Wrapped in You

The snow was falling in thick, lazy flakes when I pulled into Mom's driveway, well, Mom and Richard's driveway now. The colonial house looked like something from a Hallmark movie, every window glowing warm against the gray December sky, wreaths on every door, and enough Christmas lights to guide Santa's sleigh from three states away.

Richard really went all out. I had to give him that.

I sat in my car for a moment, engine idling, watching my breath fog the window. Twenty-six years old, a junior associate at a Boston law firm, and I was still nervous about family holidays. But it wasn't Mom or Richard that made my stomach clench. It wasn't even the performative cheer I'd have to maintain for the next four days.

It was her.

Chloe.

My stepsister for the past three years, ever since Mom married Richard when I was twenty-three. We'd only met a handful of times, she was finishing her master's at UCLA while I was grinding through law school on the opposite coast. But those brief encounters had been enough.

Enough to know I was in trouble.

She's your stepsister, Avery. Get it together.

The front door opened, and there was Mom, waving enthusiastically in a red sweater with actual jingle bells sewn into it. I laughed despite myself and killed the engine.

"Avery! You made it!" She pulled me into a crushing hug the moment I stepped out. "The roads weren't too bad? I was worried about that storm system, "

"Roads were fine, Mom. I left early."

"Smart girl. Come in, come in! Everyone's here. Chloe flew in this morning."

My heart stuttered. "Great."

The house smelled like cinnamon and pine, with something roasting in the oven. Richard appeared from the kitchen, wearing an apron that said "Kiss the Cook" and looking genuinely happy to see me. He was a good guy, Richard. Made my mom laugh. That counted for a lot.

"Avery! How's the best lawyer in Massachusetts?"

"Not even close to the best, but thanks for the vote of confidence."

He took my bag, insisted on it, and that's when I heard footsteps on the stairs.

And there she was.

Chloe Chen-Morrison had her father's height and her late mother's delicate features. Her black hair was longer than I remembered, falling past her shoulders in soft waves. She was wearing an oversized cream sweater and leggings, her feet bare, and she looked like she'd just woken up from a nap.

She looked beautiful.

"Hey, stranger."

Her voice did something to me. It always did. Low and warm, with a hint of California sun in it.

"Hey yourself. How was the flight?"

"Long. I sat next to a guy who wanted to explain cryptocurrency to me for five hours."

"My condolences."

She smiled, and I felt it in my chest. "Thanks. I'm still recovering. Dad said we're sharing the guest room again, hope that's okay?"

It was not okay. It was the opposite of okay.

"Sure, no problem."

* * *

The guest room had two twin beds, a shared nightstand, and a window overlooking the backyard where Mom's bird feeders swayed in the wind. I remembered it from last Christmas, lying awake at 2 AM, listening to Chloe's soft breathing, torturing myself with thoughts I had no business thinking.

I unpacked quickly while Chloe sat cross-legged on her bed, scrolling through her phone.

"So how's big law treating you? Still billing eighty hours a week?"

"Only seventy-five now. They're going soft."

She snorted. "That's still insane. Do you ever, like, see sunlight?"

"I have a window in my office. I see it passing by."

"You're going to burn out."

"Probably. What about you? Still saving the planet one research paper at a time?"

Chloe was an environmental scientist. Her passion for marine ecosystems was almost contagious, last Christmas she'd talked for an hour about coral bleaching, and I'd hung on every word. Not because I particularly cared about coral (though I did now, thanks to her), but because the way her face lit up when she talked about something she loved was the most captivating thing I'd ever seen.

"Trying to. Got a grant for a new project studying microplastics in the Pacific. I'll be doing field work in Hawaii for six months starting in March."

"Hawaii. Rough life."

"Someone has to sacrifice."

We smiled at each other, and the moment stretched a beat too long. I looked away first, busying myself with folding a sweater that didn't need folding.

"Avery?"

"Yeah?"

"It's good to see you. I mean... I know we don't really know each other

that well. The whole stepsister thing happened when we were already adults. But I always look forward to these visits. Is that weird to say?"

My hands stilled on the sweater. "No. It's not weird. I look forward to them too."

More than you know. Way more than I should.

* * *

December 23rd

Day one was manageable. Family dinner, Christmas movies, Richard's famous eggnog (which was mostly rum with a splash of dairy). I sat on the opposite end of the couch from Chloe and pretended to care about the romantic subplot in Love Actually.

Day two was harder.

Mom recruited us for cookie decorating, which meant standing side by side at the kitchen counter, our elbows occasionally brushing, passing frosting bags back and forth. Chloe was artistic, her snowflakes looked like actual snowflakes. Mine looked like they'd been through a blender.

"Here," she said, moving to stand behind me. "You're holding the bag wrong."

Her hands covered mine, adjusting my grip on the frosting bag. Her body was warm against my back. I could smell her shampoo, something floral, maybe jasmine.

"See? Gentle pressure, and keep your hand steady..."

She guided my hand in a smooth spiral, and a perfect rosette bloomed on the sugar cookie.

"There. Perfect."

"Thanks," I managed. My voice came out strange, and I saw something flicker in her eyes when she stepped back. Curiosity, maybe. Or recognition.

I excused myself to check on the fireplace, which definitely did not need checking.

* * *

December 23rd - Late Night

I couldn't sleep. The house was quiet, the snow had stopped, and moonlight was streaming through the gap in the curtains. I lay on my back, staring at the ceiling, very aware of Chloe six feet away.

"You awake?"

Her whisper cut through the darkness.

"Yeah. Can't sleep."

"Me neither. Jet lag."

Sheets rustled as she shifted. "Want to do something? I saw a hot tub on the deck."

Every alarm bell in my head went off simultaneously.

"Won't it wake them up?"