Mila

I waved back at Lucas and hurried to get into the house and out of the cold.

“Come on, Ethan. If you keep standing there, you’re going to turn into a popsicle.”

He moved forward, following me up onto the porch. We stopped at the boot scraper and dragged our soles across it to clear off as much snow as possible.

No point in tracking snow inside of Lucas’ home. No, not just Lucas’s home. My home, too. And Oliver’s. I keep forgetting ...