Page 94 of Reckless: Collision

I smile sweetly. “Look up.”

The branch above him is heavy with snow—snow I hit with a perfectly aimed snowball while everyone was distracted. His eyes widen a second before everything comes crashing down, burying him in white powder.

When he emerges, sputtering and laughing, I stand over him with my final snowball. “Now who’s got who?”

“I yield!” He holds up his hands in surrender. “All hail the snow queen!”

Victory cheers and slow claps sound from our fallen comrades. Finn’s already talking about statistical improbabilities while Theo demands a rematch. Ryker just shakes his head, but I catch his proud smile.

“Come on,” I offer Jinx my hand. “I’ll make hot chocolate to soothe your wounded pride.”

“With tiny marshmallows?” Jinx takes my hand, but instead of letting me help him up, he yanks me down into the snow beside him. “Because losers deserve tiny marshmallows.”

“You’re all children.” Ryker’s declaration might carry more weight if he wasn’t still picking snow out of his collar. “Dangerous, overgrown children.”

“Says the man who dumped snow down Finn’s back,” Theo points out, making snow angels with artistic precision.

“Speaking of backs,” Finn pushes up his now-dry glasses, “we should probably head in before someone catches hypothermia. The statistics for?—”

“No statistics,” I cut him off, letting Jinx pull me to my feet for real this time. “Just hot chocolate and maybe a movie?”

The way their faces light up at such a simple suggestion does funny things to my heart. Like maybe this is what family is supposed to feel like—snowball fights and sledding and warm drinks after.

The ride back is calmer, everyone worn out in the best way. This time I ride with Finn, watching Jinx try to race Ryker while Theo eggs them both on from the back of Ryker’s snowmobile.

Inside, we shed wet layers like snakes shedding skin. Boots by the door, coats on hooks, gloves set to dry. It should feel domestic. Should feel like too much. Instead, it feels...right.

“Dibs on first shower!” Jinx announces, already heading for the stairs.

“There are four bathrooms,” Ryker reminds him with fond exasperation.

“Yeah, but mine has the best water pressure.”

“They’re all on the same system—” Finn starts, but Jinx is already gone, leaving wet footprints in his wake.

I find myself in the kitchen, rummaging through cabinets until I find what I need. Real chocolate, whole milk, a pinchof salt, and yes—tiny marshmallows. Because some things are worth doing right.

“Need help?” Theo appears at my elbow, hair still damp with snow.

“Can you make whipped cream?” I measure chocolate into a pan. “From scratch?”

His smile turns wicked. “Piccola, I am Italian. Making things from scratch is in my DNA.”

We move around the kitchen like we’ve done this a hundred times, like I haven’t just spent months running from any hint of domesticity. Theo whisks cream into peaks while I stir melting chocolate, the rich scent filling the air.

“I used to do this with my mom.” The words slip out soft as snow. “After rain storms—because that was our version of winter in California. She’d make hot chocolate from scratch while I did my homework.”

Theo’s whisking slows, giving me space to continue or stop. No pressure, just presence.

“She always said Swiss Miss was a sin against chocolate.” I laugh, but it catches in my throat. “Called it synthetic sadness in a packet.”

“She sounds wonderful.” His voice carries that musical understanding that makes sharing easier.

“She was.” I focus on stirring, watching dark chocolate swirl with milk. “Is this what pack feels like? This... belonging?”

Before he can answer, thundering footsteps announce Jinx’s return. He appears in basketball shorts and a hoodie, hair dripping, looking more settled in his skin.

“It smells like heaven died and went to chocolate paradise in here.” He makes grabby hands at the pot. “Is it ready?”

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