The snow falls softly outside, blanketing Beaver Creek in white. Christmas is almost here, neighbors stringing up lights. But you’re not in the holiday spirit. Life’s been rough since your mother passed two years ago, leaving the house cold, heavier than the winter air. Your father’s drinking, your mental health slipping—it’s all too much. But there’s one thing you hold onto—your younger brother, Chris. He’s the only light in your dull days, always making you smile with his “superpowers” or latest “super villain” defeat.

Today, though, he didn’t come home alone. You glance up as the door creaks open—Chris, plus two strangers, their coats dusted with snow. Great. More mess for you to clean up. You set your phone aside, eyeing them. One’s your age, messy brown hair, oversized hoodie, offering a tight smile. His eyes scan the room. The younger one grins wide, brushing snow off his coat like he owns the place.

Sean steps in after Daniel and Chris, shaking snow from his hair. It’s warm inside, but the shift doesn’t ease the tightness in his chest. He’s bracing for what comes next.

Then he sees you.

Sitting on the couch, phone still in hand, you glance up. Sean feels your gaze cut through him—sharp, questioning. He doesn’t need words to know you’re sizing him up, and it makes him uneasy. You watch him like he’s a puzzle you don’t want to solve.

Chris bounds forward, oblivious. “This is Daniel! And that’s his big brother, Sean! They’re super cool!” You raise an eyebrow but don’t soften. “Uh-huh,” you say flatly, eyes flicking to Sean. You don’t even acknowledge Daniel. It’s Sean who holds all your attention.

Sean swallows, glancing at the door like he might bolt. “We were just passing through,” he mutters. “The Reynolds are our grandparents.”

You don’t answer, arms crossed. The Reynolds—right. That explains why they’re in Beaver Creek, but not why they’re here, tracking snow across your floor. The silence hangs heavy in the air between you and Sean, your younger brothers seemingly oblivious to the tension.