It was the beginning of December now, and the unusually cold autumn was followed by unusually early winter snowfalls. On Friday Sophia woke to two things outside her window: a fresh mantle of white, still flaking down, and the yellow beam of her porchlight illuminating that scene. Confused, she slipped a winter jacket over her pajamas and stepped outside, hands clamped under her arms for warmth.

"What the hell are you doing?"

After the fiasco of her black eye the previous morning, she'd never gotten around to asking Shane what he'd been there for – now, for the second day in a row, he was standing outside her house before the sun was even up. Snowflakes were caught in his dark hair and his hands were bright red from the cold, sifting through a stack of papers. Marnie's pick-up truck was parked beside him, its bed stacked with two-by-fours and giant rolls of chicken wire, and there was an open toolbox at his feet.

He didn't look up from the papers, though his face colored slightly. "Building your rabbit hutch," he said, as plainly as if he were making her a cup of coffee.

"You – what?" She stared in disbelief.

He glanced up. "Don't tell me you changed your damned mind."

"I didn't, but…what? It's the start of winter. It's snowing right now…Shane, you're building me a rabbit hutch?"

Grabbing several boards out of the truck bed, he mumbled something indecipherable. Sophia walked down the porch and hopped on the open tailgate. "Huh?"

"Wintersday," he muttered. "Needs to be done."

Her eyes softened. "You're making me a rabbit hutch for Wintersday?"

"Look, I know you want Annabel but I can't get her this year. We don't even have the stable ready…did you know horses cost a metric fuck-ton to house each year?"

Sophia blinked. "I've only been teasing about that. I'd never ask you for an actual horse…"

"Yeah, you're not teasing. You want one."

"Well maybe I do, but shit…you're building me a rabbit hutch? I had no idea you could do something like that." She could feel the brightness in her own eyes; she leaned deeply to one side and in a sultry voice asked, "And how do you feel about repairing fences?"

"Next Wintersday. This thing'll probably take me till then anyway."

"I – hang on, don't you have to work today?"

"Switched with Sam earlier in the week."

He'd really been planning this.

"I'm amazed," she said. "I'm completely amazed."

"Just wait till it's done before you get too excited. I'll probably forget to put in the floor or something."

Glancing around at the boards in the truck bed, she couldn't help it: she closed her eyes and squealed. "I'll leave you to it," she said, bouncing off the hitch, then grabbing his face in both hands and pulling him in for a deep, happy kiss. "You're wonderful, and I think this whole thing is super sexy, and when I go inside I'm going to make myself some coffee and put my feet up and watch you work."

He sighed. "Of course you fucking would."

"Relax," she said, for what felt like the thirtieth time as her knuckles dug rhythmically into his shoulders. "Just watch the damn movie."

It was later that night; Shane had spent the whole day working on the hutch, then went home at suppertime and returned to the farm after Jas was in bed. They'd just showered and gotten settled on the sofa together, Sophia flipping through the channels, when they'd run across some G-rated gridball movie from Shane's childhood and he'd momentarily forgotten himself – enough to give an excited, "Oh, shit! I haven't seen this in fifteen years" – at which she insisted, of course, that they watch it. She also insisted on giving him a backrub, which he continued to grumble at.

"I give you a black eye and you give me a fucking massage."

"That's how we work," she teased. "You think I'd've asked you to dance in the spring if you hadn't given me that death glare in Marnie's kitchen first?"

"Makes me sound abusive."

"Well, you can fuck right off with that noise." It was only after the words were out that she realized they sounded angry. "Sorry," she whispered. "Just…don't joke. I've been there, and you're the furthest thing from it."

A long pause. "How does your eye feel right now?"

"It's fine, I promise. Now relax."

They'd made enormous progress in his level of comfort when showing his body – it'd been almost a month since he asked to turn off the lights before they were intimate. Sophia was so happy that he was willing to shower with her now, or agree to take off his shirt in a brightly lit room when she insisted on giving him a massage. Right now he lay on his stomach while she straddled his back, kneading her knuckles into his shoulder, digging deep into the muscle below the softness.

"Like something?" she asked, bending over his ear after he let out a sigh.

