I found myself waking up long before my alarm on Christmas morning. I felt like a child, giddily throwing the blankets off and rushing over to my dresser. I pulled out the only nice dress I owned, the one Taylor had bought me at the mall.

As the supple fabric slid over my curves, I smoothed out any wayward wrinkles and turned to look at myself in the mirror. My hair fell in gently defined waves, cascading down my shoulders and pooling just below my collarbone. It was healthy, shimmering in the early morning sun streaming through the windows. 

My eyes were sparkling in excitement, the dark bags that had hung around them were little more then a whisper now. My body was fuller, the rolls that I'd once tried so desperately to shrink and starve away were like old friends to me now. Stretch marks were no longer my enemy, I welcomed the silvery-pink lines that embraced my bust and lower stomach.

The scars that adorned my hips, wrists and the tops of my breasts were slowly fading. The pink, puckered scars slowly changing to a soft pink. Some of the shallower ones were even turning white. As I tugged the lace sleeves down, I felt a sense of pride. It'd been months since I'd taken the blade to my skin.

I quickly threw on some mascara and eyeliner. I wanted to look a little nicer than usual for today. It was the first real Christmas I'd spent with the family since I'd moved in with them. As I finished lining my eyes with the worn-down pencil eyeliner, I heard my phone vibrate next to me.

"Merry Christmas, Princess.🤶💖🤶"

Butterflies danced in my stomach at the text. A wide smile on my lips, I slipped some warm tights under my dress and admired my outfit in the mirror for a few more moments before quietly padding into the living room. 

I expected everyone to still be sleeping, but it seemed like the Wooding siblings were just as excited as I was. Soft Christmas carols were echoing from the tv, the smell of breakfast greeting me as the hallway opened up into the rest of the house.

Kris was sat at the table, enjoying a lukewarm cup of instant coffee, Matt sitting next to her, nibbling on a burnt piece of toast. Dylan was standing at the stove with a santa hat on, feebly attempting to scramble some eggs. The bright red of the festive hat clashed with his ginger ringlets, but it made me smile.

I slid into one of the rickety barstools, Kris turning to smile at me. "Merry Christmas, Luna."

"Merry Christmas, Kris!" I beamed. 

Matt chuckled. "You definitely seem excited this morning." He teased between bites of toast, his gravelly voice muffled. His chocolate hair was mussed like he'd just rolled out of bed, little tufts of wayward hair sticking up at odd angles.

I nodded, unable to contain my giddiness. "This is the first Christmas I've spent with y'all since you moved away. I can't help but be excited." I admitted. It might be a little silly, but I was happy to have a Christmas that wasn't interrupted by stuffy church concerts or a Nativity play.

Matt leaned back in his barstool, nostalgia swirling in his eyes. "Do you remember the year your mom got us all matching sweaters?" His playful smile turned into a grimace at the memory.

Kris shuttered and out of the corner of my eye I could see Dylan make a face of disgust from the stove. "I do!" Kris groaned around a mouthful of coffee. 

I giggled. The sweaters had been red and green, with little embroidered reindeers, snowmen and snowflakes. They were, objectively, the ugliest sweaters any of us had ever seen. And the itchiest! My mother had found them on clearance, which we quickly found was for good reason.

"They must have been made out of wool and sandpaper. I'd pull mine off the second we were out of your mom's line of sight!" Dylan pulled at his turtleneck as if it was suffocating him, phantom itches nipping at his neck.

"They were pretty warm though." I defended. I hated those stupid sweaters too, but they were some warmth against the occasional cold winter day in the south. Plus, they had reminded me of my friends and the bond we shared. I still had mine, buried in the bottom of one of my drawers. It hadn't fit for years, but my sentimental side wouldn't let me get rid of it.

Matt gestured to our hand-me-down tree in the corner of the room. "Do y'all remember when Dylan and I knocked the tree over and shattered your mom's angel ornament? When I got home, I thought I was going to be grounded forever!" 

Dylan rolled his eyes. "You mean when YOU knocked the tree over? I was just minding my business, trying to play with my Legos." He punctuated his statement by leaning against the counter casually, putting his hand on his hip and pointing his egg-coated spatula at his older brother.

Matt feigned offense, crossing his arms. "I would NEVER shift the blame onto my little brother." He pointed his chin as if to punctuate his sentence, playfully hoisting his nose high in the air.

Kris snorted. "Oh sure, like you didn't try to frame him one year for stealing some of Mrs. Samuels' turkey before Christmas dinner?" She stuck her finger in his chest accusingly, but she was fighting to keep a straight face.

Matt threw up his hands in defense. "I did no such thing!" He threw an arm over his face dramatically, slumping over in his chair.

