The smell of turkey filled the air, blending with the scent of cinnamon and pine needles. Christmas was always special, but spending it with Gabe felt like something more. It was the first year we weren’t just friends—we were family. His laughter echoed through the living room as we hung up the last of the ornaments on the tree.

“I swear, if one more person makes me play Christmas carols, I’m gonna lose it,” Gabe muttered, taking a seat on the couch next to me. He grabbed a gingerbread cookie, biting into it without a second thought.

I couldn’t help but laugh. “You’re such a Grinch sometimes.”

Gabe shot me a playful smirk. “I’m not a Grinch. I’m just... realistic. Holidays are overrated.”

I nudged him with my elbow. “Says the guy who spent hours trying to make the perfect Thanksgiving mashed potatoes.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Hey, they were perfect.”