from the kitchen, the glow of the fairy lights, his arm warm around me, the mask drying tight on my face as I lean into him and whisper,
“Welcome home.”