Page 19 of Packed for the Holidays

I haven’t made a gingerbread house since I hit double digits, and if you told me a year ago this was what my pack would be doing on Christmas eve, I would have laughed. Most of my pack mates aren’t artsy. McQuinn is more likely to eat a bag of candythan make something with it. And Oz isn’t the most creative thinker. He’s concrete, which is maybe why he enjoys working with engines and motorcycles.

“I think I got the short end of the stick when it came to picking teams,” I say as half our gingerbread house roof slides off for the third time.

“Hey!” McQuinn punches my arm.

I grab his shirt and tug him into a kiss.

“There are children here,” Meggie yells from the other side of the room.

“I’m not a kid,” Vickie says. “Let the men kiss!”

As I laugh and pull away, I catch Oz looking at us. His cheeks are a little more flushed than normal. He quickly drops his gaze to the gingerbread monstrosity in front of us. One of these days, he’s going to figure out what he wants and own up to it, and then we’re going to have some real fun.

“This is fucked.” McQuinn flicks a piece of licorice that we tried attaching to the roof like gutters. It slinks down to the floor.

“Did Meggie say it had to be a house?” I ask.

“Well, yeah, it’s a gingerbread house competition.” McQuinn takes the stool next to Oz and rolls his eyes.

“Well, she also said to get creative, right?” Without asking permission, I demolish what’s left of the house.

“Hey, what the hell, man?!” McQuinn grumbles. “That part was actually staying up.”

I give him a playful smile and smear a bit of frostingacross his cheek. “I’m getting creative.”

An hour later, I’m actually pretty proud of what we made.

“Alright, now that everyone’s done, you’ll each present your creations.” Meggie’s mom steps up to explain the judging process. She has the same smile as Meggie and it makes me feel like I’m getting a glimpse into the future. A future I can’t wait to experience with our omega. “We’ll film the presentations and put them on my social media account, where people can vote for the winner. Whoever has the most votes by the end of dinner wins The Sweater.”

Oz gives a loud whoop before Mrs. Harper suggests Meggie and her team go first to show us how it’s done.

Meggie, Harrison, and Vickie get up and show off their perfectly constructed gingerbread house, complete with a white picket fence, icicles made of frosting, and smoke rising from the chimney that they made with white fluffy cotton candy. Of course, it’s perfect. I wouldn’t expect anything less from Harrison, and Meggie and Vickie have years of experience doing this.

Ellis, Dante, and Lily are next. They went big with a full on cathedral. They even melted hard candy to make stained glass windows and used the caramel Oz made to make little bricks. Over achievers.

I’m not feeling quite as confident as I was before, but ours has something neither of the other teams has.

“McQuinn, Nils, and Oz, you’re up.” Meggie’s mom says.

McQuinn lifts the cardboard box that’s been hiding our creation and everyone crowds in closer to see.

“It’s an Olympic pool,” I explain. “We used blue frosting for the water.” I point to the little waves Oz made. “And we used gingerbread for the stands and gummy bears for the crowd.”

“And here’s us,” Oz pipes in. He points to each little frosted animal cracker, naming us all.

My chest clenches with the sudden awareness that the image we recreated in frosting and candy won’t ever be recreated in real life again.

I catch Meggie discretely swiping her hand under her eyes and wonder if she’s thinking the same thing. Wrapping my arm around her, I whisper, “It’s not like we’ll never play again.”

I’m not sure if I’m saying it for her or for me. Dante and McQuinn get to be in the pool pretty regularly since they both got jobs coaching at the local high school. But Meggie and the rest of us haven’t played since the weather turned colder.

“I know,” Meggie whispers back, hugging closer to my side. “It’s just not the same.”

She’s right. Nothing’s the same as going to the Olympics. Thanks to the work of a lot of activist groups and the non-profit Meggie and Harrison’s mom started, the Olympic Committee allowed us to keep our medals, and they’re even reviewing thepossibility of allowing omegas in the next Olympics. But because we broke the law and “disgraced our country,” we were not so gently told we can never again compete at an Olympic level.

I kiss the top of Meggie’s head and squeeze her tight. The moment we captured in our gingerbread “house” is one that will never come again, but it’s also the best fucking memory of my life. I’ll never forget it. Working toward that moment brought us Meggie. I owe everything about this life I love to the 2024 Olympics.

I look around at each of my pack mates. Ellis and Dante have their arms around each other. Harrison’s got a slight frown on his face, but I can tell through the bond that he’s not upset, just thoughtful. Oz glances back at me before quickly looking away. McQuinn catches my eye as he finishes explaining the Olympic Rings we made out of gummy circles. He winks, sending a fluttery feeling spiraling through my insides.

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