"Just, why are you fucking good at this too?"

"Is that a problem?"

"You're good at everything. It's sickening."

"Have you forgotten my cooking?"

He grumbled again, trying to move, and Sophia lifted her hips just enough for him to roll on his back underneath her. Once she'd settled onto his stomach, he slid his hands up her shirt.

"Nope," she said, tucking backward with a smile. "This is your massage, not mine."

But it wasn't just a massage. It wasn't just Shane growing more and more comfortable with her.

It was happiness; happiness that burned through her chest and down her arms, right into the fingertips touching his skin. It was pure, like the happiness of childhood – but with the profundity of experiencing it as an adult. It was contentment, like the happiness of having her best friend at her side once more – but such a different kind of contentment than being with Amy.

It was intense. With Shane, everything was so intense.

Love came with a honeymoon stage, of course, and logically Sophia knew she was there – had cliff-dived right into it, swimming in waters far above her head. But the idea that such a feeling was a mere stage, and that it could ever fade in intensity? Not only did that seem impossible, but asinine. As she gripped his upper arms over and over, massaging the body that had so quickly come to feel like home, their eyes met, her heart pounded, and she couldn't stop her next thought.

If you asked me to marry you right now, I'd say yes.

Oh.

Oh, fuck.

She'd tried so hard to be careful with Shane, to take things slow and let them unfold naturally. For awhile, they had. But sitting on his lap now – with thoughts she had no right to be thinking this early in the relationship – she realized she was still the same person. A person whose first kiss was with her crush at the tenth grade dance, and whose first time having sex wasn't two hours later. One who'd roped herself into three years of hell because she'd moved in with a guy after knowing him for only a week. And love? That word she'd tossed around so cavalierly – to that high school boyfriend, mistaking her clinginess after sex for something more; to Rick, saying it for years while secretly hating him.

But this was different. Without a doubt in her mind, Shane was different. If she said it now it wouldn't be cavalier, because she'd never been so certain of something in her life. The length of their relationship was of no importance whatsoever. Something as real as this just existed, a truth in all timelines.

He might even be okay with the words. Maybe he wouldn't say them back, but it was unlikely he'd bolt from her house. If she told him the full truth, though? The potency of what she felt, and how despite her ferocious need to be independent outside of their relationship, within it she felt an equally ferocious need to be near him – would he be okay with that level of need? Because lately he could never be close enough. She'd never get her fill; he was an obsession that made it impossible to concentrate on anything or anyone else.

Sophia knew herself, and didn't trust herself to speak. If that floodgate was opened, there'd be no stopping it, and what was supposed to be a simple "I love you," would turn into a proposal that would make Shane bolt all the way back to Zuzu City.

Instead she kept quiet and laid down on him, sliding her hand to his groin. His pajamas were thin and his body hot there, and she stroked him through the fabric. It'd been a long time since he had anxiety about being with her. He started to fill, pulsing several times against her palm.

She finally had it. Whether he loved her or not, Shane relaxed with her when he didn't with anyone else. He was still stubborn and private and seldom opened up, but on the rare occasions he did, it was only Sophia he allowed in. And all those months ago at her fire, when she'd embarrassingly confessed that she wanted to be special, the exception, the one person he wouldn't push away—

She finally had it.

"I love this," she whispered, hooking her fingers into his waistband and sliding down his pants. Usually she enjoyed teasing more, but tonight just needed him close. Taking him in her mouth she savored it, tongue swirling lovingly, not trying to get him anywhere fast. He was in no rush either, watching with that calmness she'd grown to love – that sort of contentedness she'd never seen in him until they were dating. He lay with his back against the pillows, one hand behind his head, the other softly stroking her hair as she sucked.

"Sophia?"

"Mmm?"

His voice was quiet, but serious. "Hey."

She took him out of her mouth, resting her head on his thigh. "What?"

"When do I get to do this?"

That was not what she expected. One hand returned to his cock, lightly playing, and she didn't answer.

It was true she hadn't let him. She'd never explicitly said no, but every time his head went too low, every time he kissed too far into her thighs, she always repositioned herself or distracted him with other touches. Sometimes she got up, pretending to have to pee.

