Unhinged Holiday: A Very Vandals Christmas

Deck the halls. Lock the doors. Feral, but festive.

Lainey

All I wanted was a normal Christmas.

A house. Snow. Everyone together. No emergencies. No drama. No one emotionally imploding before breakfast.

In hindsight, inviting this many people—including my best friend, her seven Vandals, my four partners, and several teenagers—was ambitious at best. Delusional at worst.

Still, how bad could it be?

Emersyn

Turns out, very.

Bodhi surprised everyone with a massive chalet in the mountains—fireplaces, ski slopes, and enough space to pretend we’re functional adults. Then the snowstorm hits. Roads close. Cell service disappears. And suddenly, some of the most dangerous people I know are outmatched by ski boots, board games, and sixteen-year-olds with opinions.

We wanted peace.

 We got cabin fever, feral family bonding, and chaos wrapped in tinsel.

All we wanted was to be normal for Christmas.

What could possibly go wrong?

Chapter One

Lainey

The road narrowed the higher we climbed, a ribbon of blacktop carved into white silence. Pines crowded in close, heavy with snow, their branches sagging like they were listening in. I leaned my head against my pretty boy’s shoulder as I tried to convince myself that this was normal. We all needed it, after everything, we all needed normal.

Christmas lights decorated the dashboard where Bodhi drove. Adam was sitting in the front passenger seat while I was comfortably ensconced between Milo and Ezra on the middle seat. Andrea and Levi had the back rear seat in the oversized SUV. They were currently arguing about playlists in a familiar undertone. Snow fell softly enough to feel intentional.

Then the lodge came into view.

I straightened. Blinked once. Then again.

The house—no, compound—rose out of the mountainside like a luxury bunker. All timber and stone and glass, multiple wings branching out as if it had grown there and decided to stay forever. Warm light spilled from enormous windows. A heated driveway steamed faintly beneath fresh snowfall. I was pretty sure I could see at least three chimneys. Possibly five.

I turned slowly to glance at Bodhi via the rearview mirror since he was in the driver’s seat and lifted my brows.

He met my gaze, eyes dancing despite his utterly unbothered shrugged. “It should be big enough that no one wants to kill each other,” he said easily.

“But with plenty of room for fist fights if we have them,” Ezra said with a wide grin.

“Absolutely not,” Milo said at the exact same time Adam did. The fact they had the exact same low growl in their voices almost made me laugh. The two got along so damn well now, even when they disagreed. At least they teamed up on Ezra more often than on me.

Ezra snorted even as he bumped my knee with his. “You can’t just ban fighting preemptively. That’s how it sneaks up on you.” He was absolutely stirring up shit. Sometimes, he just wanted to push Adam until Adam snapped. Worth it, he’d mutter. And I supposed, I understood that. When Adam wanted to take care of you, you had two choices, let him or drive him mad.

I’d spent years thwarting him for fun. Since it often took all of us to manage Ezra, I didn’t give him as much trouble now. So Ezra took that as permission to take it to a whole new level.

I glanced over my shoulder. Levi and Andrea were watching us like we were a live nature documentary titled Adults: A Cautionary Tale.

Andrea leaned forward, cheerful and unfazed. “We’re close to the slopes, right? I’ll just ski.”

Levi shrugged beside her. “I don’t know how.”

“We’ll take care of it,” Bodhi said immediately, like this was a solvable problem and not a metaphor. Where Levi and Andrea were concerned, it absolutely was. “As long as you want to learn.”

“Cool.” Levi was still a bit reserved with all of us, save for Andrea. With her, he relaxed, but I didn’t miss the way he watched over her—every bit as protective as the rest of us.

The car rolled to a stop in front of the main entrance. I took it all in as we climbed out—how the place somehow managed to look cozy and majestic at the same time. The front doors alone were taller than the huge rolling doors at the warehouse Em called home these days.

“Is there… staff?” I asked quietly, uncertain whether I wanted the answer to be yes or no.

“Nope,” Bodhi said, sliding an arm around me to tug me into him. He pressed a kiss behind my ear before murmuring, “I had it stocked. Reviewed the security. It’s just us. No outsiders. No one to make anyone feel uncomfortable.”

No one for him to have to watch for betrayal. I pressed my lips together. That felt like either the best decision he could have made—or the one we’d all regret by Christmas Eve.

“It’s better that way,” he added, then nuzzled another kiss. “Yes?”

“Yes,” I said, because we could look after ourselves. Ezra let out a yelp as Adam sent him flying into a snowbank. Well… I swallowed a laugh. Most of us. I pushed upward and kissed Bodhi’s jaw. “Thank you for doing this.”

His eyes gentled immediately. “You wanted time with PPG.”

I did. The fact that he still used PPG as her nickname amused me because it was just the lightest of jabs at Milo that had lost its effect after all this time.

“I still don’t get why you call Emersyn that,” Andrea complained as she tugged her knit cap over her ears more securely. Her cheeks were already pinkening in the chill, but her eyes were brighter than they had been in months.

“You don’t need to know,” Milo told her.

“See,” Levi commented, slinging an arm over Andrea’s shoulders. “That means we definitely want to know.”

I didn’t roll my eyes because Bodhi just gave Levi a long look before he said. “No.” Just like that and Levi made a face. But that conversation was over. For now. “We’ll get the bags,” Bodhi said, giving me a squeeze before he headed to where the luggage was secure atop the vehicle.

