I'm the first one awake on Christmas morning. Austin sleeps beside me, face down, hands shoved under the pillow. I watch him for a moment, gently running my fingers down his bare back, tracing old scars. He doesn't wake up. On top of the air mattress on the other side of the room, Pixie sleeps soundly, one arm slung over her stuffed Olaf. The house is still and silent.

As I watch Austin sleeping, I can't help but think about what happened last night, or more accurately what didn't happen. I wish he would let me in. The only way he'll ever be able to heal is if he talks about what happened to him, but he shuts down completely when I mention it. Watching him hurt so much is heartbreaking. I wish I could take his pain away... or at least share it with him so it wouldn't be such a heavy burden to bear alone.

Austin's eyelids flutter open as I walk my fingers up his spine.

"It's Christmas," I whisper with a smile.

Austin sleepily smiles back at me. "I'm surprised Pixie's not awake yet," he mumbles.

I scoot closer to him, and he rolls onto his back so I can rest my head on his chest. His breathing deepens as he drifts off again. I don't want to leave the warmth of the bed, basking in the feeling of his skin against mine. Who knows when he'll be back again. Austin will sleep here for a night or two, then take off without explanation. I'm only his lighthouse.

"Let's put Pixie's presents all around the bed and watch her reaction when she wakes up," I whisper into his ear, waking him from the light sleep he's slipped into.

It takes us a few minutes to tiptoe around and place Pixie's wrapped presents next to her head and then climb back under the covers. A few minutes later when Pixie wakes up, she gasps, eyes wide with wonder and delight.

"Santa was here!" she cries, running a hand over the presents as if to make sure they're real.

"I told you he'd find you," Austin says with a grin, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and walking over to her.

Austin grabs Pixie in a bear hug and tickles her stomach. She giggles as she tries to wriggle out of his arms.

"Merry Christmas, Pixie Princess," Austin says, giving her a big kiss on the cheek.

"Merry Christmas!" Pixie says happily, and as soon as Austin puts her down she runs over to her backpack and brings back a glittery construction paper card with a crookedly drawn Christmas tree on the front.

It says in shaky, mismatched, glitter-glue lumps of letters:"To Austin. I love u. U R the best brother. Pixie."

"Pixie, you wrote this?" Austin gasps, sinking to his knees as he stares at the paper.

"Yep! Blanca helped me make the letters!" Pixie says proudly.

Austin gives her another hug, and when he pulls away his eyes are full of tears that he tries to hide from me. I almost feel like crying myself when he says, "I'm so proud of you! You wrote! You're the smartest kid I know!"

The sweet moment is so emotional and private, I feel weird witnessing it. Pixie doesn't understand what it means to Austin that she can read and write. She's just a kid, proud of her creation.

Pixie looks at me next. "I made one for you too."

My construction paper card has a candy cane on it and says, "To Rory. Merry Christmas. I love u. Pixie."

I bend down to give her a hug and kiss.  "Thank you, sweetie! Do you want to open your presents now?"

"Yeah!" she says happily.

"Which one first?" Austin asks, stealthily rubbing the tears out of his eyes with the back of his hand.

Pixie points to the biggest present, which is the sing-along Elsa doll. She squeals and jumps up and down when she opens it. I have to tell her to be quiet, since I'm scared Dad might hear her. Soon, the floor is littered with wrapping paper, and Pixie is completely fascinated by her new things, especially the doll. She starts singing Let It Go, her little voice overlapping with the toy's pre-recorded song. The look on her face is priceless.

"Wait a minute, there's something else Santa left, right under this pillow," Austin says, taking a small present out from underneath his pillow.

He must have slept on it. I remember how he looked when I woke up, his hands shoved under the pillow. He held onto it all night long.

Austin hands me the present, and I hurriedly open it. Under the snowflake wrapping paper is a rectangular jewelry box with hinges that squeak when I open it. Inside is a beautiful silver necklace with a pointe shoe charm, encrusted with pale pink stones.

"I love it so much!" I gasp, putting it on immediately and running my fingers over the delicate chain.

"It's not much. It's not enough to thank you for everything," Austin mumbles. "Not even close."

