Page 64 of Hot Chocolate & Hitmen

The kitchen is cozy and warm, the scent of pine from the Christmas tree mingling with the spices I’ve set out. I hum to myself as I start prepping, my mind still buzzing with the memory of Atlas’s face when I nailed him with that first snowball. Totally worth it.

As I chop the vegetables, I can’t help but wonder how we all ended up here. A cabin in the middle of nowhere, hitmen for company, and a cheating ex a bit…tied up. It’s the kind of situation that’s supposed to be terrifying, yet here I am, feeling more at home with these three men than I ever did with Jason.

I pause, the knife hovering over a potato. Jason. I haven’t thought about him much today, which is weird considering he’s the reason I’m here in the first place. The anger and hurt bubble up again, but it’s different now. Before, it was all-consuming, like a storm I couldn’t see through. But now? It feels...manageable. Like I’m starting to come to terms with it. Maybe it’s because I have people—real people—who care about me, in their own strange,hitman-yway.

Shaking off the thought, I focus back on the task at hand.

I hum to myself as I stir the pot of stew, the rich scent of simmering beef and vegetables filling the kitchen. I can’t help but feel a sense of satisfaction as the meal comes together. There’s something comforting about cooking, about knowing that I’m creating something warm and nourishing after the snowball fight, a little reward for all of us.

Once I’m happy with how it’s turned out, I ladle the stew into bowls, each one steaming and full of hearty goodness. Setting the bowls on a tray along with some fresh bread, I take a step back, admiring my work.

“Not bad, Grace. Not bad at all,” I mutter, wiping my hands on a dishtowel. With a final glance at the kitchen I head toward the door. I can still hear the guys outside, their deep voices rumbling in the distance as they wrap up their oh-so-serious patrol.

As I approach the front door, a movement in the corner of my eye makes me pause. Jason.

He’s sitting in the living room, tied up in the same chair as before. Like the saddest holiday decoration ever.

But what catches my attention most is that he’s clearly been moved. I can see the subtle signs: the slightly askew chair, the water bottle resting next to him on the floor, the way his bindings look just a bit looser than before. It’s obvious the guys have been...considerate. They’ve probably let him eat, use the bathroom–basic human decency and all that.

He is sitting in a kind of weird way though and he looks pale and clammy. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say he’s in a lot of pain. But there’s no obvious injuries, so maybe he’s just coming down with something.

Despite his pathetic appearance, my stomach churns with a mix of emotions. Anger, yes, but also a strange, creeping pity. This is the same man who betrayed me, who slept with my best friend behind my back, who planned to leave me here withoutso much as an explanation until he was caught. And now? Now he looks like a discarded toy, pitiful and sad, wrapped up in Christmas cheer he doesn’t deserve.

I stand there for a moment, frozen in place, just watching him. He doesn’t look up, too busy staring at the floor, probably embarrassed by the state he’s in. A part of me wants to walk right past him, to leave him there and focus on the people who actually care about me. But another part–well, the part that’s annoyingly empathetic–feels a tug.

I walk over to him, crossing my arms. “Well, this is…” I trail off, not quite knowing what to say.

Jason lifts his head slowly, his eyes tired, dull and wary. Of what, I’m not sure. The emotion looks oddly misplaced. For a moment, he doesn’t say anything, just stares at me like he’s trying to process the situation. “Grace…”

“What? Did you think I forgot you were here?” I ask, my voice sharper than I intended. “I’ve been a little busy, you know. Cooking, snowball fights, living my life.”

His face flushes, and he looks away, shame creeping into his expression. “I didn’t want–” He cuts off, taking a deep breath. “I didn’t want it to go like this.”

I snort, crossing my arms tighter. “What? You mean ending up tied up like a sad Christmas tree? Well, you kind of asked for it, didn’t you?”

Jason flinches, and for the first time since this whole mess started, I notice just how...small he looks. Defeated. And it hits me. This isn’t the Jason I remember. The cocky, confident guy who always knew how to make me feel like the center of his world, at least when it suited him. This is someone else entirely. A guy who’s been stripped of everything–his pride, his control, his power.

“What happened to you, Jason?” I ask, my voice softening despite myself.

For a moment, there’s silence between us, the crackling of the fireplace the only sound in the room. I know I should just walk away, let him sit there and stew in his own mess. But something keeps me rooted to the spot.

“I never wanted to hurt you,” he says quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. “I was stupid. I thought I could...I don’t know. Have everything. You, Tina, my job.”

I let out a bitter laugh, but it comes out more sad than anything. “That’s not true, Jason. There’s no point in lying anymore. You knew it would hurt me and you did it all anyway.”

His head drops, and he nods, the garland of lights shifting slightly as he moves. “Yeah. Maybe I did.”

I study him for a long moment, trying to figure out what I’m supposed to feel. Anger? Sadness? Relief? It’s a mess of all three, swirling together in my chest. Part of me wants to scream at him, to tell him how much he hurt me, how much of a fool I felt like. But another part just wants this whole thing to be over.

“Do you regret it?” I ask suddenly, the question slipping out before I can stop it.

Jason lifts his head, his eyes meeting mine with a mixture of surprise and something else–something raw. “More than you’ll ever know.”

I nod slowly, taking a step back. “Good.”

I turn to leave, my heart pounding in my chest, but before I can walk away, Jason speaks again. “Grace...do you think you could ever forgive me?”

I stop in my tracks, his words hanging in the air between us. Forgive him? That’s a tall order. And I’m not sure I’m ready to give him an answer to that. At least not yet.

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