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The house was surrounded by the rich woods that made up most of the area. There was also a considerable garden to one side of the house, and Dean would swear it had gotten bigger since the last time he’d seen it.

“What’d you manage to grow?” Dean asked as they stepped out of the SUV.

Ana beamed at him. “A whole host of things. Enough to feed us for weeks.”

“Mom,” Sloane began, frowning at her.

She waved him off. “I do it because it’s fun and good for us, and if it happens to cut down on the grocery bills, then so be it. I’m not having this discussion with you. It’s Christmas.”

“Yeah, Sloane,” Dean said, elbowing him. “It’s Christmas.”

Sloane looked like he was going to argue but then glared at Dean. “You’re supposed to be on my side.”

Dean grinned. “Maybe you can buy my support later.”

“Gross,” Shawna proclaimed loudly behind him as she bounced past.

“Oh,” Dean muttered. “Forgot she was back there.”

“Easy to forget when she’s not talking,” Sloane said. “Though congrats on scarring my sister. Now we’ll never hear the end of it.”

“Something tells me she’ll find something else to go on about if you give her a chance,” Dean mused.

“Probably,” Sloane grunted, slipping an arm around Dean’s waist as they walked to the house.

Dean chuckled. “Pretend all you want, but we both know you missed them.”

“I did, and then I saw them again.”

Dean wasn’t fooled for a second but would allow his boyfriend to pretend for as long as he thought necessary. Which, for Sloane, would probably be the entire time he was back home.

Yet, despite all his bitching and growling, Dean sensed something calmer about Sloane as they approached the house. There was no denying that his sisters drove him crazy, and his mother could be just as difficult. But Sloane had forgone a lot over the years to ensure they had the life he believed they should have. His income wasn’t much, and what was left over for him was even less after years of sending it home.

Sloane never complained about it, though, and in fact, insisted on trying to do more. Stubbornness ran in the family, and Dean suspected the gene came directly from Ana. Dean regarded her as the only person who could butt heads with Sloane and come out the victor. He suspected the only reason she’d accepted the money was so her daughters would be takencare of when they finally moved out. He was sure she and Sloane would have another argument on their hands.

They stepped through the front door, stopping just in time to miss being bowled over by Shawna. The teen was darting about the house, rambling about lights and baubles, though Dean didn’t try to keep up with her.

Sloane stared at the rooms and the stairs leading to the second floor. “It’s nice to know Mom hasn’t altered her decorating style. It looks like Christmas threw up in here.”

Dean rolled his eyes, giving Sloane a light push. “Don’t be rude.”

Maybe itwasa little excessive, but Dean wouldn’t blame Ana. It was the first Christmas she’d had Sloane over in years. There always seemed to be some reason or another he was denied leave and had to stay at the base or wherever he was stationed. Now she had Sloane and Dean, the boyfriend, so he was sure that was part of the motivation.

And if the tree in the living room was practically obscured by all the ornaments and tinsel. If the hallway was lit by the strings of lights fastened around its walls, and if the tinkling of Christmas music from the little ceramic town set up in the dining room was a little annoying, well, Dean thought it was sweet.

“Why don’t you go see if your mom needs help? I’ll put our stuff away,” Dean told him.

“Help?” Sloane asked, glancing around.

Dean pointed toward the kitchen, where the sounds of pots and pans could be heard. “Help.”

Sloane grinned, kissing the corner of Dean’s mouth. “Yessir.”

Dean watched him go, smiling when he heard Sloane unconsciously hum the song coming from the fake village. Once Sloane was out of sight, Dean walked past the stairs and down the hallway. There sat three doors, one to the backyard, one tothe bathroom, and the last to the guest room. It was supposedly where he should have slept when he’d been there the previous Easter, but Dean had bunked with Sloane instead.

Of course, he was doing the same thing this year, but not as a friend, as something so much more. It was the least decorated room in the house, equipped with a queen-sized bed, a dresser, a soft armchair in one corner, and a lengthwise mirror against the wall.

Dean smiled as he set their bags on the bed, listening to the sounds of the house. He could hear things being shifted in the kitchen, and somewhere, Shawna was calling to Diana for something, though Dean couldn’t hear exactly what. Ana’s voice drifted out, soft but strong, and whatever it was, it made Sloane laugh, that low throaty rumble he did only when he was genuinely pleased.