Christmas Eve always felt fuller when Drew was there.

This year, it almost hadn’t happened.

He showed up later than usual, quieter too. His smile was still there, but you could tell it took effort. When your mom hugged him, he closed his eyes for a second longer than normal, like he was letting the warmth sink in. You understood that feeling more than most.

The last months had been rough for him—anxiety creeping in, days where even simple things felt loud and heavy. He’d stepped back from the public eye, from people, from almost everything. Not because he didn’t care, but because surviving sometimes meant pulling away.

You hadn’t seen him much because of that.

And because you were struggling too.

Your eyes met across the living room. No awkwardness. No guilt. Just a quiet I know passing between you.

“Uncle Drew!”

Sophie came sprinting toward him, nearly tripping over her excitement.

Drew crouched instantly, catching her. “Whoa—easy there. Hey, superstar,” he said, spinning her just enough to make her giggle. “Did you get taller or am I shrinking?”

“I’m taller,” she declared proudly. “Daddy says I grow every day.”

Jace laughed from the kitchen. “Careful, man. She’s already running the house.”

Sophie showed Drew every single ornament on the tree, one by one, even the ones he’d seen a hundred times before. Every time she did something dramatic, tripping over her own excitement, whispering secrets far too loudly. Drew would laugh, then instinctively glance across the room.

And every time, his eyes found you.

Later, when everyone settled down with hot chocolate, Drew ended up next to you on the couch while Sophie sat cross-legged on the floor.

“You good?” you asked quietly.

He hesitated, then nodded. “Better than I was. Being here helps.”

You understood. You always had.

When it was gift time, Drew shifted in his seat. “Uh, hey. This one’s for you.”

He handed you a small box, wrapped neatly but plainly.

“I didn’t know what to get you,” he admitted. “But I wanted it to be… something grounding.”

Inside was a beautiful bracelet in a neutral color, heavy enough to feel comforting. Tucked into the folds was a small card with a short note written in his handwriting:

„For the days that feel too loud.“

Your throat tightened.

“It’s perfect,” you said, looking up at him. “Thank you.”

He let out a quiet breath, like he’d been holding it in. “I was hoping you’d get it.”

Later, while Sophie was distracted with her new toys, you and Drew ended up in the kitchen, away from the noise.

“You know,” he said, leaning against the counter, “I didn’t talk to many people these past months. But you… you never made me feel guilty for disappearing.”

You shrugged lightly. “I get it. Sometimes you don’t really vanish, you just need space.”

He looked at you then. Really looked.

“That’s exactly it.”

For a moment, the room felt very still. Not in a romantic way, just heavy with things unsaid. Understanding stacked on understanding. You both felt it.

Something could happen.

But it couldn’t.

He was your brother’s best friend. Family, in every sense. And more than that, you both knew you weren’t in a place to complicate something that already mattered so much.

Drew cleared his throat first. “I’m really glad you’re here,” he said quietly.

You smiled. “Me too.”

Later that night, Sophie fell asleep against his side, her head resting on his arm. Drew didn’t move, even when his arm clearly went numb.

You caught his eye from across the room.

He smiled softly. Tired. Real.

And in that moment, nothing else mattered,not the tension, not the what-ifs. Just being understood, and not being alone. For tonight, that was enough.