Adam was already hauling Ezra out and saying something that had Ezra flushing with happiness before they headed over to help Bodhi. Levi followed and I caught Andrea watching Ezra and Adam.

“I still don’t know whether to think they’re cute or just gross.” The complaint was a common one. Particularly after walking in on the pair making out more than once. “I still think it’s gross that Adam kisses you.” She made a little sound of disgust and tromped off toward the main doors.

I sighed. Milo came up behind me and wrapped a warm hand around the back of my neck, grounding and familiar. I leaned into the touch despite myself.

“Hang in there, Mayhem,” he murmured. “We’re going to have fun.”

“I hope so,” I said, watching as the front doors swung open to reveal the inside as Andrea stomped her boots dry before stepping inside and pulling them off.

“Oh! Skis!” Andrea let off a shout of excitement and vanished into a ski room just off the entryway—rows of racks and benches already radiating future conflict.

Fourteen bedrooms, which somehow already felt like not enough. A commercial-grade kitchen that looked like it required certification. Somewhere in the back, was a hot tub that would absolutely invite shenanigans. Hell, I was thinking about who I could seduce and how and Andrea was already grossed out.

Snow drifted down around us, soft and quiet and deceptively peaceful.

All we wanted was a normal Christmas. Or at least to find out what normal was going to be for us.

Emersyn

The mountain road curved upward like a dare, all switchbacks and snow-dusted guardrails, and Kellan took it like he took everything else—steady, focused, in control. He was out front for a reason. He handled roads like this with muscle memory and calm, and I trusted him completely, which was saying something considering the drop-offs to our right.

Mickey lounged in the passenger seat, boots braced against the dash despite Kellan’s earlier warning, his attention split between the view and making commentary no one had asked for. I was wedged in the back between Freddie and Theo, shoulders touching, heat and winter gear layered thick enough that personal space was a theory rather than a reality.

Behind us, Rome, Vaughn, Jasper, and Liam followed in the second SUV, all of our gear strapped to the roofs like we were moving countries instead of spending a week in the mountains. I’d said we didn’t need half of it. No one had listened.

Especially not Liam.

He’d shown up with bags of brand-new winter gear—coats, gloves, boots, things with tags still on them—looking almost too damn pleased with himself. He’d wanted to get me something new, but in light of my past reactions when he’d bought me clothes, he often covered it up by getting stuff for everyone.

It was adorable, and thoughtful and I loved him so much. I was working on not assuming control and that he really did just want to spoil me. It was still a work in progress. Though the cute little lingerie he’d hidden in my bag had not gone unnoticed. The red lace was ridiculously impractical for skiing or anything else. So I would make sure to wear some of it every single day.

Kellan leaned slightly forward as the road narrowed, his eyes tracking the snow and shadows like they might move. That was another reason Liam was driving the second car—so Jasper wouldn’t try to turn the drive into a race. Jasper had argued, of course. Liam had just smiled and taken the keys.

Theo shifted beside me for what had to be the tenth time in as many minutes, his knee bouncing, jaw tight. He’d been like this since we’d left—quiet, closed off, wrapped in a mood he refused to explain.

“Let him be,” Freddie murmured under his breath, barely moving his lips. “He’ll figure it out.”

“I know,” I whispered back, though worry sat heavy in my chest.

Theo wasn’t a kid, not really. No more than I’d been at his age anyway. Only a few years younger than me, but there was something raw about him, something unfinished. His anger lived close to the surface, sharp and defensive, and I’d learned quickly that it was armor—used to cover hurt he didn’t trust anyone with yet.

We’d been making progress. Small things. Conversations that didn’t end in shutdown. Moments of connection that felt fragile but real.

Then Lainey and I had decided to do Christmas together. Neutral ground. One big house. Time to breathe.

Theo had gone on edge the moment the plan was finalized. Was it Andrea and Levi being there? Milo? The idea of family pressed too close, too fast? I didn’t know. And not knowing how to help him felt like failing at something I desperately wanted to get right.

Reaching back between the seats, Mickey rested his hand over my knee.

I blinked, then realized that like Theo, I had been bouncing it relentlessly. After a mouthed sorry, I blew Mickey a kiss. He just grinned at me, soft and patient, eyes warm like he had all the time in the world.

The road climbed higher. Snow thickened. Ahead of us, the mountains waited—beautiful, quiet, and entirely unaware of the chaos we were bringing with us.

The lodge announced itself before we even stopped.

Massive wooden doors swung open as our SUVs crunched into the drive, light and warmth spilling out like a welcome we hadn’t earned yet. Snow dusted the steps. Heat rolled out in a wave that fogged the windshield, and there—barefoot in thick socks, coat half-zipped, hair already escaping whatever attempt she’d made to tame it—was Lainey.

She grinned like she’d won something.

“Please tell me we’re not insane,” I said as soon as I was out of the car.

She crossed the space between us in three strides and slammed into me, arms tight, fierce, familiar. I clutched her back just as hard, the cold and the drive and the last few weeks dissolving in the impact.

“We absolutely are,” she murmured into my hair. “But at least we’re insane together.”

Her guys trailed after her, Adam first—steady, watchful—Milo right behind him, then Ezra, already smirking like he’d clocked every possible source of trouble.

