Rafe Cameron hated holidays.

It didn’t matter which one—Christmas, Thanksgiving, Easter—he loathed them all. He hated the forced cheer, the over-the-top decorations, and, most of all, the family gatherings. If he had it his way, he’d lock himself in his room and pretend the entire world didn’t exist for a few days. His family, with their fake smiles and passive-aggressive jabs, only made it worse.

But this year was different. This year, there was you.

You, his girlfriend, who lived for the holidays. Christmas was your thing—the lights, the music, the food, the presents, the endless laughter. You loved it all, and though he’d never admit it, Rafe knew how much it meant to you. So, despite everything in him screaming to stay away, he promised himself he’d make this Christmas different. He’d go through the motions. He’d even show up at that Christmas dinner, sit through the awkward conversations, fake a smile—just to see the way your eyes lit up when you were surrounded by the people you loved.

Maybe—most definitely—he’d end up regretting it. But in that moment, he didn’t care. He wanted you happy.

He sat beside you in his lounge room, where groups of his family and friends were gathered. Topper sat on the other side of him, blabbering nonsense with his girlfriend—at least he was happy, though.

Rafe’s arm rested over the back of the couch, just above where you were sitting, almost like a hug, even though Rafe hated things like hugs and kisses. He always tried to be affectionate with you.

“Baby, angel, leave my step-mom alone now. Let her go speak to her friends,” Rafe instructed gently, though his voice was slightly firm—and you obeyed, silencing yourself and letting her leave.

“There we go,” he hummed in a quiet rumble, his hand coming up to stroke your hair.