Throwing my beaten backpack on the couch, I collapsed into the peeling leather armchair. I let out a long groan, my tortured feet throbbing rhythmically as I relaxed in the aging recliner. 

It had been a grueling double shift at Burgerbyte. A swarm of antsy customers travelling for the holidays had overtaken us in waves from the moment we opened. Thankfully, our store closed at 6pm on Christmas eve and wouldn't reopen until the day after Christmas. I had run from the store as soon as I'd put the last of the clean dishes away.

In the distance, sounds of Kris struggling to maneuver on her crutches echoed from her bedroom. A string of colorful language later, the redheaded woman slowly hobbled into view. 

"Merry Krismas!" I taunted her playfully from my seat. I was out of range for her to hit me with her crutches, which I used to my advantage.

"It's entirely too early for those kind of puns. Christmas isn't until tomorrow." Kris rolled her eyes, her statement punctuated with a wince as she jostled her cast. Eventually she made her way to the couch, carefully lowering herself down onto the faded blue cushions. 

I snorted, but Kris' narrowed chocolate eyes and the end of a crutch pointed at my face stopped me from teasing the cranky ginger any further. "Anyways, how was your day?" 

Kris lowered her weapon at the change of subject, shifting uncomfortably. 

"It's been a helluva holiday already. Dylan didn't shut the door on Matt's truck hard enough last night so the battery was dead this morning. We had to get the neighbor across the street to jump the Chevy so Matt could get to work on time. Dylan got a call that Old Ma James needed his help today. Some family lost power to their kitchen."

"So it's just you and me for now, then?" I leaned back in my chair, scrolling on my phone. The sinking feeling in my stomach intensified when I realized that meant we probably wouldn't see the boys for another few hours.

The sound of my ringtone radiating from my phone pulled me from my thoughts. I looked at the screen.

Incoming video call from Lily Miller.

My eyes nearly bugged out of my head and I sat bolt upright, nearly launching myself out of the aging recliner. I tried in vain to tame my hair, adjusting my grease-stained work shirt.

Kris sent me a questioning look as I scrambled to improve my haggard appearance, raising an eyebrow at me. "It's Lily!" I whisper-shouted, as if our former friend could hear me before I'd answered the call.

Kris' confusion morphed into shock and then her gaze fell. Lily was a bit of a sore subject for both of us. We'd both been branded non-believers and rebellious teenagers straying from the church after we left.

My finger lingered over the decline button for several moments, but once I saw the curious expression on kris' face that mirrored my own, I tapped the green icon on my phone. 

The giddy face of my former friend greeted me.

"Hello?" I hesitantly answered.

"Faith!" Lily gushed, moving her hand into view. Through the shifting pixels, I could see the faint outline of a sparkling engagement ring. I could feel my brows knitting together and I struggled to form an acceptable response. Realistically, I knew I should be happy for her. But I couldn't shake the twisting feeling in my stomach, my initial bewilderment morphing into mortification. Lily was a few months younger than me and the thought of marrying someone at this age was laughable.

Her soft, honeyed voice cut through my warring thoughts. "It was so romantic, Paul asked me in front of the whole congregation after the Christmas concert!" 

A small, genuine smile tugged at the corner of my lips. Lily had always been a hopeless romantic, dreaming of a fairytale wedding and grand gestures from her fantasy man. The only man she loved more then her Daddy was God. An obnoxious proposal in front of her whole church 'family' was right up her alley.

I saw a man in the background move into frame, embracing the plain-looking girl on the camera. I remembered him as the deacon's son from our old church. He was no older then 20, with kind eyes and a portly frame. I could see the faint outline of facial hair on his round face, framing his crooked smile. The saccharine sweet couple looked more like high school sweethearts than adults preparing for marriage. 

"Congratulations, guys!" The words sounded hollow as they slid past my lips. It wasn't uncommon for girls in our church to get engaged once they turned 18, but as smart as Lily was, I had assumed she'd wait a few more years before entertaining the idea of marriage. 

"You're gonna be one of my bridesmaids, right?"

The question shouldn't have surprised me, but I felt my eyebrows ascending into my hairline.  I could see Kris' jaw drop as she frantically motioned at me to say something. Taking a long breath of air in, I tried to channel the manners and the etiquette my mother had painstakingly taught me as a child. 

"I'd be honored to be one of your bridesmaids, Lily!" The words tumbling out of my mouth didn't sound like my own and I struggled to keep the illusion of excitement. 

If my expression suggested unease, Lily ignored it. Instead, she proceeded to regale me with countless wedding prep ideas. They were getting married in the spring in the church, just as our parents had years prior. They were on a tight budget and she'd be making most of the decorations, flower arrangements and signs by herself. 

"I'm so excited to see you! We should have a girls night and make wedding crafts together!" It now made a lot more sense why I was suddenly invited after months of radio silence. Lily's parents had made it known when we left the church that they didn't want Kris and I corrupting their holy, obedient middle child. They needed help putting together the wedding without spending an arm and a leg.

 As I mulled over the implications of me helping with wedding planning, the groom-to-be excused himself, seeming relieved to worm his way out of the 'woman talk'.

Lily continued to gush about the wedding for a few more minutes and I found out my bridesmaid dress would be a sickly shade of baby pink, a fact that made my nose crinkle in distaste, but I hid my disgust for Lily's sake. 

