And quiet. I loved winter the most for that reason. The stars peeked out through the clouds, and you could hear water in the distance, although there was no water nearby. The frozen blanket over the land in the stark night silenced the world so much, you could hear things you normally couldn’t.

It was haunting.

“Snow’s coming,” she told me. “We better hurry.”

Yeah. “Just enjoying the calm before the storm,” I teased.

And I didn’t mean the snow. My mother was right. Drama always went down when the family got together.

Mads walked out of the house, straightening his black tie over his black shirt and suit, and Jett came running past him and up to me.

I scooped her into my arms, her pink dress and white tights picked out by her mom who never wore pink in her life. Ever.

She smiled at me, her white teeth peeking out at me through red lips. “Fire Night is my favorite,” Jett said, looking up at the flickering lanterns lining the driveway.

“You ready to go light some more candles?” I asked.

She nodded. “Can we walk?”

I opened my mouth to tell her no, knowing this wasn’t a quick jaunt, especially with Banks in a long gown and high heels, but…

Her mom tightened her cloak around her and chirped, “Absolutely.”

I set Jett down and took her hand, she and Mads walking between Banks and me as we set off.

My parents’ house was on the opposite side of town from St. Killian’s, and even though the trek would be cold, I wouldn’t complain about getting to enjoy the evening a while longer. I just hoped Banks didn’t sprain an ankle on the way.

The moon glowed overhead as we crossed the street and strolled through the park, more lanterns carving our path with their firelight.

That was the rule tonight. No electric lights.

Not that it was a law or anything we enforced, but everything looked different in the firelight, and I wasn’t sure which one of us set the standard, but everyone seemed to agree it was beautiful.

In no time at all, it was tradition. Once the sun set on the winter solstice, Thunder Bay was lit almost entirely by fire—candles, lanterns, bonfires…

Voices carried on the breeze, the choir at the cathedral singing in the distance and warming the frost in the air and the slumbering roots under our feet.

Gazing left, I saw the fires in the village, much of the town enjoying the festivities and the parade, and slowly, I turned my head, seeing all the flickering flames dotting the town.

Nothing, not even Devil’s Night, was more magical, because tonight was the longest night of the year. It was special.

Snow started falling around us more heavily, and Mads and Jett led the way across the bridge, flakes dotting their black hair.

“Look!” Jett pointed over the edge, out to the river flowing below.

A small tugboat puttered toward us, white lights decorating its exterior, and we all stood there as the kids watched it disappear under the bridge, and then they raced to the other side to see it coming out.

Banks and I stayed, gazing toward the village, beyond which were Cold Point, Deadlow Island, and our resort, Coldfire Inn. The music, the lights, the town dressed in snow… I inhaled long and deep, tightening my arms around her and content to stay in this spot all night.

“I love our life,” she whispered, staring out at the river.

Pressing my lips to her temple, I closed my eyes, feeling it too.

Absolute contentment during these rare moments of calm.

But I sighed, knowing it would take her brother point three seconds to fuck that up tonight.

Michael and Will might take a little longer.

We headed off, crossing the bridge and hiking across the quiet lane over to St. Killian’s, bowls of fire dancing down the long driveway, and torches posted on the house around the perimeter.

Jett’s eyes lit up with excitement.

Rika did it for the kids, but the whole idea behind Fire Night had been Winter’s.

“There’s the boys!” Jett yelled, the snow falling a little heavier.

I nodded, seeing Damon’s kids running around under the canopy of trees off to the side, playing hide-and-seek in the dark.

“Go play,” I told her.

She ran off, hiding behind a trunk, her shiny, black Mary Janes kicking up snow as steam billowed out of her mouth, giving away her position.

Mads climbed the steps and immediately veered up the stairs, his favorite hiding place off to the left.

Banks pressed herself into me, touching her lips to mine and holding it for several seconds. “I need to talk to Em and Rika, okay?”

I nodded, letting her go.

She climbed the spiral staircase, the railing dressed with evergreens and ribbons, and I looked up after her, watching her disappear into the dark gallery above. Then, I reached over and snapped the bud of a rose from the bouquet on the small table and fitted it into my lapel.

No guests had arrived yet, the candelabras still dark and the tree unlit. The kids laughed and screamed outside as the snow fluttered down from the sky, and I walked toward the window to watch them play before all the events of the night began.

But then I heard something above me and looked up, going wide-eyed as I spotted Octavia dangling off the railing overlooking the second floor above.

“Tavi!” I burst out.

Sword in one hand, she hung with the other, her little face etched with anger.

But then she slipped and dropped, and I gasped, shooting out and catching her in my arms. “Oh, shit. What the hell?”

I cradled her, my heart in my fucking throat as I tightened my hold around her small body, my nails digging into her black embroidered pirate coat and leather boots.

I looked down, meeting her scowl. “You okay?”

“I’ll slit your throat, you dog!” And she pressed the plastic blade of her toy sword into my neck.

Oh, Jesus. I rolled my eyes.

I swung her up and tossed her over my shoulder, walking toward the kitchen.

“And you’re definitely your father’s daughter,” I teased.

Zero sense of what could’ve just happened to her. And zero care.

“Let me go!”

“Not a chance,” I retorted. “What were you thinking, huh?”

“I was sneaking up on the vermin!” she explained, trying to squirm and kick out of my hold. “He’s trying to poach me crew!”

I entered the kitchen, sidestepping the caterers, and plopped Octavia down on a side counter, out of the way.

“You need to be careful.” I looked down into her black eyes. “Do you understand?”

She dug in her eyebrows, accentuating the little scar she had over the right eye from a tumble she took when she was two.

“Your parents wouldn’t be happy if you cracked your little skull open.” I walked over to the fridge and plucked out a juice box, slipping the straw in for her. “You dad wouldn’t be able to take it. You know how much everyone loves you?”

“I’m not afraid of anything.”

I stopped and stared at her. That kind of talk could lead down a dark path I knew well.

I walked over, and instead of giving her the juice, I set it down on the counter and planted my palms on either side of her. “Look at me,” I told her. “I know you’re not afraid. But fear and caution are two different things. If anything ever happened to you, your dad wouldn’t survive it. Do you understand that?”