Chapter 47
Iwake to the soft glow of sunlight creeping through the heavy curtains, the pale winter light painting the wooden beams above me in gold. The cabin is calm, but I can hear faint sounds downstairs: muffled laughter, the clink of mugs, someone moving around the kitchen.
I pull on the oversized sweater I left at the foot of the bed and pad down the stairs in thick socks, drawn by the smell of coffee and the soft crackle of a fire already burning in the hearth.
Morella’s sitting cross-legged on the couch, hair a mess, one of the matching pajama onesies we picked out last night zipped halfway up as she scrolls lazily on her phone.
Silas is perched on the arm of the couch beside her, still in his sweatpants and hoodie, sipping from a steaming mug and arguing with Rafe about the right way to make scrambled eggs.
“Good morning, Princess,” Silas calls out when he spots me, his grin lazy and soft. “You’re just in time for The Great Breakfast Debate.”
Rafe snorts from his spot near the stove, a spatula in hand. “If Silas knew anything about breakfast, I’d actually take offense.”
Archer is at the far end of the kitchen island, nursing his own mug of coffee, leaning casually against the counter, barefoot and rumpled in the most perfect way. He catches my eye and tilts his head slightly, lips curling in that almost-smile that’s more subtle than Silas’s grin but just as warm.
“Coffee’s fresh,” he says quietly. Then hands me the cup he just poured for himself. He grabs another mug out of the cupboard and fills it with coffee.
Morella stretches her arms over her head. “After breakfast we’re sledding,” she announces, already deciding for all of us.
Silas groans dramatically. “Why not snowboarding? It’s basically the same thing.”
She shakes her head. “No, it’s totally not.”
Rafe shakes his head, clearly amused despite himself. “Let’s get through breakfast first.”
“Fine,” Morella says easily, tugging a blanket around her shoulders.
While they bicker, I pour creamer into my coffee, the warmth of the mug curling around my fingers as I lean against the counter near Archer.
He doesn’t say anything, but he reaches out when I’m close enough, he takes my wrist and pulls me close, pressing a gentle kiss to my lips.
I smile into the kiss and silently beg for another.
His hand slips into my hair at the nape of my neck and he gives me another kiss. Longer this time.
The entire cabin feels wrapped in this bubble of quiet freedom. No parents. No school. No one demanding anything from any of us. Just this perfect winter wonderland waiting outside and the five of us filling the space with sleepy laughter and familiar comfort.
I take a sip of coffee, letting the moment sink in.
Plates are finally set out across the big wooden dining table, the smells of eggs, toast, and bacon filling the entire cabin. Everyone’s casually grabbing a seat, mugs of coffee in hand, laughter still lingering from the back-and-forth in the kitchen.
I slide into my chair between Morella and Silas, already eager for that first bite. The food smells incredible—warm, buttery and perfect.
Without even thinking, I take a forkful of scrambled eggs, still fluffy and steaming, and the moment it hits my tongue I can’t help it.
A soft, involuntary moan escapes me—low and drawn out, muffled around my mouthful of food.
It’s that good.
When I open my eyes, ready to reach for another bite, I freeze.
The table is… silent.
Morella has her head bowed, eyes locked on her plate, biting her bottom lip so hard it looks like she’s physically holding back laughter.
Everyone else?
Staring.
Silas’s mouth is slightly open in what starts as genuine shock, but then a slow, wicked grin curls across his face. His eyebrow arches as if to say oh really? and his eyes absolutely sparkle with mischief.
Archer is sitting very still, fork paused halfway to his mouth. His expression is completely frozen, nearly blank but the slightest widening of his eyes betrays that he was not prepared for that sound first thing in the morning.
And then there’s Rafe.
He’s across from me, leaning back slightly in his chair, his knuckles white where they grip his coffee mug. His gaze meets mine. Long enough that my cheeks start to heat. Long enough that the air between us feels suddenly heavier than it did two seconds ago.
His lips part slightly, like he might say something… but he doesn’t.
He just stares.
And I stare right back.
Finally, desperate to break whatever this moment is, I clear my throat and set my fork down carefully.
“I had no idea you could cook so well,” I say quickly, voice light but maybe just a little breathless.
Morella loses it beside me, snorting into her napkin.
Silas leans his elbow on the table, chin in his hand, gaze fixed on me with open amusement. “Princess, you’re welcome to moan like that any time of day. Especially at breakfast.”
Archer exhales, finally moving again, setting his fork down gently before giving his head a subtle shake—still clearly processing.
Even Rafe cracks then—a low chuckle under his breath as he leans forward, recovering just enough composure to mutter, “Glad you approve.”
I laugh too, cheeks burning, and dig back into my food as quickly as I can, hyper-aware of every set of eyes on me.
But beneath the laughter and teasing, there’s something else I feel simmering. Something warm, and good, and maybe a little dangerous.
This trip is going to be unforgettable.