Kris gave him a deadpan stare. "Dylan wasn't even two yet. He couldn't even reach the counter." She said, flatly. Whilst Dylan had been a rather tall toddler, he wasn't tall enough to reach my mother's countertop until he was just shy of four years old.

Dylan plated his overcooked eggs and came to sit beside me, across from his older siblings. "If I had a nickel for every time Matt blamed me for something he did..." He muttered between forkfuls of the questionable yellow substance.

Matt shrugged. "It's not my fault. You were so gullible!" A withering glare from Kris made him subtly scoot the butter knife across the table towards me, away from the fiery woman. A snicker escaped my lips and Kris turned her patented death glare on me. I threw my hands up in mock defense, not wanting to run afoul of the older girl.

We fell into a comfortable lull, the soft introduction to another classic Christmas carol the only sound in our aging trailer, aside from the clinking of silverware and a slow drip from the sink. After we'd finished our meagre breakfast, we prepared to gather around the Christmas tree. We'd pulled one of the barstools over so Kris didn't have to get up off the floor.  No sooner had Kris settled into her seat did a long groan from the kitchen cut through the otherwise picturesque morning.

I turned to see Matt crouching, peering into the cabinet under the sink, his face scrunched in disgust. "Y'all might want to come take a look at this."

I walked across the chilly laminate to stand behind him. He pointed his flashlight to the back of the cabinet and I gasped.

Apparently, we'd had a leak under the sink for a considerable amount of time. The pressboard cabinet was warped, slick with the grimy remnants of spoiled sink water. The wet, musty stink of mildew greeted us as we stared in disbelief. Most of the contents of the cabinet were unharmed, countless bottles of various cleaning chemicals sprinkled with a dusty coating of mold. Unfortunately, the floor of the cabinet and part of the drywall would need replacing.

I pulled my phone out and took a picture. I moved out of the way so Dylan could hand Matt his toolbelt, I decided to shoot a quick text to Taylor.

Image from Luna Samuels

"This is how my Christmas is going so far 😒"

My phone vibrated near instantly

"Do you need help? I know a masc, fix-it lesbian who really likes you. She might help you, for a price."

I snorted, accidentally catching the attention of Matt. He gave me a sullen look as he tinkered with the sluggishly leaking sink.

"What's got you so amused?" He grumbled, annoyed by my inappropriate amusement.

Anxiety crept into the back of my throat. Kris and Matt didn't like Taylor at the best of times, but I hoped her offering to assist with the arduous process of replacing the moldy wood and drywall would improve their thoughts of her. "Um.. Taylor wants to know if we'd like help fixing the sink and the cabinet."

Matt's forehead creased in surprise, a mix of emotions playing across his face. I glanced over to Kris, still seated on her barstool, conflicting thoughts dancing in her chocolate eyes. She was the first to offer a hesitant response, a frown marring her delicate lips as she locked eyes with Matt. "I don't have a problem with it."

Matt nodded, accepting her answer. "Me either." His tone was flat, but his face showed his distaste at the offer. However, Dylan was nearly as bad at plumbing as he was at cooking, so we couldn't exactly refuse any help at this point if we hoped to open presents before dark.

I hid the giddy smile as my fingers flew across the keyboard of my phone. 

"We'd love some help."

---

It wasn't long before I could hear the soft whine of Taylor's Camry rolling up the drive. Matt was still deep in combat with our stubborn sink, trying to make the temperamental metal quit leaking. I held the flashlight on his phone while he worked, while Dylan retrieved parts from Matt's work toolbox. 

I looked up as Dylan walked to the door to let Taylor inside. 

As the door swung open, I could see she was dressed in a loose black t-shirt layered under a red button up, ripped black jeans and a pair of beat-up converse. In her hand held a shopping bag of a local home supply store, presumably with parts for the sink.

My knight in buffalo plaid carefully made her way through the countless scattered tools and bottles of cleaner to kneel beside me, peering into the cabinet. Her nose wrinkled when the scent of rotting wood hit her. 

"Lovely." She groaned.

Matt gave her a blank look. "You gonna look, or you gonna help? The gasket is probably as old as I am and I need help getting it off. Switch places with Luna and let's see if we can convince the rubber bastard to come off." His tone left no room for argument and Taylor quickly jumped in to help.

I scooted out of Taylor's way and let the bluenette brush past me, ignoring the butterflies that sprung to life in my stomach at her touch. Digging into the plastic bag, she retrieved various metal parts and showed them to Matt. He looked at her in disbelief. "How did you get the parts? It's Christmas Day!"

Taylor smirked, holding up the plastic bag for him to read. "Harrison Home Supply?" Matt looked at her for a long while, processing the information. "Oh. Right. I didn't know you were related." With that, he turned back to the sink and swore as the wrench slipped off the slick metal once again.

If Taylor noticed his hostility, she brushed it off, scooting herself closer to reach into the wreckage of the moldy sink. "My Grandpa and uncle run the store. I help him close up sometimes, so I have a spare key."

