I turn, smiling. "Yeah."
He steps behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist. His chin settles lightly on my shoulder, the weight warm and grounding as we both stare at the slow, drifting flakes outside. Duluth looks like a postcard — the harbor dusted white, the Aerial Lift Bridge disappearing slightly in the gray, the streets coated in soft powder. It's quiet, serene, like the whole city is holding its breath.
"I was thinking," I say, sipping my coffee, "how amazing it would be if we could stay a bit longer. Go exploring. Skate outside while it's snowing. Be disgustingly romantic."
Zach sighs into my neck, dreamy. "Yeah... that would be perfect."
"That's what I thought too. But given our busy schedule, we can't."
He kisses the side of my head. "Well... winter break's coming up. Maybe we can come back here. Stay a few days. Just the two of us. No school, no practice. What do you think?"
My smile stretches so wide it almost hurts. "Yeah. I'd like that, Zach."
We stay there for a moment, just watching the snow fall, tucked into each other like we're exactly where we're meant to be.
Then Zach clears his throat gently. "Come on, babe. Let's eat before the food gets cold."
He presses a kiss to my shoulder. "I want breakfast with you before I go meet the team."
And just like that, the morning feels warm, soft, and perfect — snow outside, my boyfriend behind me, and a quiet little pocket of peace before the world kicks back in.
CHAPTER fifty-three
ZACH
It's Monday night, and the boys and I are out in the backyard of The Pond, celebrating Cody's twentieth birthday—because apparently turning twenty means throwing what looks like a half-feral backyard festival with fifty uninvited guests, four busted speakers, and one very overworked grill.
Music pounds through Kentaro's giant portable speaker—even though he swears he didn't bring it("someone stole it from my room," he'd muttered earlier, glaring directly at Cody).
Colored string lights are tangled across the fence.
Someone dragged our living room couches outside.
Three folding tables are sagging under mountains of food—burgers, ribs, wings, hotdogs, grilled corn, giant bowls of queso, chips, dips, and an absolutely unhinged hockey-puck cake that says:
HAPPY 20TH, YOU MENACE
The whole place smells like smoke, chlorine, and overpriced cologne.
Everyone is in full party mode.
Half the guys are shirtless in board shorts, dripping pool water everywhere.
Some of the girls showed up in bikinis and cover-ups—floating on the pool loungers, legs dangling in the water, laughing their asses off. Others are dancing barefoot in the grass, red solo cups lifted like trophies.
Cody, of course, is the star of the chaos — shirt halfway unbuttoned, hair wet from the twins throwing him in the pool earlier.
He's on the makeshift "dance floor"—which is really just a dry patch of grass—beer in one hand, other hand glued to some girl'ship while she's grinding her ass against him like she's trying to win a trophy for"Most Aggressive Human Metronome."
He's laughing loud enough to shake the damn lights strung above us.
Definitely birthday-boy nirvana.
Kentaro is sitting beside me, stiff as a board, both hands wrapped around his water like it's a holy relic. This is his version of hell—too loud, too sweaty, too many bodies. He's only out here instead of locking himself in his room because Cody turned those stupid puppy-dog eyes on him and practically begged.
After a while, Kentaro mutters something about needing the bathroom and practically bolts out of his seat.
So it's just me... and Elijah.
