Olivia wrinkled her nose.“How can snow be complicated?”
“Well,” Cat said, smiling, “I’m from Michigan.Snow there isn’t pretty and polite like this.It’s bossy.It moves in for the season, and you don’t see grass again until Easter.I spent half my childhood bundled like a snowman.”
Olivia giggled.“That sounds fun!”
“Fun for about ten minutes,” Cat said.“Then your nose freezes and you start to rethink all your life choices.”
Jillian smirked.“You talk like snow’s a person.”
“Snow and I have history,” Cat said.“It’s a long story.”
Olivia tilted her head.“Where’s your grandma now?The one who made baked beans with hamburgers?”
Cat’s smile faltered for the briefest second.“She’s gone.Passed away a few years ago.”
“Oh.”Olivia’s voice went soft.“I’m sorry.”
“Thanks, sweetheart.”Cat kept her tone light.“She loved winter, though.Said snow made the world feel fresh and new again.”
Jillian gave a sharp little snort.“That’s silly.Snow doesn’t fix anything.It just hides the mud.”
Cat looked at her across the table, eyebrows lifting slightly.“That’s a very practical observation.”
“It’s true,” Jillian said, lifting her chin.“Dad says everything looks perfect until it melts, and then you see what’s really underneath—and it’s not always very nice.”
The last words hung in the air, sharper than she probably intended because suddenly Jillian jumped up.“I’m done.I don’t want breakfast.I’m going to go back to my room.”
“Hold on,” Cat said, startled.“You can’t skip breakfast—”
“But I am.”
“I’d like you to eat something.Just hot chocolate won’t sustain you very well.One egg and one strip of bacon—”
“No.”
“Jillian.”
Jillian’s jaw tightened.“You’re not my mum.”
Cat drew a swift breath.“I’m not, no, but I’m the one here right now.”
Jillian’s eyes flashed—anger and grief and something else tangled together—and then she grabbed her mug only half drunk and poured it down the sink.“Happy now?”she said, voice trembling with fury.
Cat swallowed hard.“No.Not happy.”
Jillian glared at her for one long heartbeat, then stormed out of the kitchen, flinging the words, “This is why no one likes you,” before dashing up the stairs.
Silence filled the room again, thick and uneasy.
Olivia stared down at her cocoa.“She didn’t mean it,” she said softly.
Cat forced a small, reassuring smile.“I know.”But as Cat glanced toward the window, watching the snow fall steadily beyond the glass, she couldn’t ignore the sting of Jillian’s words.
The girl had meant to hurt her—and she had.
Or as Jillian had put it so poetically,sometimes, when the snow melts, what’s underneath isn’t nice at all.
“Cat?”Olivia asked quietly.