Behind me, the Vandals spilled out of the vehicles in controlled chaos, greeting Lainey’s people with nods and half-grins and that low hum of mutual assessment that always came before camaraderie.

Adam clapped Liam on the shoulder. “Nice convoy. Planning to survive the apocalypse or just Christmas?”

Liam smiled, unfazed. “I like to be prepared. Especially when Jasper’s involved.”

“Rude,” Jasper called from the back of second SUV.

Ezra snorted. “Give it twelve hours. They’ll all be begging for the apocalypse.”

Freddie flipped him off without even looking.

Milo rolled his eyes. “Children.”

Then he was in front of me, arms wrapping around my shoulders and lifting me off the ground into a bear hug. It had taken us so long to repair the divide between us, but I adored my big brother and sank into his hug.

“Ivy,” he said softly.

I returned the embrace fiercely. “Hi.”

His gaze flicked past me, searching automatically—and found Theo. For half a second, Milo hesitated.

Theo saw it. His shoulders tensed, and then he pivoted abruptly, heading for the back of the SUV where Mickey was already popping the hatch.

“I’ll help,” Theo said, grabbing for a bag like it had personally offended him.

Milo sighed, quiet and resigned.

“Give him time,” I said, echoing Freddie’s earlier words.

Milo nodded, pressing a kiss to the top of my head. Then, without missing a beat, he leaned over and kissed Lainey’s hair too before heading toward the vehicles. “Let’s get this circus unloaded.”

Bodhi appeared from somewhere near the garage doors, already directing traffic like this was a military operation. “Park the second SUV there. We’ll stage the gear by the ski room.”

Freddie grabbed one of the duffels and bolted for the entrance. “Dibs on Boo Boo’s room!”

“That’s not how this works!” Milo shouted after him.

Freddie was already gone, laughter echoing back at us as the doors closed behind him.

Linking arms with Lainey, I leaned into her or maybe she leaned into me. I looked up at the towering lodge, at the snow falling thicker now, at the people filling the space with noise and warmth and history.

“We are absolutely crazy,” I confessed and she just laughed as she tugged me inside.

“All the best people are,” Bodhi called after us and it was my turn to laugh.

“No turning back now,” Lainey said. “C’mon, wait until you see the tree!”

Chapter Two

Lainey

We made it all the way to dinner before the first fight erupted.

Honestly? That felt like a win.

It just… wasn’t the fight I expected.

The kitchen was chaotic in that early-evening way—too many people, too many opinions, not enough counter space. Someone had claimed the commercial-grade stove like it owed them money. Someone else was arguing with an instruction manual. The teens had been suspiciously quiet, which should have been my first warning sign.

Andrea already had her coat on.

“I’m heading out,” she said, breezing past the island like this was a casual after-dinner stroll and not a dark mountain slope situation.

Adam didn’t even look up from the cutting board. “No. It’s dark. Wait until morning.”

Andrea stopped dead and turned slowly. “I can night ski.”

“I know,” Adam said calmly. “Not alone.”

That was the spark.

“I’m not a child,” she snapped. “I’ve done this a hundred times.”

“And you’ll do it again,” he replied, still maddeningly steady, “with someone else.” To be fair, I hated that tone of voice too, but he wasn’t wrong.

Her voice rose sharp and fast, words tumbling over each other—about trust, about being watched, about how everyone treated her like she was fragile glass instead of a person who knew her limits.

Theo and Levi stood frozen near the fridge, eyes wide, like they’d just stumbled into a live demonstration of What Not to Do With Family.

I opened my mouth, instincts kicking in. “Andrea, hey—”

She rounded on me so fast I barely had time to blink. “Don’t,” she said, voice cracking. “You don’t get to tell me to calm down. None of you do.”

The room went very still. It wasn’t our first fight like this. Andrea still grieved for our mother and her father, though she was furious with him too and refused to discuss it with anyone. Not me. Not Grandfather, not anyone. She hated that Adam and I had joint custody where she was concerned.

Right now, I thought she hated the fact we were even here.

Then Em pushed up from the table where she’d been avoiding food prep after all the guys shuffled her out of the way. She stunned everyone when she said, “I’ll go with you.”

Every head turned.

Em stood there easy and grounded, hands loose at her sides like this was the most reasonable suggestion in the world. “I haven’t done night skiing in a while, so we’ll stick to the greens. But I’ll go.”

Adam looked torn. Andrea looked stunned. Theo looked like someone had just rewritten gravity. Shockingly, or maybe not so much, none of her guys objected. Not even Milo. That released something fierce in my chest. Em was healing and healing enough that they weren’t so worried about her every breath.

“I’ll come too,” Liam said immediately, already reaching for his coat. Okay, maybe there was still some ground to cover but I didn’t blame them for wanting to go with her.

Em shook her head, quick and gentle but firm. “Why doesn’t Lainey come?” she said, glancing at me. “Then it’s just us girls. You guys can… make food. Or try to.”

That earned a couple of low groans and one offended noise from Ezra.

For a second, it hung there—uncertain, fragile. Like the whole trip balanced on whether someone would push back.

Then Bodhi and Kellan spoke at the exact same time.

“Sounds like a plan.”

I exhaled without realizing I’d been holding my breath.