She'd tried so damn hard not to let Rick have any power over her anymore – once she'd finally gone through with it, she was proud of how quick and clean the break was. And for months after, any time his voice came creeping back in she threw every ounce of her contempt at it before it could work its sick magic. Toxic or not, Sophia embraced the hatred – hating him kept her sane, and kept her from blaming herself for all the fucked up things he'd done. But there were still triggers. Being told what to do, for one.

Oral sex for another.

Oh, naturally she'd done it for him, and not just in her goddamn cubicle that first day he kissed her. He wanted it most days, practically demanding it, and when Sophia didn't comply he turned so nasty and immature that she'd end up giving in anyway. God, she'd been a doormat – giving in to spare herself from his fucking tantrums; it was a wonder he hadn't spoiled it for her permanently.

Receiving was different. He'd put off reciprocating for months, always with some excuse. The one and only time he'd done it, he'd barely been at it for a minute before stopping to say, "God, do you not wash properly? I feel sick. Finish it yourself." Then he'd given her pussy a smack and left her on the bed, naked and humiliated, trying not to cry as she listened to him gargle mouthwash in the other room.

In hindsight, she didn't know what she'd expected. He wouldn't even kiss her after she'd gone down on him. As if he always tasted fucking divine himself…

She blinked, back to reality, back to laying on Shane's thigh as his hand brushed lightly through her hair. When she looked at him again, his face was bright red.

"It's okay if you don't like it or something. But you haven't said anything – you don't really let me near…"

This wasn't about Rick taking something from her. It was about him taking something from them, from their relationship, and Shane…he wanted this. But the thought still made her sick. He'd never say such hurtful things as Rick but that didn't mean he wouldn't think them; she couldn't handle the thought of disgusting him, of him not wanting to hurt her feelings and pushing through it while secretly being repulsed…

She scooted up to lay on him again. Then, tentatively, she kissed him, with the lips that had just been around his cock.

He kissed back, no hesitation.

"Is that a yes?"

She buried her face in his neck, for a moment wanting to cry.

"Let's just finish the movie," she murmured at last.

After Shane left on Saturday morning, Sophia prepared for later that day when he'd return with his goddaughter. She chopped down a small pine tree on her property, dragging it inside along with a wagon full of cedar and spruce trimmings. She set up pillows and cushions on the floor for Jas's bed, then prepared the counter with a treat: mugs, marshmallows, and little packets of instant hot chocolate, all beside a plate of cookies. There was even a CD of holiday instrumentals tucked into Grandpa's ornament box, and when snowflakes began to drift down in early afternoon amidst the music, Sophia thought the day couldn't be more perfect.

Still, excited as she was, she was relieved when Shane arrived back at the farmhouse in a good mood – he'd been so hesitant for this to happen, and she'd worried he might be moody again.

"Look at that, kid," he said to Jas, nodding toward the tree in the corner.

Jas kicked off her boots and unzipped her jacket, face aglow. "A tree? Can we decorate it, Sophia?"

"That depends," she said. "Did Uncle Shane bring the thing I asked for?"

Jas looked from Shane to Sophia, then back to Shane. "What thing? Tell me!"

"Yeah, I brought it," he said.

Squinting up at Sophia, Jas said, "What happened to your eye?"

"Just a little accident."

"Does it hurt? Are you okay?"

"I'm okay, but thank you very much for asking," said Sophia with a smile, carefully glancing at Shane to see his reaction.

There was none; instead, he grabbed his goddaughter suddenly by the waist, flipping her upside down and carrying her tiny shrieking form into the living room, her dark hair sweeping the floor. Reaching the bed of cushions he flopped her onto the middle of them, where she fell into a fit of giggles. She shrieked again as he began tickling her – which made Amber race over to see the commotion, licking Jas's face, playfully growling and nipping at Shane's arms to get in on the game. Sophia bit the inside of her cheek, watching happily from the side.

"Sophia!" screamed Jas, out of breath and clearly wanting back up.

She laughed. "What, you think I know how to stop him?"

