Ava glances over her shoulder. “Really?”
I nod. “You both could use a break.”
Something soft flickers across her face—surprise, relief, a warmth she probably doesn’t want me to notice. Violet is already halfway off the couch.
The trail behind the lodge is short, the kind locals forget to call a hike. Steam curls up from the pools carved into the rock, snow dusting the edges like lace. The air smells of pine and wet stone.
And then Ava steps out from behind the boulders.
Her swimsuit is simple. Black. Practical. Nothing meant to draw attention. It nearly knocks the breath from my lungs anyway.
Not because of skin. Because of contrast. Winter light against warmth. Steam softening her shape. Her hair piled into a careless knot that leaves her neck bare.
I’ve known beauty. I’ve lost it.
This feels different. This feels alive.
She shivers as the cold air hits her skin. I look away too late.
Violet splashes into the water with a squeal, steam swallowing her laughter. “Mom! It’s like a magical forest bathtub!”
Ava laughs. “You’re basically eight again.”
“That was the goal.”
I sink onto a submerged ledge, heat easing into muscles that never fully relax anymore. Ava slides into the water across from me, breath catching softly as warmth wraps around her.
The sound lands in my chest like an impact.
She closes her eyes, head tipping back just slightly as she exhales. Unguarded. Real.
This shouldn’t feel like intimacy. It shouldn’t feel like anything at all. But the springs carry sound, carry breath, and hers moves along my skin like heat stronger than the water.
Violet drifts toward the far end, absorbed by icicles and reflections. The space between Ava and me tightens.
“You didn’t have to do this,” she says quietly.
“I know.”
She studies me then—not casually, not politely. Like she’s found a seam in armor I thought was solid.
“Thank you.”
My throat tightens. “Yeah.”
Snow drifts down around the rocks. Steam curls upward. The world feels suspended.
Then her knee brushes mine beneath the water.
Barely a touch. Enough to make my pulse jump hard against my throat.
I brace my hands on the rock, fighting the instinct to close the distance. She doesn’t pull away. Neither do I.
Her gaze flicks to my mouth. Back to my eyes.
When I lean in, it’s only a fraction. A breath. A mistake.
Ava leans too.