Andrea hesitated, then nodded once, sharp and decisive, already pulling her gloves back on.

“Grab your coat,” Em said to me softly.

Agreed. This wasn’t about skiing anymore.

It was about space. About choice. About showing a furious, hurting teenager that someone would meet her where she was instead of trying to drag her somewhere else.

And if this Christmas was already determined to go off the rails—we might as well ski straight into it.

The air outside slapped me awake in the best way.

Cold, clean, sharp—like the mountain had opinions and wasn’t shy about sharing them. We moved fast, bundled up and quiet, boots thudding against stone as the lodge door closed behind us. No one tried to stop us. No one called after us. That alone felt like a minor miracle.

The lodge had private slope access—Bodhi, of course, had thought of that—and within minutes we were clipping into skis beneath a wash of white lights. The run fed directly into a blue-green junction, wide and forgiving, the snow groomed smooth and glowing faintly under the lamps.

There were other skiers out, scattered and respectful, their movements soft and distant. No yelling. No chaos. Just the low hum of lifts and the whisper of skis carving snow.

I pushed off, following Em, Andrea just ahead of me. The world narrowed to breath and balance, to the steady slide downhill. The noise in my head—the dinner tension, the raised voices, the way Andrea’s anger had cracked—started to loosen its grip.

We skied in comfortable silence, stopping where the slope flattened near the chair lift. Steam curled from our breath. The lift creaked overhead, chairs swinging lazily by.

Andrea glanced back at us, eyes bright in the glow of the lights.

“This is… actually really nice,” she admitted.

Then she smiled.

Not big. Not performative. Just real—and so unexpected it made my chest ache a little.

Em grinned back at her, easy and warm. “Told you.”

I laughed quietly, tension finally draining out of my shoulders. The mountain felt hushed and held, like it was giving us a pause we hadn’t known how to ask for.

We slid forward as the next chair approached, the lift attendant waving us on.

For the first time since we’d arrived, it felt like maybe—just maybe—we were going to survive this Christmas after all.

We loaded onto the chair lift with practiced ease, the bar dropping down in front of us with a soft clack. The mountain stretched out below, lights tracing the runs like constellations mapped onto snow. The cold bit at my cheeks, but it was the good kind—the kind that made you feel present.

For a minute, we just rode.

Then Em broke the silence, voice easy over the hum of the lift. “How are your dance classes going?”

Andrea glanced down at her skis swinging beneath us. “I… actually took your advice.”

Em tipped her head, curious. “Yeah?”

“I stuck with ballet,” Andrea said. “Just ballet. For now.” She shrugged, but there was something steadier in it than before. “The discipline feels good. Like… I know where I’m supposed to be.”

Em smiled, small and proud. “That makes sense.”

“I’m glad I did the other stuff when I was younger,” Andrea went on. “But I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to do pointe. At the same time, I think I want to. I don’t even know why I want to…” Or why dance had suddenly become an obsession, but I left that alone.

It was the hardest thing I’d ever done to take a step back on this issue. Andrea was asking for help from the one person I knew could understand her better right now than anyone else. The one person I trusted with her to know this too.

“That’s okay,” Em said without hesitation. “It’s all basics until it’s muscle memory. Strength comes before shoes.”

Andrea absorbed that, nodding slowly. Then, quieter, “When did you know you were ready to add more?”

Em thought about it. Probably considered all the things that had gone into her decision—avoiding her uncle, getting as far away from them as she could, hiding who she was and her pain, and how much any of that would help Andrea. Em was so much stronger than she knew, she always had been.

“I gave it time. Let it settle. When the foundation felt solid, I added other styles. I was free when I danced,” she said the last few words so softly, I almost missed them but Andrea was so focused on her.

“That freedom was worth all the lessons and the repetition.” Em blew out a breath. “So add other styles when you are ready or even when you want to so you can remember why it should also be fun.”

Then she waved at the slope beneath us. “Just don’t forget that everything builds off the discipline.” She paused, then added lightly, “Even skiing.”

Andrea snorted—and then laughed. Really laughed. The sound surprised and relaxed me.

I leaned back against the seat, smiling to myself as the chair carried us higher into the dark. The tension that had followed us out of the lodge was gone now, left somewhere back on the slope below.

Above us, the mountain loomed calm and steady. Below us, the lodge waited with its noise and chaos and people we loved.

Up here—suspended between sky and snow—things felt simple.

Emersyn

I’d always loved skiing, night skiing the best. It was kind of why I’d loved aerial dancing. There was this hush and isolation, the world there but at a distance. It was exactly that here. It had been so long since I’d been on skis, I’d probably ache in the morning but I really didn’t care. I could survive soreness.

The mountain went quiet in a way that made everything else fade—no sharp edges, no noise you had to dodge. Just movement and muscle memory and the soft hiss of skis cutting through snow. I let myself fall into that rhythm as we pushed off again, keeping us on the gentler runs, wide and forgiving, lights glowing overhead like a promise that someone was paying attention.

I watched them as much as I skied.

Andrea needed the escape—I could see it in the way her shoulders finally loosened, the way she leaned into speed just enough to feel free without tipping into reckless. Too many people, too much love packed too tightly together could feel suffocating, even when it came from a good place. Especially then. She’d been holding so much pain inside herself, careful and quiet about it, and I was more than willing to help carry some of it tonight.

