Page 19 of On the Edge

“So we can read more?” I asked as Rowan flew into the kitchen, gesturing wildly at the back door.

“It’s snowing!”

“Doesn’t that happen around here a lot?”

“Maren and I grew up near the coast with barely any snow before the dads adopted us. I still haven’t gotten over how pretty snow makes everything.”

“I get that. Growing up in Seattle, I’m not super used to snow either.” The winter wonderland outside was rather pretty. The snow must have been falling for a while because the ground was already covered with a thick white blanket. Snow always reminded me of our sporadic family trips to the mountains near Seattle or to my grandparents here in Mount Hope, making me feel cozy and warm, like I’d had another cup of Rowan’s hot chocolate from the night before. “I like it though.”

“Me too.” Rowan sighed happily.

“Better think twice about being a big Hollywood star.” Coming back into the kitchen, Wren set their plate in the sink before joining Rowan at the window. “It doesn’t snow in LA.”

“Yeah, but he’ll be able to afford Aspen.” Some of my better-paid acquaintances and their minor celebrity hangers-on came to mind. I’d always used the off-season to train in warmer climates, but there was plenty of winter partying to be had as well.

“Exactly. Thank you.” Rowan gave a regal nod. “And all the more reason to enjoy this round of snow rather than get bogged down in more college applications.”

“Put the effort in. You want to make sure you pick well.” Jonas sounded like a guidance counselor, making Rowan roll his eyes.

“Come on. Who wants a snowball fight? Build a snowpeople family?”

“I suppose I could be persuaded.” Wren bundled up and headed outside with Rowan, followed by Oz, while Jonas started in on the post-breakfast cleanup.

“I’ll help you clean.” I pushed to standing and arranged my leg on my kneeling scooter.

“You don’t have to do that.” Jonas waved away my offer, tone distracted as he loaded the dishwasher.

“I’m tired of feeling useless.” I rolled up next to him, which was a mistake because I could smell his subtle woodsy scent. The same weird emotions that had led me to prod him about kissing at midnight gathered back in my chest, but I wasn’t about to retract my offer to help.

“Okay, how about you rinse and hand me dishes?” Jonas’s suggestion kept me right there next to him, painfully aware of how tall and broad he was, how soft his hair and beard looked, and how very much I wanted to touch him.

No matter how much I wanted, I couldn’t. Not only for my usual slew of reasons but also because the sting of thatkidcomment lingered as we worked together. Jonas came up with a few other tasks I could do with the scooter, including wiping the stainless fridge while he did the counters.

As we were finishing up, Wren burst back into the kitchen, bringing a gust of cold wind and snow with them. “Come see what we made!”

“I don’t know if this thing has snow tires.” I gestured at my scooter.

“You can use the ramp. Our snow installation is in the front yard.” Wren’s tone said I should have thought of that option. “Please? Come with Jonas.”

Jonas was already grabbing his coat from a hook by the back door. If he was going, I was too. I was nothing if not stubborn. I put my too-thin jacket on in the entry hall only for Jonas to arrive behind me, scarf and gloves in hand.

“Here. I’m always losing mine, so I have extras.”

Ordinarily, I would have been the tough guy and said it wasn’t that cold out, but the chance to have something of Jonas’s next to my skin even temporarily had me nodding. “Thanks.”

The gloves were a soft knit, a world away from the thick motorcycle gloves I was used to, and the scarf had the same woodsy scent I associated with only Jonas. I waited until I was trailing behind him to inhale deeply, letting myself wallow in the billowy flannel that felt almost like a caress.

Oz ran ahead of us, intent on getting back to the teens who were putting the finishing touches on a snow creature that was definitely not the typical snowperson. I paused at the bottom of the ramp to examine it from a distance. Rather than three stacked balls, this snow thing was long and boxy with a giant plastic horn stuck in what I hoped to God was the head.

“It’s a unicorn,” Rowan called out. He wore a sparkly purple parka with black fur on the hood. “I had a spare horn upstairs, but the rest is snow.”

“I argued for a narwhale, butsomeonesaid I lack imagination.” Wren shook a stubby finger at Rowan. Wren wore a green trench coat, equally as unsuitable to the weather as mine but somehow perfect for them.

“Your unicorn is…very impressive.” I searched for words of praise, but my tone came off a bit confused.

“You both worked very hard,” Jonas added as Oz romped around in front of the snow unicorn, digging and flinging snow around.

“Oz sure seems to like the snow.” Rowan and Wren were deep in a discussion about whether or not to attempt to dye portions of the snow, so I focused my attention on Jonas, not that my brain needed much encouragement to shift back to where it had been stuck for days now.

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