"Thank you." Matt tried to hold onto his grumpy tone, but I could see the corner of his mouth turning up. 

There was strain in Taylor's melodious voice as they struggled to pry the pipe free from the gasket. "It's been leaking for a while. You're gonna need to replace the drywall and the wood."

Matt grunted with effort. "Yeah, I know. I think I have some spare plywood in the shed. The drywall will have to wait till I get paid."

Taylor leaned up from the cabinet to shoot me a playful smirk. "Well, there might be a sale for pretty ladies the next time I have to run the shop for a day."

I flushed, my cheeks reddening as Dylan turned away, snickering behind his hand at the exchange. Kris silently mimed gagging at our ridiculous exchange.

After many curse words and some elbow grease, the offending pipe and gasket were finally removed. Taylor carefully held a bucket under the pipe to catch any remaining water residing in the sink before the water supply was turned off.

Matt and Taylor worked surprisingly well together. Taylor would retrieve a part from the bag, hand it to Matt and help walk him through the more tedious parts of the repair. What she lacked in brute strength, she made up for with her dexterity, able to move her delicate hands around the twisting pipes at angles Matt's bulkier frame couldn't reach.

 They fell into a routine, repairing the sink in only a half hour. Taylor sat up, holding out the rubber gasket that had caused us so much trouble. It was nearly crumbling away with age. My face twisted in disgust at the slimy rubber, taking it from Taylor to throw in the trash.

Matt stood up, offering a hand to lift Taylor onto her feet. He gave her a small smile and the room erupted into halfhearted cheers from Kris and Dylan.

The sink was fixed, now they had to replace the water-damaged wood. The two of them walked out the front door, talking about their victory over the sink, our aging screen door wailing in protest as they exited the porch.

As silence fell over the house, I looked over at Kris, a strange expression on her face. 

"You okay, Kris?"

The injured redhead nodded, looking at the floor for a long time before meeting my gaze. "I just think I might have misjudged Taylor." 

I tried to contain my shock, choosing to take a seat on the couch across from Kris. "How so?"

She finished her last swallow of cold coffee before replying. "I think she really does care about you. Why else would she drop everything to come help us with the sink?" She ran a hand through her hair. "I keep trying to think of some ulterior motive, some reason that makes sense."

I phrased my words carefully. I knew Kris was only being protective out of love for me. I couldn't blame her for being standoffish towards the bluenette. One of her close friends had been burned by Taylor, and while I could understand Kaycee's anger at Taylor, I couldn't help but feel as if Kaycee was partially responsible for the breakup.  

Several rebuttals welled up in my throat, but instead I shook my head. "She doesn't have an ulterior motive, Kris. She's just as damaged as I am, just in different ways. I like her a lot."

Kris gave me a small smile and opened her mouth to reply, but Taylor and Matt burst through the door with a cut piece of plywood and a saw to cut out the rotten wood. The unlikely duo resumed their project, Taylor holding the saw steady as Matt held the light. A screeching wail echoed through the house as the saw tore through the decrepit wood.

Taylor held up the chunk of molded pressboard triumphantly, sending me a confident smirk before tossing the rotten subflooring into a garbage bag held by Dylan.

I flushed, my cheeks reddening as I noticed Kris' gradually increasing amusement at our interactions. I knew as soon as Taylor left, I would be mercilessly teased.

Matt helped Taylor move the new plywood into place with a triumphant grunt. Taylor wiped her forehead, moving the sweaty curls stuck to her forehead. Matt stapled the new plywood into place as Taylor collected shelf liner from our cabinets to repurpose as a cover for the unfinished wood. 

Finally, the sink was repaired successfully. There was a smattering of sarcastic applause as Matt and Taylor took an obnoxious bow.

Matt helped Taylor tidy the mess as Dylan put the bottles of cleaning supplies back under the sink.

Taylor came into the living room, taking a seat next to me on the faded blue couch. She gave me a winning smile, my stomach doing little flips as I felt the warmth from her body next to my own. Heat creeped up my neck, Kris observing my flustered reaction with a raised brow.

Yep, definitely getting teased later.

Matt and Dylan approached the living room, Matt clapping his hands together with a sense of finality. "Well, now that we have adverted a crisis, shall we open presents?"

Kris nodded. "I think that is a brilliant idea." She rose from her seat, slowly hobbling over to the living room to perch on the barstool that had been placed next to the tree.

I felt Taylor shift next to me, discomfort flashing across her sharp features. The camaraderie that permeated the room a few minutes ago was gone and I could feel the awkward tension rising again. "I think I should go. I don't want to interrupt."

To my surprise, it was Kris that objected. "Taylor, you have singlehandedly saved our holiday. We really didn't have the money to fix the sink right now and without you it would have cost us a lot more to fix it. I think you should stay."

