(Aspen’s POV)
It was Christmas Eve. The memories of the past years flooded my mind, but they didn’t make me sad today. I felt like I could breathe today.
I stood at the counter, flour on my hands, watching my sisters move around the space like they finally believed it belonged to us again.
“Don’t burn them,” Winter warned, peering into the oven.
“They’re not burning,” I said. “They’re… browning aggressively.”
Holly grinned. “That’s how you like them.”
“That is not how I like them.”
“Yes, it is,” she said confidently. “You always say burned cookies have character.”
“That was one time,” I replied.
She shrugged. “It stuck.”
I was smiling when the knock came.
Winter froze. Holly’s head snapped up.
My stomach dropped before I could stop it.
“I’ll get it,” I said quickly, wiping my
