When he disappears inside, I follow him, brushing snow from my hair as I step over the threshold. The scent of cinnamon and maple drifts from the kitchen.
Penny’s sitting at the table, her cheeks flushed pink, a tiny smile ghosting across her face. She’s wearing one of Cast’s oversized sweaters, sleeves hanging past her hands, and she’s pushing marshmallows around in her cocoa like they’re little boats.
“How’re you feeling, sweetheart?” I ask, coming to rest a hand on the back of her chair.
She looks up, eyes still tired but bright. “Better,” she says softly. “A little dizzy.”
I smooth a strand of hair from her forehead, my thumb brushing the warmth there. “Okay let me know if you feel any worse, alright?”
“Okay,” she nods.
“She’s been up since six,” Cast calls from the stove, flipping pancakes like a man possessed. “Said she didn’t want to miss Santa in case he came early.”
Penny giggles, half hiding behind her cup. “Pops burned the first batch.”
“I did not,” Cast says without turning. “They had extra seasoning.”
“Charcoal is not a seasoning,” Vincent says dryly from the counter, pouring my fresh coffee. He slides it across to me, the smallest smile tugging at his mouth. “Café à la Beaumont.”
“Watch it, Beaumont,” Cast mutters, but there’s no real bite to it.
Penny grins between them, her small laugh like sunlight in the room. I can’t help it—I smile too, sinking into the chair beside her, wrapping my hands around the warm mug Vincent just set down.
Damien appears in the doorway, Santa hat slouched sideways on his head, an unamused expression twisting his mouth.
I stare at him for a beat, then grin. “You look festive.”
He sighs. “I lost a bet.”
“What bet?” I ask, half-laughing.
Cast’s smirk grows slow, deliberate. “Oh, the usual,” he says, flipping a pancake with the confidence of a man who’s absolutely lying. “We were playing cards last night after you went to bed. Loser wears the hat at breakfast.”
Damien crosses his arms. “You neglected to mention that the cards were marked.”
“They weren’t marked,” Cast replies smoothly. “You just have terrible instincts.”
Vincent lifts his coffee, hiding a grin behind the rim. “He’s not wrong.”
Damien glares at both of them, then looks at me as if I might save him. “You see what I deal with? This is abuse.”
I lean my cheek against my hand, pretending to think. “Hm. Depends what the stakes were.”
Vincent arches a brow. “Oh, you should ask that part.”
Damien shoots him a warning look. “Don’t.”
Cast ignores him completely, a glint in his eyes. “Loser was supposed to wear the hatandserve breakfast shirtless, but I was feeling merciful.”
“Merciful?” Damien says incredulously. “Then why did you glue this fucking hat to my head?”
“Ooooo,” Elise sings, before sticking her tongue out at Damien. “Papa said a bad word!”
“He did,” I smile poking Elise on the tip of of her nose. “You know what that means?”
“Swear Jar!” Penny and Elise yell in sync and I turn to see a narrowed-eyed Damien.
“For the love of?—”
