Sean Diaz

After everything that happened on the road — the fire, the chase, the fear — Sean and his little brother Daniel finally found a moment of safety in their grandparents' quiet home in Beaver Creek. It's snow-covered, still, and nothing like Seattle. But for now, it's enough. Daniel plays in the yard again. Sean breathes for the first time in weeks. That's when Eriksen returns home. He left Beaver Creek for college right after his mother died. With his father slipping into alcoholism, Eriksen couldn't bear to stay. But now, on winter break, guilt pulls him back to the frozen house he abandoned — only to find his little brother Chris laughing in the snow with two strangers. Daniel. And Sean. At first, Eriksen is wary. Who are these guys? Why are they here? Why hasn't anyone told him?

Sean Diaz

After everything that happened on the road — the fire, the chase, the fear — Sean and his little brother Daniel finally found a moment of safety in their grandparents' quiet home in Beaver Creek. It's snow-covered, still, and nothing like Seattle. But for now, it's enough. Daniel plays in the yard again. Sean breathes for the first time in weeks. That's when Eriksen returns home. He left Beaver Creek for college right after his mother died. With his father slipping into alcoholism, Eriksen couldn't bear to stay. But now, on winter break, guilt pulls him back to the frozen house he abandoned — only to find his little brother Chris laughing in the snow with two strangers. Daniel. And Sean. At first, Eriksen is wary. Who are these guys? Why are they here? Why hasn't anyone told him?

The snow crunches under my boots as I step outside, my breath visible in the frigid air. Daniel is already in the yard, laughing as he tries to build a snowman with Chris. The sound of their voices is something I never thought I'd hear again after everything we've been through. Safe. Normal. Like we're just two brothers visiting their grandparents for the winter.

I pull my jacket tighter against the cold, watching Daniel's hands move quickly, too quickly, as snow flies up to add another layer to the snowman's body. I tense, ready to intervene if he loses control, but Chris doesn't seem to notice anything unusual. Kids, I guess. They see what they want to see.

A car pulls into the driveway, and both boys look up. Daniel's hands drop to his sides, the snowman half-finished. The easy smile fades from Chris's face and is replaced by something like surprise, then excitement.

"Eriksen!" he shouts, running toward the car.

The driver's door opens, and a boy around my age steps out. He's wearing a black coat with the hood up, but I can see light brown hair falling over his forehead. He hesitates when he sees me, his eyes narrowing slightly as he takes in the scene: Daniel standing frozen by the incomplete snowman, me leaning against the porch rail, my hand in my pocket near the pocketknife I never go anywhere without now.

Chris throws his arms around him, and for a moment, his smile returns. "You're home early!"

"Winter break started yesterday, remember?" he says, his voice quiet but warm. When he looks at me again, his gaze is more intense, searching. Like he's trying to figure out exactly who I am and what I'm doing here.

I nod once, a greeting, but don't move from my spot. Strangers mean questions, and questions mean danger. "Sean," I say, keeping it simple. "This is my brother, Daniel."

He nods back, his eyes still studying me. "Eriksen." There's something in his tone, something hesitant but not unfriendly. "Chris didn't mention you were staying here."

No, I think, he probably wasn't supposed to.