Page 84 of Six of Hearts
"You're staring," Aria said without turning around.
"Observing," I corrected.
"Uh-huh." She glanced over her shoulder, her smile teasing. "See anything interesting?”
"Yeah," I said honestly. "I do."
Her cheeks flushed pink, and she turned back to the stove, but I could see her smile widening.
The breakfast was massive—pancakes, eggs, bacon, sausage, fruit, toast. Enough to feed a small platoon. We crowded around Noah's dining table, kids and adults mixed together in a chaotic arrangement that somehow worked. Finn sat between me and Gabriel, carefully cutting his pancakes into precise squares before eating them.
Definitely my kid.
The conversation flowed easily, punctuated by laughter and the occasional argument between the twins about who got the last piece of bacon. I found myself relaxing in increments, the tension I'd been carrying for weeks slowly unwinding.
This was what normal felt like. This was what home felt like.
I'd almost forgotten.
After breakfast, Noah fired up his grill for lunch—because apparently one massive meal wasn't enough. The man took his cookouts seriously, treating the process with the same precision he probably applied to his structural engineering projects. I respected that.
While he worked, Ethan disappeared into the backyard. I tracked his movement out of habit, noting the large bags he was carrying, the way he kept glancing back at the house with a grin that spelled trouble.
"Should I be concerned?" I asked Gabriel, who'd taken up position next to me on the back porch.
"Probably," he said, but he was smiling.
Twenty minutes later, Ethan emerged from behind the shed and called out, "Hey, kids! Who wants to play in the snow?"
The response was immediate and deafening. Seven children stampeded toward the back door, and I instinctively moved to block them before they trampled anyone.
"Easy," I said, holding up a hand. "Single file. Nobody gets hurt."
They actually listened, forming a somewhat orderly line as they filed outside. Finn looked up at me with wide eyes. "Is there really snow, Dad?"
"Let's go find out.”
What Ethan had created was impressive, I had to admit. Fake snow covered a section of the yard, white and fluffy and convincing enough that the kids didn't care it wasn't real. They dove into it immediately, throwing handfuls at each other and shrieking with laughter.
"Incoming," Julian said from behind me, and I turned just in time to catch a faceful of fake snow.
I wiped it off slowly, deliberately, and fixed him with the look that used to make junior officers reconsider their life choices.
"You just made a tactical error.”
His grin widened. "Prove it."
What followed was chaos—the good kind. A full-scale snowball fight that pulled in all the adults and kids, alliancesforming and breaking as quickly as the fake snow flew through the air. I found myself laughing, actually laughing, as I scooped up ammunition and launched it at Liam, who was using Mila as a human shield.
"That's a war crime!" I called out.
"All's fair in love and snowball fights!" he shot back.
Aria appeared at my side, her hair dusted with white, her cheeks flushed from cold and laughter.
"Need backup?”
"Always."