"Stop. I love it. That's all that needs to be said. Now, yours." I grin.

"You didn't have to get me something!" Austin exclaims.

The shocked look on his face is adorable. Austin is perhaps the only truly selfless person I know; he's always amazed when others do things for him.

"Of course I know I didn't, but it's sort of for us... for the future. For planning," I say nervously.

I bought Austin an iPad mini a couple of weeks ago. It's not a cellphone, but at least he'll be able to write me emails if he's around a free wifi signal. Then I can know they're okay when he inevitably disappears back onto the streets.

I watch him as he opens it, waiting for his reaction. He just stares at the gift, blinking, as if he's never seen one before.

"It's an iPad..." I offer, trying not to sound condescending.

"I know it's an iPad. Rory... this is way too much," Austin says quietly.

"Stop. It's for us. For finding an apartment, for keeping track of our budget, for helping Pixie with homework, for taking pictures. Plus, you can use it when you go back to school," I say.

Austin looks at me. "You're really serious then? You want to move in with us?"

"Yes!" I exclaim, "I didn't just blurt it out in the moment. Here, let's set this up."

I show him how to turn the iPad on and personalize it. Once that's settled, I show him how to use the camera. Our first picture together is a silly selfie with Pixie squished between us, grinning.

"I don't know how to thank you," Austin says softly, "I've never had anything like this."

I smile. "You've already thanked me. Now you have to set up an email account and email me so I know you guys are safe. I hate it when you disappear."

"Okay," he says, "I promise I will."

"And," I say gingerly, taking the iPad from him. I'm nervous about how he'll react to what I'm going to say next. "There are a few apps that can help you with reading. A lot of them are for little kids, but there's some that are more appropriate for someone older. Here's one for eighth grade. And-"

Austin looks at the app store over my shoulder. "How much?" he asks.

"They're free. All the ones that just say Get are free. All you have to do is download them." I don't tell him I used my own credit card to set up the App Store.

"Wow. This is amazing. Thank you," he says again. "I love you so much, Rory."

I turn and wrap my arms around his neck, pulling him closer so I can rest my forehead against his. "I love you too, baby. Wait, can I call you baby?"

Austin laughs. "You, my beautiful girl, can call me whatever the hell you want."

I know I have to go downstairs now and spend Christmas with Dad and Seth. I hate having to push Austin and Pixie out of the house, but explaining their presence to my father would be too difficult. He would want to know why strangers are sharing Christmas Day with us, where their own family is, how I know them, and on and on and on. It's not like I can tell him the truth.

"We'll be fine," Austin assures me, "I think I'll take Pixie to the movies. The theater's open, and there's gotta be some kids' movie playing right now. Oh, and I plan on making a couple phone calls too."

"Who are you calling?" I ask curiously.

He shrugs. "Just some people."

"Who? Your side bitch?" I joke.

"My side bitches. Plural. Don't insult me," he says playfully.

"You're being secretive. As usual," I say.

"I've just made some decisions." He looks away from me. "About my life."

I'm dying to know what he's talking about, but I know by now not to press him or he'll shut down.

"Nothing bad I hope," I say.

He shrugs. "Hopefully not."

Once I see them out the front door, I head into the living room to open presents with Dad and Seth. All things considered, it's a good Christmas. Seth and I are actually getting along for once, and we spend the long afternoon playing video games while Dad attempts to cook a small Christmas dinner for the three of us.

"You suck at this," Seth laughs at me.

We're playing a racing game, and my car keeps running off the road and crashing into the trees that line both sides of the racetrack.

"Hey, I'm the one with an actual driver's license," I say defensively, "And this is nothing like real driving, so shut the hell up."

Seth shakes his head, then whoops as he zooms past me again. After that we play a shooting game and then a game where you have to create your own world. The latter is the only one I'm actually good at. When Dad calls us to dinner, I realize that Seth and I have hung out for a good three hours and actually gotten along with each other. The thought warms me. Maybe things are looking up.

For someone who's always waiting for the other shoe to drop, good times usually scare me. But for now, just today, I don't let myself think about how fragile happiness is. I just feel it.