Soon, she was being called by one of her countless siblings. Turning back to the camera, she offered me an apologetic smile. "Sorry, I got to go. The Twins just woke up and they're ready to open presents. We'll talk soon. Love you!"

"Love you..." I trailed off as Lily ended the call, flopping back into the chair with a huff. 

Lily, Kris and myself had been pretty close as children. We had the same Sunday school teacher and our parents-minus Ms. Wooding- often did bible studies together while the kids played in the backyard. 

It seemed like only yesterday I was hugging Lily for the last time before I moved to the Wooding household. Her parent's hadn't approved of us staying in touch when I moved out 'into the world', especially when people in the church found out I'd be moving into the Wooding household.

I glanced up at Kris, her face taut and contemplative. She let out a long sign and ran a hand through her wild curls. "Well, that was interesting." Her voice was flat, her eyes downturned as she looked away.

"I don't know why she didn't invite you." I offered.

Kris let out a bitter, watery laugh. "Isn't it obvious? The only person that ever really wanted us around was you and your family. We were the children of dirty sinners that they hoped to redeem. When we left the church, there was a collective sigh of relief." She crossed her arms and sunk further into the embrace of the faded blue upholstery. 

I gave her a sympathetic look. "I'm sorry, Kris, I should have told her no."

Kris shook her head. "It's not your fault. You don't have to not go somewhere just because I'm not invited."

The sound of Matt's truck pulling into the driveway cut out conversation short. Kris and I exchanged confused glances and I rushed over to the diamond-shaped window in our front door. Sure enough, I could see the dim headlights of Matt's beloved truck coming to a stop in front of the house. 

"Matt's home." My curiosity satisfied, I returned to my peeling throne in the corner of the living room just as Matt swung the door open. Kris and I waved at him as he tossed his toolbelt on the table. 

"That's not where that goes, Matt." Kris grumbled.

Matt waved a hand at her dismissively, removing his hardhat. "I'll put it away in a little bit, Kris. I just got off work and it's Christmas Eve." He slumped down into a wobbly barstool, running a hand through his dirty hair. 

"Do you have any clue when Dylan will get home?" Kris asked.

Matt shook his head, rubbing the back of his neck. His tired eyes drifted over to the window. "I doubt it'll be much longer, though. Old Man James usually doesn't like to drive after dark."

I stood, walking into the kitchen and perusing the meager contents of our cabinets for something to make for dinner. My search resulted in a box of instant mashed potatoes and some cans of green beans. Now I just needed something for meat. I shuffled to the fridge ad looked inside. I managed to get my hands on some leftover beef from a pot roast we'd made earlier in the week. 

Having gathered my ingredients, I grabbed pots and started warming the water and milk for the mashed potatoes. With some assistance from Matt, I managed to convince our thrift-store can opener to cut through the stubborn metal.

I fell into a practiced rhythm. While cooking wasn't one of my favorite pastimes, I was rather proficient at it. Before long, I'd made something resembling a meal.

I pulled out a loaf of white bread, toasting the store brand baked good in our toaster and adding butter and garlic powder to make a delicious imitation of Garlic bread.

Just before I finished my masterpiece, the youngest Wooding boy burst through the door. He looked tired but accomplished, walking into the kitchen and trying to sneak a piece of bread. I shooed his hand away with a slotted spoon. 

"Don't you dare, Dylan!" I hissed, resulting in a hushed snicker from Matt.

Dylan sheepishly backed away before turning and walking towards the rear of the trailer, presumably to get changed into something more comfortable. 

I glanced over at Matt, my lip curling in disgust as I saw his work items strewn across the table. "Matt, go wash up for supper and take your tools with you." 

His eyebrows furrowed and he opened his mouth to give me a snarky retort, but catching Kris' intense glare radiating from the couch, he simply nodded and made his way back towards the bedrooms, taking his belongings with him. 

I used a wet washcloth to wipe the table of any stray crumbs or dirt and started setting the table with our mismatched dishware. 

Once I was finished, I stood back and hollered to the boys that the food was done. I looked over to Kris, who was working on getting up out of the sagging couch. I knew better than to try and help her up, lest I catch a crutch to the shinbone. 

Soon, we were all seated at the table, Matt saying the blessing. We passed the food around the table, both Matt and Dylan piling a small mountain of mashed potatoes and garlic bread on their plates. 

I looked around the table at my little makeshift family, feeling a smile tugging at my lips. Kris and Matt were arguing about the amount of garlic bread the boys were hoarding in comparison to us girls. Dylan had his head in his hand, watching his older siblings bicker. His chocolate eyes met my own and he gave me a genuine smile, the dimples in his cheeks emphasized by the gesture. 

Our situation wasn't perfect, by any means. The mashed potatoes were stale, the pot roast was a bit tough due to being reheated multiple times. Even so, with my current company it was more delicious then any of the elaborate potlucks or family feasts back home.

I looked over to our donated Christmas tree, the artificial fir's multicolored lights casting a soft ethereal glow across the trailer. The sparse gifts under the tree were wrapped in crinkled cheap colored paper from the dollar store, but I was still looking forward to the gleeful opening of presents in the morning.

Despite all the hardship over the last few months, it was the best Christmas any of us had in years.