I'm the first one up come Christmas morning, having been shocked awake when I'd tumbled over the edge of the twin bed, hitting the floor with a muffled thud. Bas hadn't woken, simply shifted onto his side and made some smartass comment in a drowsy slur.

So, because I was suddenly wide awake, I unpacked the Christmas gifts from my bag. One for Bas and one for all of the Killfeathers; because I couldn't not get my gracious hosts something.

Padding softly through the silent house, I'd placed the presents under the tree and taken to the kitchen with the intent to make coffee.

I'm fumbling through the cupboards for a while when Claude enters. "Morning."

I nearly jump through the ceiling, emitting a mouse-like squeak and whirling around to face the newcomer.

Claude gives an apologetic smile. "I'm usually the first one up, you beat me to the punch." She says and places an empty water glass by the sink. She's wearing a gray t-shirt, sweatpants, fuzzy slippers, and a plush shawl around her shoulders. The simple colors draw out the lavender tones in her hair.

I lean back into the counter, heartbeat returning to a normal. "Bastien pushed me off the bed. I'm not usually a morning person." I respond and absent-mindedly rub my elbow, which had hit the floor first and taken the brunt of my tumble.

Claude giggles, reaching past me and setting a metal tin on the counter. "I imagine you were looking for this."

I pop the lid on the tin, expelling a low moan as the intoxicating aroma of coffee floats up. "Thank you."

She starts pulling down mugs. "We have a Keurig with reusable K-cups or," she gestures at a huge box of a machine, "that thing." Claude's face scrunches up as she stares at it. "But I can't work it so if you want to use it, you're on your own."

I eye it dubiously. It looks like a relic from World War II. "Yeah, I'll pass."

"Solid choice." She starts to set up the Keurig. "There's cocoa cups in that drawer, could you grab some?" She asks me while gesturing, I nod and follow her instructions.

"So," Claude begins after a few minutes of companionable silence. I look up from my hands, clasping them before me so as not to keep obsessing over the cracked, dry skin that the cold air inflicts. She presses a button on the machine and closes the lid with a pod inside, the Keurig whirs, and Claude leans her back into the counter, facing me.

"So." I answer.

Claude folds her arms over her chest. "I just wanted to say that I never meant to unsettle you yesterday." She begins, eyes gentle on my face. I sit up a little straighter, suddenly unsure how to react. "Doing what I do, I've learned to recognize things, signs, I mean. I don't mean to pry. That's not my intent."

I shift, draw my sweater closer around my body, wishing suddenly that I knew a way to escape without being obvious. "I don't want—"

"Let me finish." Claude implores. "I'm not asking you to talk about it. I'm just saying," she slides a piping hot mug in my direction. "I'm a good listener, and a self-proclaimed expert on everything Bastien," she winks. "So, if you do want to talk, about my brother, you, or anything, I'm here." She smiles and pops another pod in the machine.

Gingerly, I reach toward the mug and curl my hands around the warm ceramic. Claude doesn't say anything more, just busies herself with mundane tasks while I ruminate over her words.

Not long ago, any mention of Asher—direct or indirect—would've sent me into survival mode. My skin would itch, and I'd ache to release that energy with the edge of a blade. My stomach would roil, anxious and angry.

Part of me still feels that way, part of me probably always will. But there's another side too, one that isn't scared so much as determined to break the chains holding me down. It started as a flicker when Bastien stepped into my dad's café. He kindled it into a flame the more we saw one another. Now it's like a bonfire threatening to consume me.

"Okay." I allow.

Claude stills, setting the waffle maker on the counter and turning to me curiously. "Oui?"

I chew my lip and meet her eyes. "I guess I have questions, and maybe some issues too."

Claude grins, eyes twinkling, "Oh honey, we all have issues." She's teasing, but under the surface I know she understands how exposed this makes me. "We'll hang out sometime this week. Girl time. For now, let's cook."

I nod, stomach knotting anxiously.

Claude directs me on how to mix batter, then has me on waffle duty. The strong, intoxicating scent of coffee and vanilla wafts through the air, swirling through the house, and sending a wave of familiarity through me.

Somewhere above us, a child starts to cry, and footsteps echo on the hardwood flooring. Then doors open, voices engage, and the house begins to wake.

"Mm, smells good in here!" Jack declares.

One of the twins – Oscar, I think – shambles after him. "Hungry."

"Almost ready, bud," Claude reassures him.

"Morning," Papa greets.

I had him a cup of coffee. "Morning!"

He grins and I see an older version of Bas in his smile. "Thank you. You didn't have to do all this."

