She didn’t remember drifting off to sleep. Abby was still holding her, making her feel safe—making her feel loved. The sound of the shower had awakened her, though, and she wondered if the others were already downstairs, waiting on them. She closed her eyes again, wishing they could linger in bed a little longer. She felt drained. Too tired to participate in a joyous Christmas, that was for sure. There was to be no respite, though. The bathroom door opened, and she sensed Abby watching her.

“Good morning,” she murmured without opening her eyes. She felt a light kiss on her lips.

“Good morning.” Abby sat down on the bed beside her. “Are you as tired as I am?”

“Uh huh.”

When a soft hand touched her cheek, she opened her eyes, meeting Abby’s gaze. The affection she saw there made her feel warm and happy and…and relaxed. It was Christmas, a time of year that held no cheerful memories, no enjoyment. Yet this year, right now, she felt content. She embraced what she saw in Abby’s eyes, and she smiled at her, soaking it all in. It was Christmas. And it would be different this year.

“Will it be too hard for you? I mean, with my family and gifts and—”

“No, Abby. It’ll be like the fairytale Christmas that I never had.”

“But you look sad, not happy.”

“Do I? I feel pretty happy right now, actually.” She smiled at her. “Thank you for last night. I…I—”

“You needed that,” Abby finished for her. She touched a finger to her lips. “You don’t let anyone get close to you. Is that why? You don’t want to have to share your story with them?”

“Partly, I guess. And there’s that trap I’m trying to avoid.”

“A trap?”

“Yes. My parents were caught in a trap and neither of them could get out. I don’t know if the drinking caused their relationship to deteriorate or if their relationship caused the drinking. Even when I was a little kid, I knew they didn’t really like each other. I don’t remember a time where there wasn’t fighting, yelling. They were caught in a trap. I don’t want that to ever be me.”

“You’d rather be alone?”

“Yes. Besides, I don’t have anything to offer anyone. I’m…I’m damaged.”

“Oh, honey, you’re not damaged. You were the victim. All of that was out of your hands.”

“I feel broken, Abby. That’s why it’s easier to be alone.”

Abby stared into her eyes for the longest moment, then nodded but said nothing else. They heard voices in the hallway. It was Holly and Aaron, going down to see what Santa had left, no doubt. She sighed.

“Guess I should shower.”

Abby didn’t move from the bed. “How old were you, Nic? When it happened.”

“Fifteen.”