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Brayden

“Y

ou’re so much more badass than me,” Shay says. “I hate running in the snow.”

I tear my eyes off the glowing lights of my Christmas tree to survey my sister, who’s in the kitchen doctoring her coffee. It’s not even eight in the morning, but Shay was waiting in the kitchen when I got back from my run. I let her make coffee while I showered and got dressed. “I like running in the cold