Heartbroken (A Christmas Story) 11

We were all downstairs again, family dinner, the big table crammed with food, laughter bouncing off the walls.

Mom had gone all out, roast chicken, mashed potatoes, cranberry sauce, the works.

Dad was telling some old story about the time he and Mom got stuck in a snowstorm on their honeymoon. Finn and my little brother were fighting over the last dinner roll.

The Christmas lights twinkled above us, and the fire crackled in the background. It should have felt normal. Safe.

But Ava was sitting right beside me.

Under the table, her hand had found my thigh the moment we sat down. She’d started slowly, just light strokes over my leggings, innocent enough that no one would notice.

But now her fingers were inching higher, sliding under the waistband, dipping inside.

I tried to focus on the food. On Dad’s story. On anything but the heat building between my legs.

She pulled my top up just enough, slowly, carefully so her hand could slip under