At the sound of Sophia's voice he stop tickling, turning to look at her instead. He stared for a second, shrugged his eyebrows once, then dove. Sophia shrieked too, causing Amber to howl as Shane scooped her by the legs over his shoulder, flipping her onto the cushions next to Jas. Her stomach dropped – the briefest sensation of shooting down a rollercoaster – and as she lay there in surprise Shane flopped next to her, placing a kiss on her lips.

Her eyelids fluttered shut and she kissed him back, and for that moment it all felt new again. At least, until Jas interrupted.

"Ewww."

Sophia's face grew hot under the gentle kiss, but for once Shane didn't seem to care. He just leaned back on his elbows and grinned.

"Can we decorate the tree now?" Jas asked.

Still on her back, slightly out of breath, Sophia said, "Sure."

While she didn't have any of her own Wintersday decorations yet, Grandpa Emmet had left plenty in the cellar. She opened the boxes, letting Jas dig through them.

"Careful with those." Sophia nodded at the glass deer she'd picked up. "They're older than Uncle Shane."

"I'll be very careful," Jas said solemnly, her face lit with childlike wonder – the kind that only came from delving into a box of treasures that belonged to someone else. The small hands shifted in their hold on the ornament, as if she were holding a delicate butterfly.

They spend the rest of the evening decorating. Shane and Sophia the top half of the tree, Jas the bottom half, and when it was done Sophia said, "I think we're ready for the topper."

"What do you have?" asked Jas. "Aunt Marnie has a star, but Miss Penny put an angel on the school tree."

"Neither. We have a UFO turtle."

Jas burst into giggles. "For the tree?"

Sophia held out her palm, and Shane handed her the lumpy knit turtle she'd asked him to bring over. She slipped a hook through the yarn and, standing on tiptoe, placed it on the very top of the tree. Behind them, Shane flicked off the lights.

"Oooh," said Jas softly, her giggles from the moment before suddenly replaced with reverence. "It's the prettiest tree ever."

Tucking a strand of dark hair behind her ear, Sophia said, "I agree."

They settled in to watch Jas's favorite princess movie after, and toward the end she passed out on the cushions between them, her breath fluttering the hair in front of her face. Shane stood up shortly after, just as a song began to play – one of those sweeping emotional numbers at the end of animated love stories. Sophia thought he was getting up to use the bathroom, but a moment later heard, "Come here," from the kitchen.

It was dim, lit only by the glow of the tree and television from the other room, but she could still see the softness of his expression as he looped his arms around her waist – as he began to slow dance with her, the same as they'd done in the spring.

Well, not entirely the same. Last time there'd been space between their bodies, bashful glances interspersed with long looks at their feet or into the forest. She'd been inexplicably drawn to him, having no idea what was in store. But tonight? Tonight she was in love, hugged right into the warmth of his soft, sturdy body. She glanced up, and he was looking right back down at her.

He'd been in such a great mood all day that the look in his eyes took her by surprise. He looked fucking tired – truly tired, the kind of tired she hadn't seen in months.

A tendril of worry began to wind through her heart. "You okay?"

"Yeah, of course," he said, and as he spoke the tiredness seemed to disappear – Sophia blinked, wondering if she'd imagined it. She turned back to his chest, hugging tighter, and when the song rolled to a close grabbed his hands and gently steered him into the bedroom. Once undressed and in bed, she curled into his side.

"You're so good with her, you know that?" she whispered.

Shane paused. "Don't say that."

"Why not? It's the truth."

"Just don't."

With those two words, his voice tensed, and the air in the room changed.

"God forbid you give yourself some credit." Sophia sighed, taking his hand and drawing on his fingers with her own. "I didn't say it to ruin your night, you know."

"I know."

"Just – my own personal opinion aside, straight up facts? That little girl adores you."

"Hmm."

"It's the truth." Then she hesitated. "Can I ask you a question?"

"You're going to anyway."

"Why don't you like to talk about her? Things are going really well, for both of you."

She peered at him earnestly, but he only stared at the ceiling, giving a noncommittal shrug against the sheets. Then he rolled on his side, facing her and saying, "Hey, what about right now?"

"Right now?" She scrunched her eyebrows. "What, you do want to talk about her?"

