Chapter Twenty-Six

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Songs for this chapter:
• True Love - Ariana Grande

Chapter Twenty-Six:

Bryce's POV

Emotionally exhausted from all of the goddamn decorating that Blossom made us do today, I take a seat down on the couch as she moves one final ornament around on the garland that we hung up on the railing of the staircase.

Apparently the Christmas tree wasn't enough for her, because as soon as she saw that there were more boxes of other sorts of decorations, she insisted that we put those to use too.

Fuck me for getting all this shit from the attic.

In addition to the Christmas tree, completely decorated with lights and expensive ass ornaments as well as a star on the very top, we hung a garland on the staircase which we decorated with some leftover ornaments. There's a fucking army of nutcrackers in front of the fireplace, small silver reindeer figurines on top of the mantle. White pillows embroidered with snowflakes are littered across the couch, and Blossom is now fiddling with the small silver and gold ornaments in jars on the coffee table in front of me.

We hung a few wreaths up around the house, one on the front door and a couple inside. The other living room isn't as festive as this one, only having a few nutcrackers, reindeer figurines, and these fucking pillows with snowflakes and shit like 'Merry Christmas' stitched onto them.

"Your hot chocolate is going to get cold, darling. Drink up," I tell her, which causes her head to immediately snap around from the jars of ornaments on the table so that she can instead look at me.

Her eyes meet mine and she sighs, complying as she sits down beside me on the sofa. She has to push one of the goddamn Christmas pillows away to make room, and she crosses her legs like a kid as she sits facing me, reaching for her mug of hot chocolate.

She takes a sip of the hot drink, her eyes shutting for a moment in bliss. She looks so serene and peaceful as she stares at me, a gleam in her eye.

"Happy?" I ask her, and she nods furiously as she sets her hot chocolate back down on the coffee table.

"Of course I am. I feel like the luckiest girl alive. Can I have a hug, Bryce?" Blossom replies.

I open my arms for her in response. She crawls into my lap, wrapping her arms and legs around me. It's such a familiar and safe position for us to be in, her curled up in my embrace as she clings to me. I squeeze her back, guiding her head to rest against my shoulder before beginning to stroke her soft hair.

I know that she clearly finds comfort from sitting like this, hence her constant want to be curled up in my lap, but I find it comforting too. I know how closed-off she's become thanks to all the shit people in her life have put her through, and to know that she still trusts me . . . Fuck. It's a good feeling.

Blossom holds onto me firmly, and I allow myself to relax a little bit as I rest my cheek on the top of her head. I lean backwards so that my back is to the armrest of the sofa, glancing down to find Blossom with her eyes shut.

As if she can sense me watching her, she whispers, "I'm sleepy. Can I take a nap?"

She's acting sort of like an adorable damn puppy today: she's been running around all morning and afternoon, decorating this huge ass house for the holidays. She seems to have used up all of her energy as now she's crashed, ready to go to sleep just from having her back scratched a little bit.

"Do you want to go upstairs, baby?" I ask her, to which she shakes her head.

"No. I want to stay right here. With you. Always," she murmurs, nuzzling her face closer towards me.

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