Page 1 of Let it Snow Queen

Chapter 1

25 DAYS UNTIL CHRISTMAS

My dad almost died falling from a cliff while rock climbing. He’d be so pissed to find out I died the same way. Then my papa . . . he’d be beside himself that he wasn’t there to save me, to treat me. He’d swear the EMTs didn’t do enough. All three of my moms would be inconsolable. And Declan, my son . . . Shit.

It was selfish to leave and go so far north—into the mountains ironically named Hope Falls. I’d been living with my family for over a year with my two-year-old. I thought I’d get my own version of my mom’s love story when I met Declan’s father. An older doctor, handsome, charming. What a joke that turned out to be. After allowing myself months of cycling through grief and depression, waiting for my blessed mania to arrive, my family staged an intervention.

That was the thing about having two dads, three moms, and two foster siblings . . . They were all up in your business literally all the time. “Dr. Chauncey has diagnosed you with bipolar one disorder, Ruby. I suspected as much, but now that we have a diagnosis, we know what we’re working with. It’s going to be alright, sweetheart,” Papa explained with his perfect bedside manner.

My dad sat silently, thick arms crossed, while my moms looked on sympathetically. I took a deep breath, handing Declan his toy car. He squealed with delight and dropped to his belly to watch the wheels roll across the carpet. “I know I’ve been down this past year, but that sounds a little extreme. I’m fine.”

Everyone looked at my papa. The surgeon, doctor, dad-of-all-dads. “This kind of thing can be hard to take in, but I’ve observed the signs, Ruby. You’re uninterested in life, listless, lying in bed for days before suddenly getting a week’s burst of energy—”

My mom spoke, and her southern drawl was soft. “Abnormal energy. Weeding the garden from two in the morning until two the next afternoon isn’t healthy. We want to help you, sweetie.”

“I just needed fresh air,” I argued.

I looked to my dad, who seemed inclined to agree with me. Meeting my pleading gaze, he spoke. “She’s been through a lot.”

Mama, red hair as bright as mine and my mom’s, cut in. “There’s no shame in any mental health issues, guys. It’s neurological; it’s not like it’s something anyone can control.”

Mommy squeezed her knee in agreement. “That’s right, and there are so many medications out there now. We know a lot more now than we did ten years ago.”

“VROOM!” Declan shouted, waving his car through the air. Aurora and Malcolm, my siblings, sauntered in, assessing the vibe and shooting me pained expressions. They’d been withus for several years now; they knew all about these wonderful family meetings.

“Come on, Dec, let’s go play cars outside.” Malcolm scooped him up while Aurora tickled my toddler’s sides.

I put my head in my hands. “Maybe medicine wouldn’t hurt.”

“She needs more than meds. She needs a purpose. Fresh air can be medicine . . . and not in that hippie-shit way but in real fucking life way.” My dad’s resolved tone brought a grin to my face despite the tears wetting my palms.

My papa’s diplomatic voice was soothing. “Des isn’t wrong. I do think you need to do something for yourself, Ruby. What about that internship in the mountains?”

“Do you think she’s up for that?” I heard my mom ask like I wasn’t in the room. Like I couldn’t make my own damn decisions. I bit my tongue. Blowing up wasn’t worth it, and the fight to argue with them evaded me. I used to love fighting with them, arguing and debating everything from politics to conspiracy theories. Now . . . days would go by without me saying a word. I was just mindlessly going through the motions of caring for Declan until bedtime.

Maybe they were right. Bipolar. Fuckingbipolar. Though something about having a name for it helped. Like it was a thing. A thing other people had, too, dealt with and lived through. It wasn’t this nameless grey cloud anymore.Bipolar.If I really gave it thought, the signs were there before my epic heartbreak.

Dad wrapped his arm around me, and I leaned on his firm shoulder. “What do you think, Roo-Roo? Some mountain air, wildlife, and all the flowers you love. Feelin’ up for it?”

I sat up and offered him a weak smile. His hair was peppered with white. He’d look like Papa before long. “I can’t leave Declan.” I sniffled.

The moms interjected, and Mama answered, “Declan is fine with us; you know that. He’s in preschool most of the day, and we’re off to Germany before Christmas in a few weeks.”

It would get me out of going to Germany with them. Germany was fine, but we looked and acted like a traveling circus on long trips. I wasn’t feeling up for the chaos that year. However, snowy mountains, fresh air, local foliage . . .

“One month and we meet back here on Christmas Eve. Sound good, Roo?” My dad tugged at my ponytail. “Sometimes even the best players need an off-season.”

Looking around the room, I met the stares of people who cared about me so intensely. They were annoying as hell . . . but they were right. I didn’t want to tell them that at the moment, all I wanted to do was crawl into bed and stay there for days. They didn’t need to know that I went seventy-two hours straight without sleep two weeks ago. I thought I’d learn how to crochet and hyperfixated on it for hours on end. Goddamnit. They were right. Dr. Chauncey, Papa . . .

Whether or not I felt like it, I needed to get away. And a short-term, wintry internship in the woods could be my escape. Nature and silence. Oh hell, blessed ass silence . . . I was sold.

“I’m up for it, coach.”

22 DAYS UNTIL CHRISTMAS

Three days later, my pink hiking boots landed in Hope Falls. My adventure began by meeting Old Man Fish Fry. I called him that because he was, well, old and wore overalls and a T-shirt with a logo saying fish fry. I’d lived in the south my entire life and traveled a fair bit, even as a child: Germany, France, andSweden. Accents, especially living in Georgia, weren’t new to me. But Old Man Fish Fry’s accent was something else entirely. I vowed to somehow brush up on my Appalachian dialect as he showed me around the reserve. Hope Falls was a tiny mountain town with one of the most extensive protected forests in the United States. The plants and trees there were ancient. I was here to find and log the indigenous plants in the deepest parts of the forest. The more diverse plant life I found, the more grants Hope Falls Forrest would receive from the government. Old Man Fish Fry couldn’t do it, and the town seemed empty and sleepy. It was up to me to save the woods. Or at least that was what I told myself. Something vibrated through my bones. It was a feeling I hadn’t felt in so long: excitement.

After handing me a stack of maps, Fish Fry drove me in a rusty pickup truck to a cabin in the middle of the woods.

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