I loved Lainey’s sister. Every inch of her fierce and stubborn pride that tried to mask the buried pain. Particular the hurt that refused to stay hidden no matter how much she attempted to disguise it from herself.

Lainey skied a little behind us, watchful without meaning to be. She was trying—God, she was trying so hard—not to charge in and fix everything with her whole heart and both hands. I caught the way her gaze kept flicking to Andrea, measuring her mood, her breath, her balance, like she might shatter if Lainey looked away for too long.

There were lighter moments, too.

Andrea teased me about my cautious pace. Lainey pretended to scold her and immediately smiled when Andrea rolled her eyes. At one point, Andrea reached out and grabbed Lainey’s glove on the lift, just for a second—no words, just contact.

Those were the moments I liked best. The quiet ones. The ones where Lainey let herself stay still.

On one of our stops, Lainey drifted closer to me, skis parallel, breath fogging the air. “I hate this,” she muttered softly. “Standing on the outside of it. I did that for too long with you.”

“But I always knew you were there for me and she knows it too.” I met her eyes, steady. “You’ve got this,” I murmured. “And we’ve got her. It’s going to be all right.”

She blew out a breath, shoulders dropping an inch. Nodded.

Then, very quietly, very honestly, she said, “I just wish I could kill all of those bastards all over again.”

Yeah.

“I know,” I said. “But they’re all dead now. Now we take care of the present. And we live here too.” I nudged her ski with mine. “It’s for the best.”

She huffed a humorless laugh and nodded again, accepting it even if she didn’t like it.

We skied for almost ninety minutes—laps and lifts and easy conversation, the mountain doing its quiet work. By the time Andrea admitted she was hungry, her earlier sharpness had softened into something tired but lighter. Healing didn’t look dramatic most of the time. It looked like this.

Growling stomachs finally sent us back toward the lodge, lights glowing brighter as we approached.

The doors swung open.

Noise. Shouting. Laughter. Someone arguing about pasta. Someone else arguing about knives. The unmistakable scent of something burning just enough to be concerning. Boxes, decorations, and tinsel were everywhere. The ski room already looked like it had hosted a small war.

Andrea stopped beside me, eyes wide.

I braced myself even as I unzipped my jacket.

Lainey just groaned. “What did we miss?”

Whatever it was, it had waited patiently for our return.

The sound hit us first.

Bells—actual jingle bells—clanging wildly, layered over laughter and shouted insults, punctuated by a heavy thump that rattled the walls. Andrea flinched. I felt it too, instinctive, the way chaos could spike before you decided whether it was fun or dangerous.

Then we stepped fully inside.

The Christmas tree stood in the center of the great room, easily twelve feet tall and aggressively alive with activity. Ornaments were flying at it. Not placed. Thrown.

“Bullseye!” Jasper crowed as a red ball exploded tinsel and glitter somewhere in the branches.

“Doesn’t count if it ricochets!” Vaughn yelled back.

“That’s not a rule,” Kellan said, sounding so patient and relaxed, it both delighted and worried me. “You just made that up because you missed.”

Theo stood near the couch, a box of ornaments tucked under one arm, watching the mayhem with the faintest hint of a grin tugging at his mouth as he lobbed one—clean, precise—into the tree. It stuck.

Levi whooped. “Okay, that was actually impressive.”

“I told you,” Theo said, trying and failing to sound unimpressed.

Rome sat at another table, paint brush in hand decorating another set of ornaments with swift, decisive strokes as Liam held another piece for him patiently.

Lainey pressed a hand to her forehead. “We were only gone for ninety minutes.”

“Long enough,” Ezra called cheerfully, “to level up.”

Sure enough, someone—Jasper, I suspected—had taped lines on the floor. Distances. Zones. Increasing difficulty. A ladder leaned against the wall, already abandoned, and there were points being argued loudly and with great conviction.

Shockingly, Milo and Adam stood at the far side of the room, heads canted exactly the same way, each holding a beer as they watched Ezra and Jasper take aim. I was still deciding whether to intervene when my eyes tracked left, then I stopped breathing for a second.

Freddie and Bodhi stood near the far wall, shoulders relaxed, utterly focused. They weren’t throwing anything.

They were pinning decorations to the wall.

With knives.

Not aggressively. Not wildly. Carefully. Methodically. A pattern emerging—symmetry, spacing, deliberate placement. Ornaments glinted where the blades held them in place, garland looped and anchored, lights woven through it all like some unholy blend of festive and feral.

Freddie leaned back to assess their work. “We’re off by an inch on the left.”

Bodhi adjusted without comment, flicking a knife just enough to correct it.

“There,” Freddie said, satisfied.

I glanced at Lainey.

She stared. Mouth slightly open. Eyes flicking between the tree chaos and the wall of weaponized cheer.

Andrea let out a small, disbelieving laugh. “Is this… normal for you guys?”

It wasn’t abnormal. Still, I tilted my head, considering. “Seasonal.”

Lainey snorted despite herself. The tension bled out of her in a rush, replaced by something like reluctant amusement.

“I don’t know whether to be worried,” she said slowly, “or impressed.”

Freddie looked over his shoulder, grinning. “Why not both?”