"I don't mind." I shrug shyly. "Least I could do since you're letting me stay for the holidays."

"You're welcome here any time, fille." He assures me with a gentle pat on the shoulder.

"I've got this if you want to get Bas." Claude informs me as she closes the top on the waffle maker, batter coating her fingers. "He's always the last one up."

"Of course he is," we share an amused look as I slip through the kitchen entry. I pass the rest of the rising Killfeathers, all of whom greet me with loud smiles.

I pad lightly back into the room. Bas is in the same position he was when I left. All four limbs sprawled across the twin mattress with one arm dangling and a foot sticking out from under the covers. Hard to imagine that he was once small enough to fit all of him in there.

I bend down beside him, leveling my face with his. His eyelashes brush against his cheeks, dark and thick. Morning scruff covers his jaw, adds a ruggedness to his handsome face. Combing one hand through his hair, I take in a breath and blow against his skin. Bas twitches his nose and shifts his face further into the pillow.

I can't help but giggle at his reaction and I could almost swear his lips quirk up. There's a heavy exhale, then silence as I draw circles against his scalp with my nails.

The soft brown strands slip through my fingers. I bury my hand in deeper, giving a slight tug. Bas inhales, the action draws my gaze to his lips, then up to meet vibrant hazel eyes.

My hand stills as I'm suddenly mesmerized by the heat in his gaze, the affection shining there. I don't realize I've stopped breathing until my head starts to swim slightly, and I give a little gasp. Bas chuckles and shifts onto his back, somehow managing to capture me around the hips and draw me on top of him, bodies flush.

I yelp in surprise, but the sound is quickly smothered as Bas presses his lips to mine. His hand cups the back of my head, pulling us closer. I tug on his shoulders, kneading the bare skin with my fingertips in a desperate attempt to get closer. Bas groans with delight.

"I could get used to this." He states between kisses, lips trailing path of liquid fire down my neck.

"Mhm, me too," I mumble in agreement. Bas laughs lightly and rotates his body so that mine is caught between him and the wall. Then we're going at it like horny teenagers. I can't get enough of this man.

"BASTIEN!" His mother's voice is a rude awakening in our mussed-up state. We jerk apart, both our faces crimson. "VITE, IL EST TEMPS POUR LES CADEAUX!"

"Dieu, maman! Venaient!" Bas yells back, dragging his fingers through tousled brown hair. He flops back down on the bed beside me, his hand resting itself on my hip in a natural gesture.

"She said it's time for presents." He mumbles in a worn tone. I can't help but start laughing, loud and uncontrolled to the point that I shove my face in a pillow to try and muffle the noise. Bas's incredulous expression tells me he doesn't share in my merriment.

"Oh God, your face!" I cry.

"Not" He hisses, face close to mine, eyes still fevered.

My laughter builds into an ungraceful snort. "That was so funny!"

Bas pinches his lips, shakes his head, and hooks his arm across my torso, pulling us close. I giggle, shoving against his attempts to bring us together. Unfortunately for me, he's stronger and his will wins out. Bas leans over me, supporting his weight on his elbow and the fist at my waist.

"You do realize we were just cockblocked by my mother, right?"

"Really?" I smirk and slide my hand down his bare chest, delighting in the way his eyes heat. My hand plays with the waistband on his boxers as I hook one leg around his lower back, forcing his body down so that my thigh presses against his hardness.

Bas groans, forehead hitting my shoulder as he tries to smother a curse against my skin. "You don't play fair, Reagan." His mouth captures mine, smothering my giggles.

I give a soft sound of delight before sinking into his touch. His hand trails the waistband on my pajama shorts. I press up into him on a gasp, Bas reacts by dragging his teeth against my lower lip.

Then, to my dismay, he tears his mouth from mine, holding my desperate body in place with his palm. Panting, he stares down at me, fire raging in his eyes, color high in his cheeks. "We'll continue this later." He growls, voice rough and body taut.

I sulk. "But—"

"If we don't go out there, she'll come in here." Bas warns, I clamp my mouth shut. If there was one thing we didn't need, it was his mother barging in on us during sex.

So, Bas abandons me and the bed for sweatpants and a t-shirt while I search my bag for warmer bottoms. Silk shorts were great for sleeping in but not so much for present exchanging with my boyfriend's entire family.

Claude's still dishing out waffles, coffee, and cocoa when Bas and I stumble into the kitchen. He's got his arm around my shoulders, mine is across his back, claiming each other. More than a few of his siblings exchange glances when we enter. His brother, Leo, smirks at him and Bas rolls his eyes. Claude meets my gaze with a grin and a knowing glint as she hands me a full mug.

