It hadn’t just been a name. It’d been hers.Theirs, hers, and Nan’s.
Not his.
She hadn’t asked to keep it; she only asked for himnotto keep it. But she didn’t have the money to fight him, and Davis knew that. He would’ve dragged out the legal battle long enough to let her desperation show, until her resolve thinned out.
The victory for him wasn’t about taking the name—it was about knowing he took it because hecould. The power. It was just another thing he’d taken from her.
Eliza blinked hard and deleted the message. She wouldn’t cry about this again. It would’ve been the thousandth time, andthis trip was to get away. While she was thinking about it, she blocked his number.
Good flipping riddance.
Eliza changed her clothes, stepping out of Lachlan’s joggers and into jeans and a butter yellow sweater. She pulled on her thick wool socks and Uggs and headed downstairs.
At the foot of the staircase, Puffcake looked like a frosted gargoyle as he sat next to the mantle. Her heart twitched just a little. Had he waited for her?
He looked up at her, letting out tiny puffs of smoke as he danced in a circle.
“Yeah, I’m ready too. Let’s go.”
Eliza opened the back door, and Puffcake sprang like a shotgun out of its barrel and into the cold.
Unsurprisingly, the door didn’t even groan in protest as Eliza walked through the threshold. She felt like she was a spy in some movie, sneaking past all the loaded tripwires.
The bright light reflecting off the snow caused her to squint.
In the raised garden beds were swirling peppermints and brightly colored candy that resembled flowers blanketed in snow.
She noticed how untouched this section of the cottage was, and for a moment she paused. It was quiet, too quiet.
She didn’t even hear the grating of the shovels against pavement as the siblings and Lachlan worked.
Behind her, Puffcake let out a loud bark, startling her. She turned to see what the matter was before?—
Splat.
A perfectly round, perfectly cold snowball hit her cheek, bursting into tiny flakes. She looked down at her clothes, stunned, seeing that they were completely soaked.
Gretel’s laugh flitted through the air. Eliza decided she couldn’t be mad. If it were Lachlan, it would’ve been a completely different story.
“I told her not to do it,” said a man standing next to her. Hansel casually propped a hand against his shovel, an apologetic smile on his face.
He wore a black and white checkered sweater and a red vest, seeming unbothered by the freezing temperature. Navy blue hair peeked out from his beanie, his features a faint echo of Gretel’s, only sharper and more pronounced. But their eyes were the same shade of deep purple.
Beside him, Gretel didn’t look the least bit sorry. She laughed as she packed another bundle of snow, and this time, Eliza ducked. But it wasn’t aimed at her.
Puffcake let out a yelp. A mound of snow lay on the ground, smoke sizzling from within. He burst out of it and came up swinging and hissing.
He flew over to hide behind Eliza’s shoulder, looking wounded.
“Don’t do that,” Lachlan warned Gretel. “He might get all soggy.”
Puffcake let out a huff like he agreed.
Lachlan came over to dust a speck of snow off of Puffcake’s snout. Eliza’s eyes caught his, and she was reminded of the way he stood in front of her, pulling her chin upwards to meet his gaze.
Eliza turned to the cinnamon flamethrower and faked another smile. At this point, it felt effortless. “Puffcake, are you thinking what I’m thinking?”
Puffcake didn’t have eyebrows, but if he had, Eliza knew he’d have them raised, egging her on to avenge their attacks.