"Not talk," he said, closing in to kiss her. "Forget that stuff." Then his hand found her waist, gliding around its curve and slipping into her pants.

"Shane…"

He began to finger her gently, kissing her neck, pausing only to whisper, "Can I?"

It was perhaps the most obvious attempt to change the subject she'd ever seen – and one that switched from his discomfort to hers. She closed her eyes and he kissed down her throat.

"I want to let you," she said quietly.

"So let me."

She'd showered not long before his arrival, but suddenly it didn't feel like nearly enough. Her voice dropped quieter. "I don't – I don't want you to be grossed out."

He stopped what he was doing, clearing his throat. "Oh, um… did you start? I mean, I didn't feel anything…"

It took her a second to realize he meant her period.

"No." She was surprised – and strangely touched – that it'd been his first thought. "It's just… I don't..." she trailed off, unsure of what to say.

"Don't have to. But like, it doesn't gross me out. I fucking want to."

Heart beating quicker, she buried her face in his neck and blurted, "I have serious hang-ups about this, okay?"

There was a long silence. Shane stiffly rubbed her back, and Sophia's blank mind tried to think of anything that would make this moment less uncomfortable – but then she was interrupted anyway.

"Uncle Shane?!"

Though muffled through the door, the cry was shrill and frantic and Shane burst up instantly. "Be right back," he said, throwing on his shirt and bolting out of the room.

Sophia leaned back on her pillow and took several deep breaths, silently glad for the interruption. Her cell phone was on the dresser and she reached for it – gingerly, as if it might detonate. Once in her hand she opened the lock screen and went into her messages.

Rick had sent her another message a few days ago. She hadn't told Shane about it – not wanting to put him in a bad mood – but she hadn't deleted it either. She was starting to wonder if it might be good to have proof. While the thought that she might need proof one day made her shudder, the message itself made her shudder more:

If there's one thing I've learned in the months since we decided to take a break, it's that this break is the dumbest decision either of us have ever made. You've had your space now, Sophia, you've proved what an independent woman you are – there's no need to keep up this charade. Come see me again, or let me come to you if you prefer. I love you with all my heart and soul. You'll come around, and I'll be waiting.

Reading it the first time, it'd felt like acid being poured over her body. "Since we decided to take a break." The fucking gall, to try his gaslighting bullshit again, even after all these months – as if Sophia hadn't been the one to step out the door, to not care if he rotted. Reading it again now should have been torture, but instead it filled her chest with the most wonderful burning as she shut off the screen and replaced it on the dresser.

"Sorry," said Shane, returning several minutes later. "Had a nightmare, forgot where she was…"

"She's okay now?'

"Yeah, passed out again."

He pulled off his shirt and climbed back into bed. Sophia drew herself right up to his face. Knots twisted in her stomach, but her chest still burned and breathlessly she said, "If you want to, you can."

"I can what?"

"Go down on me."

He blinked. "But a minute ago…"

"Shane, just do it before I change my mind."

He didn't need to be told twice.

She leaned back against the pillows, closing her eyes as he slipped off her pants. The knots were still in her stomach, tight enough to make her queasy, but she focused only on the thought that had driven her to this moment: she loved him. Whether he loved her back or not – at least to the extent she craved – it didn't matter. He cared about her more than any man ever had, and proved it every time they were together. Whatever they had, it was real – infinitely more real than the declarations of the person who claimed to love her heart and soul in that foul message.

Most importantly, she trusted him. She had to. He'd fucking earned it.

Until now she'd been laying there too paranoid to even feel his touch, let alone enjoy it. Now she counted down from five in her head, and at one took a deep breath and opened her eyes. His own eyes were closed, the dark hair that usually fell to one side now falling over his forehead. If she was waiting for any signs of misgiving, there were none – his hands gripped her hips just a little too hard, his stubble grazing her sensitive skin, and his lips never stopped moving. He seemed lost in her.

For a moment she recalled all the times she'd had to tell him to relax, to stop thinking. It was time to take her own advice. Slipping one hand into his hair, threading her fingers between the strands, she took another deep breath and let herself drop open even more.