1
Jackie
Iwas folding sweaters like a lunatic, my suitcase half-zipped, snow boots already lined up by the door. “Do you think I need one more thick coat? Or is that overkill?”
From the couch, Elliott didn’t even look up from his book. “Baby, we’re going to a place that literally has heated floors. You’ll be fine.”
I ignored him and added another anyway. Just in case. It was early December, and Lake Tahoe was already blanketed in a few feet of snow. Hana had sent me a picture yesterday—her boots halfway sunk into white fluff, the cabin’s chimney puffing smoke behind her, like something out of a postcard. There was supposed to be a snow storm later, shortly after we arrived, so I was trying to prepare, just in case.
“Excited?” Elliott asked, flipping a page, eyeing me with amusement.
I rolled my eyes. “Of courseI’m excited. We haven’t seen them since the summer.”
He closed the book, his gaze sharpening the way it always did when he turned his full attention on me. “I haven’t seen you this way in a long time.” His voice dropped half an octave. “It’s cute. But if you keep flitting around like that, withthatattitude, I’m going to have to tie you down.”
I paused mid-pack and gave him a look. “Don’t threaten me with a good time.”
That earned me a smirk. “Not a threat.”
Beneath the banter, there was something more; this trip meant more than just a few days in the snow. Hana and I had been through hell together. The same man, the same bruises in different shapes. Michael left scars we couldn’t unwrite, but when I took his life—when she watched with unwavering support—it forged something permanent. I never had to explain anything to her. She justknew.
We saw each other twice a year without fail. One trip to LA for them, one to New York for us. But this time, we’d chosen something different. It was neutral ground, a snowy cabin tucked into the side of a mountain, just the four of us. No distractions, no busy city life. Just wood, fire, snow, and each other’s company.
I glanced at Elliott who’d finally risen from the couch. He stretched, his muscles flexing beneath his long-sleeved shirt. I knew every inch of him; I knew what it meant when his eyes went sharp like that. I knew what it felt like when he gripped my jaw and told me to kneel, his voice a deep, low rumble.
But that was ours. No one else knew what he was like behind closed doors. They saw Elliott—my gorgeous, smart, kind, soft-spoken husband.
He stepped in front of me now, cupping my chin like he could read my thoughts.
“Should I bring the rope?”
I bit my lip and nodded enthusiastically. “Always.”
Elliott and I had a very small wedding in Ojai a year prior, and I wondered when or if the honeymoon phase would end. My heart would still leap at the sight of him. He was my everything, and he knew me so well—sometimestoowell. He saw past my bullshit when I told him I was fine but I really wasn’t. Dealing with the trauma of what Michael had done to me was still weighing heavily, even after all these years, and what I did to him that December night still burned through my brain like fire.
But it was necessary.
And that was something Hana and I would have together forever.
* * *
The airport was busy and Elliott kept one hand on the small of my back as we moved through the terminal, his palm reassuring me that everything was okay. I hated crowds, and he knew the exact way to soothe me.
I smiled as we waited at the baggage claim. Elliott and I had met on a plane two years ago—me thinking it was fate, him knowing better. He’d been hired by Michael to gather information on me, though at the time I just thought he was some hot older guy trying to make conversation. He tried, and I shut him down fast. To be fair, I was still fucked up from Michael and running from New York, desperate to forget him.
But that was another story, one I’d already lived through once and had no interest in revisiting. I’d spent too long getting lost back there.
We didn’t say much as we waited for the rental car. Elliott held my hand, circling my knuckles with his thumb, as we watched snowflakes drift past the tall glass windows. They were soft flurries now, but the guy behind the counter glanced up at the sky.
“Storm’s moving in fast. Might trap people up there tonight if they’re not prepared,” he explained.
He scanned Elliott’s license, then continued. “We threw a set of chains in the back, just in case. You’re heading into the mountains, so it’s better to have them even if you don’t use them.”
I knew he meant chains for the tires, but my mind went somewhere filthier.
I smirked and shot Elliott a look.
He caught it, and his eyes met mine for half a second too long.
