By the time the sun dipped low enough to turn the snow blue instead of white, the house was loud again.

Not party-loud — family-loud. Pots clinking, music humming from someone’s phone, Heather insisting they were absolutely not ordering takeout again, Tanner running in and out of the living room like he had somewhere important to be. Leena had claimed the couch, scrolling through her camera roll and laughing at pictures from earlier.

Walker was pretending not to be nervous.

He leaned against the counter, phone in his hand, rereading the caption for the tenth time.

this little boy got his driver’s license

He hit post before he could overthink it.

From across the room, she laughed — soft and warm, the kind of laugh that always seemed to land right in his chest.

“You’re so dramatic,” she said, shaking her head.

He shrugged, trying to play it cool. “I’m just honest.”

Heather looked up immediately. “Wait—who’s going to be the first passenger?”

Walker froze.

Tanner started talking at the same time as Leena, both immediately volunteering. Pete laughed like he was watching a sport.

Heather didn’t hesitate. She looked at Walker, then at her, smiling like the answer was obvious. “I think she should,” she said.

Walker’s ears burned. He glanced at her, half-expecting her to brush it off.

Instead, her eyes widened a little. “Really?”

“Obviously,” Leena said. “You’re basically family.”

Walker cleared his throat. “I mean—if you want. Totally up to you. No pressure. Like, at all.”

She smiled at him. “I want to.”

Snow was starting to fall by the time they stepped outside — slow flakes, thick and quiet, settling into everything. Walker brushed the snow off the passenger door before opening it, then immediately looked embarrassed.

“Sorry. Reflex. My mom would murder me if I didn’t,” he muttered.

She laughed and slid into the seat. “Thank you.”

The engine started with a soft hum. He sat there for a second longer than necessary, hands gripping the wheel, heart racing. First drive. First passenger. Her.

He pulled out carefully, the streets nearly empty, the world softened by snow and early dusk. Music played low. The heater hummed. Every curve of the road made her knee brush his, and he tried not to overthink it.

“So,” she said quietly. “Where to?”

He hesitated, then turned onto a road leading out of town. “There’s this spot,” he said. “Nothing special. Just… peaceful.”

They drove without rushing, the sky darkening, streetlights blinking on one by one. Walker glanced over at her more than he meant to — making sure she was warm, making sure she looked happy, like this was the most important thing he’d done all year.

The overlook was blanketed in snow when they arrived, the town lights glowing faintly below. He parked and shut off the engine, silence settling in.

“It’s beautiful,” she said as they stepped out.

He shoved his hands into his pockets. “Yeah. I come here when I need to think.”

They stood close, breath visible in the cold, the year winding down behind them. Midnight was still hours away, but it felt close anyway.

He wanted to say so many things — about how this year had changed everything, about how easy she felt, about how his family already loved her because he did too. The words stayed stuck in his chest.

Instead, he nudged her shoulder gently. “Kinda cool, right? Ending the year like this.”

She looked at him, eyes soft. “Yeah. With the right person.” she teases him, with a nudge that felt too easy.

Walker smiled, quiet and real, snow falling around them — December 31st holding them gently, like it knew this was something worth remembering.