“At the beginning of the month I wrote a letter to Santa—I know, childish—but I needed something to hope for, even if it felt silly.” He smiled and shifted to sit by my side, winding his arm around my wait. “Wishing and hoping is never silly, Harper,” he whispered, nipping my jaw. I leaned into his hold and twined our fingers. “I had two things on it: you, and to be accepted.” I stared at the black ink marking my letter in my messy handwriting. He pressed his forehead against my temple. “You were on mine too, only, I didn’t send it to Santa.”
Book:Christmas Wishes