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“IS BRUTUS THERE—”
“UNCLE TOMMY!” Ethan hollered. “WE’RE GOING TO BEAR’S—”
Annie spun around just in time to see Tommy snap his sketchbook shut, already grinning as he shoved his feet into his sneakers without bothering with the backs. The apartment filled with the bright thunder of little feet and pure Christmas-morning joy.
She turned back to Isabelle, who was watching her closely, eyes soft but determined.
“Isabelle, you don’t have to—”
“Yeah yeah, you’re okay, I’m okay, we’re all okay. Whatever, girlfriend.” Isabelle waved a hand, already moving past her like a warm whirlwind. “We’ve been naked together. Tough cookies. Oh! Speaking of cookies — Mary Sue is meeting us there and she baked her famous ones!”
Annie tried to keep up as Isabelle swept in to help gather everyone, coats and hats appearing in her arms as if by magic.
Then Annie looked past her into the hallway still stunned and trying to process what was happening.
Michael stood there in a oversized, puffy red snow jacket, looking a little sheepish under a ridiculous Chewbacca beanie — the furry brown Wookiee face perched on his head like it had been kidnapped from a toy store. He met her eyes and gave a shy little smile.
“Hi, Annie. I… um, Isabelle kinda insisted. And when she decides something—” He paused, looking at Isabelle who was helping the kids, and whispered, “Well, it’s kinda better to just let her do whatever she wants.”
“I heard that, Michael Barrington!” Isabelle called out happily while crouching to help Lily with her boots. “Annie is our friend and we’re not having Christmas without her. Besides, Sage said if Annie didn’t come she’d come here and beg on her knees.”
Annie stared at them, feeling her eyes get wet. A hot, tight pressure bloomed in her chest and climbed into her throat.
They… me? A friend?
The thought landed like a gift she hadn’t dared ask for. Not a charity case. Not the struggling single mom they felt sorry for. Just… their friend. The kind of friend you drag into the family on Christmas morning because the day wouldn’t feel right without her. It was almost too much. Her vision blurred and she had to blink hard, swallowing against the sudden lump in her throat.
“I’ll… help get their coats,” she said softly, her voice rough around the edges as she turned away before the tears could spill over.
Annie cried in the Escalade.
Quietly. Turned slightly toward the window so the kids wouldn’t see. The leather seat was warm beneath her, almost too soft after years of stiff secondhand couches, and the low hum of the engine wrapped around her like a comforting blanket.
Ethan was peppering Isabelle with questions about how big Brutus really was, his voice bright with awe. Tommy had his nose pressed to the glass, fogging it with each excited breath as he watched the snow swirl past. Lily sat tucked against Annie’s side, still clutching her new doll like a treasure, her small body warm and trusting. Up front, Michael rode beside a tough-looking woman in dark glasses with a wire in her ear — a bodyguard, Annie realized with a quiet jolt — who smiled softly at the kids in the rearview mirror.
Michael kept glancing at his phone, murmuring odd little facts into the warm cabin. “Oh… yeah, Lego has a Christmas sale!”
Isabelle laughed, bright and easy. “Michael, you don’t need to wait for a sale.”
He twisted around in his seat, Chewbacca beanie slightly askew, and gave them a shy, hopeful look. “Umm, yeah but… if it’s a sale then… it’s kinda special, right Annie?”
Annie managed a small smile and nodded, then turned back to the window before the tears could betray her.
Outside, the Montana morning slid past in soft whites and golds — endless fields blanketed in snow, fence posts wearing little caps of white, the mountains catching the early light along their peaks like they’d been brushed with something holy. She pressed her knuckle to her mouth and let herself feel it. All of it.
Why are they so kind to me?
The thought kept circling, almost dizzying. Like I mean something to them. Me. Dumb Annie Townsend.
She thought of the eggs she’d left half-cracked on the counter. The three carefully chosen gifts under their small, imperfect tree. All the Christmases before this one… the cold, hungry, afraid kind. The ones where the only sounds in the apartment were yelling or silence. And then Isabelle was at her door this morning. Like it was the most natural thing in the world. Like Annie and her messy little family belonged somewhere that came with a black Escalade and a driver who looked like she could handle anything. Like Isabelle genuinely liked her.
Her throat tightened again. She wiped her face quickly with the back of her hand.
Lily reached up without looking, her small palm patting Annie’s cheek with gentle, instinctive comfort — the way she always did when she sensed something was off but didn’t have the words for it.
Annie caught her daughter’s hand and held it tight, pressing a kiss to the tiny knuckles. The simple warmth of it steadied her.
Okay, she thought, letting the quiet tears fall a little longer. Okay.