"Brewed you another," she says, sparing her brother a less friendly glance. "And you," she jabs a finger at him. "I made breakfast last year, it was supposed to be your turn."

"Well, you did great Sis." he drags a mug of coffee and stack of waffles toward him, handing the plate and two forks to me.

Claude flips him the bird.

Behind us, Noelle chastises her sister for using that gesture in front of the kids and Leo makes a comment that Jack's already taught them every naughty word in existence. Bas's mother exclaims in French, hand over her heart and his father shakes his head. The siblings banter, Bas piping in between mouthfuls of waffle. I nibble slowly on one, more intrigued by the family surrounding me than the food.

My Christmas mornings were never this eventful. Mom was hardly ever home, and if she was, she slept in and ignored me when I tried to give her the presents I'd gotten her. Dad would get up early to make French toast drizzled with strawberry juice. Then he'd sit with me around the tiny tree, wrapping paper all around us as we played with my new toys.

There was love and affection with my dad but Bas's family has more than that. They're like a ray of sunshine I'd never realized I was missing until it blinded me.

Bas bops me on the nose with his fork, waving a hand past my face to get my attention. It shakes me from my daydream as syrup, wet and sticky, drips from my nose.

"Hey!" I exclaim, searching avidly for a napkin. Finding none, I settle for the sleeve of Bas's t-shirt.

"Hey yourself!" He returns, pulling away from me with a laugh. I stick my tongue out at him and he snaps his teeth at me playfully.

"Children!" Claude announces as she hooks her elbow through mine and starts to drag me away. "The tree and it's many surprises is this way!" She sing-songs, pulling me with her into the living room. I submit with a chuckle, sparing Bas a helpless glance over my shoulder.

"That's my girlfriend you have there!" Bas calls after us.

"Am I stealing you from anyone important?" She asks innocently, eyelashes fluttering. I can't help but smile and shake my head. Claude beams at Bas's outraged expression.

Claude and I settle on the couch. She tucks her toes up under her and leans against the armrest while I pile pillows on my lap and crisscross my legs. The rest of the family begins to trickle in, Oscar and Gabriel race in, shrieking in delight at the sight of such colorful wrapping paper. Noelle and Jack follow, then Mia and Leo, Sacha with his arms folded, and lastly Bas with his mother on one side and his dad on the other. His eyes immediately find me and he makes a beeline for the empty spot beside me.

Claude smiles as he pull me into his lap, arms around my waist and chin on my shoulder. He gives her a satisfied look.

"Bas, you can't pass out the presents with Reecie on your lap." Mia teases, lounging back against the loveseat with Leo tucked in beside her.

"Aw, come on," Bas grumbles into my hair. I glance confusedly from one sibling to another, finally settling on Sacha.

He gestures at the tree. "The youngest always passes out the presents making Baby Bas eternally fucked."

Noelle covers her child's ears. "Stop it!" She hisses, Sacha shrugs but there's a small smirk on his lips.

Claude shoves her brother's shoulder. "Chop-chop. You already weaseled your way out of cooking duty."

Bas groans again, gently pushing me back onto the cushions. "I hate you all," he grumbles and gets down on his knees before the tree.

So, in his typical way, Bastien plucks up present after present and deposits them before their receiver, either by a precisely aimed toss or via dramatic flourishes. Each time he finds a gift with my name on it, he meets my eyes with a secretive glint and a cheeky smirk. Every time he sets a present before me, I wish I could disappear into the couch cushions.

I'd expected maybe one, or two, if they went all out. Not a growing pile of wrapping paper and gift bags capable of rivaling the Killfeather family members. At one point, Claude reaches over and grips my hand where it lays slack in my lap.

"Bastien mentioned your Christmas's were very different from ours. We wanted to make this one special."

I blink at her, dumbstruck. "This is too much." I protest on barely a breath.

"It's not enough," Claude squeezes my hand reassuringly, casts her brother a knowing glance. "You mean the world to him, so you mean everything to us. We want you to stick around for a good long while."

Bas calls out a name and looks up, his eyes find mine briefly, and a shot of warmth spreads through my chest. He scoots across the floor to place a present before his mother. She cups his face in her hands, exclaims something in French, and the family giggles.

I return my gaze to Claude, finding it hard to deny her request despite how desperately every part of me wishes to flee, disappear into the background, sink into the floor. "This is blackmail."

Claude snorts. "This is family."