Taylor and I exchanged twin glances of disbelief. It was no secret that Kris didn't like Taylor at the best of times. To invite her to stay on Christmas was shocking to say the least.

Taylor's mouth twisted from open-mouthed shock into a tentative smile, her hazel eyes twinkling in time with our secondhand Christmas lights. "I'd love to, if that's okay with everyone else." 

I looked over at Matt, who seemed conflicted for a moment before offering her a small grin. "I can't exactly throw out the lady who just saved me a fuckton of work now can I?"

"It's settled then!" Kris clapped her hands together, catching our attention. "Can we get onto the presents now? I've been itching to see what Luna got us." Her impatience caused us to snicker, Matt snorting at the impatient ginger.

I glanced at Taylor with a sheepish grimace. "I wish I'd known you were coming, I would have gotten you something."

Taylor chuckled, toying with a stray blue ringlet escaping from her beanie. "You weren't exactly expecting company. Plus, money's tight for everyone right now." With the approval of Matt and Kris, Taylor seemed to relax a little, tentatively putting an arm around me. 

I glanced around the room, waiting for an objection to the gesture, but none came. After a moment, I released a breath I didn't know I was holding and slowly leaned into Taylor's embrace.

Dylan sat under the tree, passing out the various small gifts I'd been able to purchase from the dollar store. His eyes caught mine for a split second and he gave me a reassuring smile, passing the first hastily-wrapped gift to Kris. 

For Kris, I'd gotten her a new pair of headphones to replace the ones lost in the wreck. She squealed in delight as she pulled off the patchwork wrapping paper and revealed her gift. "Thank you! I've been needing a new pair of these!"

I watched as the ginger woman worked on tearing into the packaging to retrieve her prize, pulling the cobalt-blue headphones out of the clamshell plastic packaging and situating her gift atop her mass of curls. Surprisingly, they fit perfectly.

Dylan tore into his present like a man possessed, revealing a racing game. It was in the bargain bin, but Dylan had been wanting it for years. His lips parted in a goofy grin and he smiled brightly at me. "Grand Racing Prix 2012!? I've wanted this since it came out!" He jumped up to put the cd in his console, but a scolding from Kris made him remain seated, albeit pouting.

I held my breath as Matt delicately unwrapped his two presents. He'd been the hardest to shop for by far, and I hoped he'd appreciate my small token of appreciation. Unlike his siblings, he meticulously unwrapped his gift, pulling the tape off slowly as to not tear the flimsy wrapping paper. 

He held up the pack of socks with trembling hands and a small smile. I'd noticed his work socks were wearing thin and more often then not had gaping holes in them. "Thank you, Luna." His eyes caught mine and I could see the depth of his emotions, swirling beneath his eyes. Matt often went without to provide for us and this would make him a little more comfortable at work.

He pulled the second present out of its paper and beamed. It was a new multi-tool screwdriver and the accompanying bits.  His old screwdriver was well-used and the handle was coming apart, well past time for a new one. I hoped this one would be a bit more useful with the extra attachments, plus a bit more comfortable to hold. 

Matt stood and walked over to me, pulling me into an awkward, hunched-over hug. I could feel the moisture from his eyes on the lace of my dress as he hugged me tight. "Thank you."

As he pulled away, he sloppily wiped his tears away before disappearing into Kris' bedroom. He came out, brandishing a small box meticulously wrapped in wrinkled, shimmering paper. He handed me the box and I noticed all the Wooding siblings watching me expectantly.

I carefully unwrapped the box and found a small crescent-shaped moon pendant staring back at me. It was stainless steel and gleaming in the dappled glow of the Christmas lights. Beneath the pendant, the box was inscribed with a message in a beautiful purple cursive.

Love begins with family,
Whether forged in blood,
Or chosen to be.

Underneath the words, Matt had written his own message with a permanent marker. A lump grew in my throat as I tried in vain to swallow it. Taylor's delicate hand rubbed my shoulder reassuringly, the arm wrapped around me tightening in a half-hug.

Luna, we're so happy to have you as part of our family.
Love,
The Woodings

Tears rushed to my eyes before I could stop them, brimming up in my eyes and rolling down my cheeks.

I could feel Taylor's reassuring hand stroking my back and gentle words of encouragement from the Wooding siblings.

My family. 

As I looked around the room, I could see I wasn't the only one with misty eyes. Kris was subtly dabbing the corners of her eyes with her sleeve, Dylan was openly sobbing while Matt rolled his teary eyes. Even Taylor gave me a watery smile.

We weren't made up of blood-related people that plastered on fake smiles for social media posts. Our love wasn't conditional on religion, sexuality, or appearance. We were 4 battered, broken people who found solace in one another.

And that was good enough for me.

The End (For Now.)