Another ornament sailed through the air. Bells rang. Someone cheered. Someone cursed. Theo laughed—actually laughed—and that alone felt like a small victory.

I watched them all for a moment, the chaos loud and ridiculous and strangely perfect, and felt something settle in my chest. This was madness. I loved them all so much. I was still taking it all in when I noticed the top of the tree.

There, balanced precariously on a step stool someone had absolutely not secured, sat a bedazzled stapler. Red rhinestones caught the light, glittering like it had aspirations beyond symbolism

“That’s not—” Lainey started.

“The star,” Jasper announced solemnly, “is overrated.”

“It’s symbolic,” Freddie added. “Industrial. Festive.” His eyes were absolutely dancing as he winked at me.

“Extremely aerodynamic,” Vaughn said, lining up a test throw before being shouted down by three people at once.

I scanned the rest of the room more carefully. There were ornaments everywhere—carefully placed ones, thankfully. Glass balls nestled safely on side tables. Garland draped with intention. Nothing else broken yet, which felt like tempting fate just by thinking it.

Then Mickey appeared at my side like he’d been summoned by my concern.

He handed Lainey a glass of red wine. Then me one. Cold stem, solid weight—exactly what I needed. He nodded toward Andrea next, pointing to the far end of the table where a lineup of sodas had been arranged with suspicious care.

“Fuel station’s over there,” he told her lightly. “Hydration without the regret.”

Andrea grinned and went, boots thumping, eyes still darting back to the madness like she didn’t quite want to miss a second of it.

“No one’s lost an eye yet,” Mickey added cheerfully. “Which means this is already a marked improvement over where it was heading.”

I lifted my glass an inch. “Do I want to know?”

He grinned, all teeth and mischief. “No,” he said. “Little Bit, you don’t.”

Then he leaned in—smooth, unapologetic—and kissed me. He paused a moment to wink, motioned above me at the mistletoe, then grinned and stole another kiss that he deepened this time.

Somewhere behind us, someone wolf-whistled. Someone else booed. Freddie yelled, “That counts!”

Mickey pulled back just enough to smile at me, eyes warm and bright. “Festive rules.”

Lainey laughed beside me, shaking her head. “I can’t believe this is real.”

I took a sip of wine, watched Theo line up another throw while Levi coached him like this was an Olympic event, watched Freddie and Bodhi admire their knife-pinned wall art like proud decorators, watched Andrea sip her soda and smile—small, but genuine.

“It is,” I said softly. “But look, somehow… it’s working.”

The bells rang again. Something thumped. The stapler wobbled dangerously at the top of the tree.

Our Christmas, unhinged and unstoppable, rolled right on.

Chapter Three

Lainey

Twenty-four hours in, and no one had needed stitches.

I counted that as a success.

I woke slowly, warm and cocooned, the world distant and muffled. Milo’s arm was draped heavy around my waist, familiar and solid, while Bodhi’s leg was thrown over mine like he’d claimed me sometime in the early hours and refused to give me back. My cheek was pressed against Milo’s chest, the steady rhythm of his breathing anchoring me.

I stayed there longer than I probably should have.

The quiet was rare. Sacred, even. For a brief, selfish moment, I let myself pretend the lodge existed in a bubble where nothing demanded my attention and no one needed me to mediate, soothe, or plan.

Then the lodge woke up.

Doors banged. Someone laughed too loudly. Boots hit the floor above us like a small herd of animals had been released. A voice—Ezra’s, unmistakably—shouted something about optimal snow conditions that no one had asked for.

I sighed against Milo’s skin.

“Ski lessons,” Bodhi murmured sleepily, like the word itself explained everything.

“I thought I’d have to herd them with a cattle prod,” I said. “But somehow… they’re motivated.”

“Fear,” Milo said dryly. “Of embarrassment.” When he threw me over his shoulder and carried me into the shower, he motivated me too. Course, that might have more to do with the way he pinned me to the wall and fucked me into the tile.

The fact Bodhi followed us and then joined in didn’t hurt in the slightest. I was already aching in all the best ways by the time we got around to actually washing. “So tempting to go back to bed,” I teased.

“Later,” Bodhi promised.

“We told Ezra if he behaved, she could sleep with him and Adam tonight,” Milo reminded us and I had to bite back a laugh. The fact the boys all negotiated where I would sleep was adorable. That they took the turns even easier was—wonderful.

“Ezra never behaves,” Bodhi said, then gave me an indulgent look. “So, you’ll be ours again tonight.”

I was still laughing when we got downstairs for coffee and I got claimed in two, very breathless and heated kisses, the first from our troublemaker himself—Ezra and then another from Adam that lingered so long, I was panting when he finished.

“Gross,” Andrea commented with only a hint of a wrinkled nose as she handed me my coffee.

“Love you too,” I said, then bussed her cheek with a raspberry that made her laugh so hard she snorted. Satisfied, I drifted deeper into the kitchen where someone—Kellan I discovered—had fixed a huge breakfast.

Doc announced over coffee that he’d be sitting this one out, setting himself up near the lodge with a medical kit and a chair like a benevolent, judgmental god. I’ll be here when you fall, he’d said cheerfully. Not if. When.

Shockingly, it took far less chaos than expected to get everyone geared up and outside.I probably should have been more suspicious.

Because right about the time I realized Bodhi and Freddie were no longer in my line of sight, it clicked. They’d vanished—cleanly, efficiently—with Theo, Levi, and Andrea in tow.

Of course they had.

Leaving Em and me to manage the rest.

Liam and Adam immediately turned the lesson into a competition—who could get downhill faster, who could stop cleaner, who looked less ridiculous doing it. Ezra egged them on from the sidelines with commentary that should have required a permit.

“This is a teaching environment,” I called. “Not a proving ground.”

Ezra grinned. “Everything’s a proving ground if you’re brave enough.”

Rome waited patiently. Then, with surgical precision, he skied just close enough to Ezra to clip his balance and sent him tumbling neatly into a drift.

Rome didn’t even slow down.

Ezra emerged sputtering, snow in his hair and mouth. “I will remember this.”

“Okay,” Rome called back serenely.

Milo took to the slopes carefully, controlled and thoughtful, like everything he did. I hovered for half a second out of habit—then caught Em’s eye. She nodded once, subtle and sure.

Go.

So I did.

I let the siblings have their space, watched Em guide Milo with quiet encouragement, watched Theo in the distance already laughing—actually laughing—with Freddie and Bodhi as they demonstrated something that looked halfway between skiing and reckless joy.

The mountain sparkled under a pale winter sun. The lodge stood solid and waiting behind us.

Somehow—against all odds—it was working. We were still standing. We were still together.

The group fractured naturally after the first few runs, like water finding its own level.

The more experienced skiers —Liam, Adam, Ezra, and Rome—peeled off toward the blue. For his part, Liam looked almost relieved to be heading for a challenge, Ezra thrived anywhere there was speed and an audience, and Rome… Rome just moved like he’d done this every day of his life. Maybe he was just that much of a natural or he’d gone skiing with Liam before. Neither would have surprised me.

I followed them without much thought, glancing back once to make sure Em had the rest covered. Unsurprisingly, she did.

Vaughn, Jasper, Kellan, and Milo clustered around her on the greens, laughing already. Jasper exaggerated a wobble that earned him boos. Vaughn offered unsolicited advice. Kellan listened carefully. Milo smiled in that soft, contained way that meant he was enjoying himself more than he let on.

Em caught my eye and lifted two fingers in a casual salute.

I turned back to the blues, content.

Bodhi and Freddie still had the kids, though the situation had evolved. Freddie had ditched his skis for a snowboard, carving easy arcs down the slope like he’d been waiting all morning for the excuse. Theo and Levi had followed suit, boards under their feet, confidence growing with every run. Andrea zipped between them, fearless and bright, Bodhi shadowing her just enough to let her feel independent without being reckless.

It was… good. All of it.

Ezra skied up close enough to invade my space, flashing a grin. “You know,” he said, “you look unfairly good in winter gear.”

Adam snorted. “He says that to everyone.”

“I absolutely do not,” Ezra protested. “I’m selective.”

“Dangerously so,” Adam said dryly.

Ezra leaned in closer to me anyway, voice dropping. “I can multitask. Compliment you and Adam equally.”

Adam’s hand found the small of my back, warm and steady, indulgent in the way that always made my chest feel too full. “He’s going for charming,” he said. “Mostly.”

I smiled, because I knew that tone—fond, amused, secure. It made me happy in a way that felt quiet and deep instead of sharp and overwhelming.

Liam and Ezra took off together on the next run, immediately turning it into a race. Rome followed at his own pace, unbothered, carving smooth lines like he had nowhere else to be.

That left Adam and me alone on the lift.

The chair creaked as it carried us upward, the world falling away beneath our dangling skis. Snow dusted the air, sunlight catching on ice crystals until everything glittered.

For a while, we didn’t say anything.

Adam’s glove brushed mine, then his fingers curled around my hand, gentle and certain. I leaned into him, resting my head against his shoulder, the cold forgotten.

“You doing okay?” he asked softly.

I nodded. “Better than I thought I would be.”

He hummed, like that made sense. “You don’t have to hold everything together all the time, you know.”

“Pot,” I smiled faintly, then tapped my chest. “Kettle.”

A soft laugh escaped him and he gave my fingers a squeeze through the gloves. “You’re doing good.”

“That’s because, I’m the best,” I reminded him with a touch of Ezra’s boasting.

“Yes,” Adam murmured and when I glanced at him, he tugged my face mask down and then kissed me slowly. It was—perfect.

“I love you,” I whispered against his mouth and he chuckled, deepening the kiss for just a moment.

“Because I’m also the best.” He deadpanned it perfectly. Yes, yes he was. All four of them were.

The lift carried us higher, quiet and unhurried, the mountain spread out below us—friends scattered across it, laughter drifting faintly on the wind.

For a moment, everything felt balanced.

Then Ezra yelled something indistinct from somewhere far below, and Adam sighed. “He’s going to get his ass kicked.”

I laughed, squeezing his hand as the chair reached the top. Tender moment over.

Emersyn

The greens were perfect. Gentle slopes, soft snow, no one pushing too hard—just enough for laughter, teasing, and reminiscing.

I skied alongside Milo, Vaughn, Jasper, and Kellan, letting them banter and watching the way they bounced off each other. Jasper exaggerated his wobble for comic effect, Vaughn rolled his eyes but laughed anyway, Kellan offered unsolicited advice with the patience of a saint, and Milo… Milo just smiled, warm and easy, letting it all roll over him.

“Remember that Christmas when we were fourteen?” Milo said suddenly, voice low but full of that quiet amusement he reserved for us. “When we rescued the saddest trees they had?”

“Thirteen,” Kellan corrected. “Fourteen is when we snagged the trees from North Side and delivered them to the community centers on Eighth.”

“Right,” Milo said with a grunt, though his expression said both were rather cherished memories.

“Trees,” Jasper snorted. “They were practically twigs. You could’ve carried one under your arm like a broomstick.”

“We carried a few of them like that,” Vaughn commented. “Then decorated them anyway,” Vaughn added. “With what we had. Paper chains, whatever scraps we could find. The discarded ornaments from behind the grocery store.”

“Yeah,” Kellan said with an almost wistful sigh that I wasn’t used to hearing from them. “We liberated a few discards that year and built that first car model.”

“I’m just glad you didn’t mind that the tires were the wrong kind,” Jasper admitted.

“Or that we had to snag some paint from one of the construction projects.” Vaughn shook his head. “It took Rome hours to blend that down to the right shade.”

I laughed softly, warmth spilling into my chest. There was something magical about hearing them reminisce—not just the fun of it, but the resilience, the humor they found even in the worst moments.

“More than once,” Milo said, glancing at me, “someone tossed our tree across the room. But we’d just go get another. Rome finally painted one on the back of the door. Months it stayed up before one of the matrons found it.” He shook his head, grinning. “The shit fit that woman had.”

“I didn’t even know you could curse without words,” Jasper said, pressing a hand to his chest. “Woman had skills.”

I grinned too, caught up in it all. I loved seeing this—the laughter, the friendship, the way they’d carved joy out of anything. I could’ve stayed on this slope forever just listening.

At different moments, I caught sight of Liam and Rome racing off with the others, and Freddie and Bodhi zigzagging through the kids like chaos incarnate. My chest warmed seeing them all happy, thriving in the snow, making memories that would stick just as firmly as the old ones we’d survived.

Each time the lift carried me up, I took the time to kiss each of the guys, letting the cold air and the thrill of the run amplify the stolen moments. I’d slept with Freddie the night before. He didn’t like to sleep with any of the other guys in the bed. So they’d let him have it.

I’d be with Rome and Liam tonight. Kel and Jasper tomorrow—or maybe Vaughn and Mickey. Though Mickey never stayed in the bed all night even if one of the others was there to protect me. He absolutely refused to hurt me. We all had our own quirks, and damage. As Freddie liked to say, we were all a little fucked up.

Some of us… were a lot fucked up. But I loved them all.

Milo teased me the first few times, insisting I didn’t need that many kisses while Vaughn and Jasper laughed from their spots nearby. By the fourth ride, I was still giggling, cheeks flushed, snowflakes melting on my lashes, when Milo and I caught the next chair up.

“I think you need a break from all the… snogging,” he said with that teasing half-smile, hand finding mine.

“Snogging?” I demanded then burst out laughing. “Lainey made you watch Love, Actually, didn’t she?”

“I’ll plead the fifth on that,” he said with a grin. I laughed all over again, because really, how could I not?

He just shook his head at me, quiet, steady, and it made everything—every laugh, every memory, every fleeting worry—feel lighter.

Christmas morning hit like a snowball to the face.

Chaos reigned, as it should have. Skis leaned against walls, boots scattered across floors, ornaments dangled at every eye level. The smell of breakfast—eggs, bacon, coffee, pastries—mingled with pine and the faint tang of spilled cocoa. The coffee, however, had been perfect.

Presents were everywhere. Paper in crumpled piles, ribbons tangled, small explosions of glitter caught in the sunlight streaming through the windows. Everyone teased as the teens debated strategy for opening gifts, someone shouted about the “best tree ever” and someone else demanded that the hot chocolate be measured properly.

I loved it.

Loved the noise, the laughter, the way everyone—every single chaotic, loud, ridiculous person—was here and alive and part of it.

At some point, Lainey caught my eye. We exchanged a silent, conspiratorial glance. With a smirk, we slipped away, taking the winding stairs down to the hot tub. The bottle of wine came with us. Steam rose from the water in swirls, curling against the night air like smoke from a tiny fire.

Lainey settled into the water with a sigh, letting the warmth seep through her. “How did you… keep them from joining us?” she asked.

I grinned, leaning back against the edge, letting the warmth cradle me. “I told Milo you and I were going to be naked up here,” I said casually. “He locked the door, got a gun, and stood in front of it. Pretty sure Liam and Bodhi are helping.”

Lainey laughed, high and free, shaking her head. “God, I love this family.”

We sank lower into the water, the steam curling around our shoulders, our suits clinging to us, the night sky black velvet above. Snow began to drift down, soft flakes that caught in our hair and eyelashes.

Somewhere inside the lodge, glass shattered. Laughter erupted. An argument flared between Andrea, Levi, and Theo.

I leaned back, letting my head rest against the tub edge, and grinned at Lainey.

“Merry unhinged Christmas,” I murmured.

She raised her glass, warm eyes twinkling. “The best one yet.”

Above us, snow continued to fall. Inside, chaos continued to reign. For the first time in forever, it all felt perfectly, wonderfully ours.

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