Chapter Text
The snow started falling halfway up the mountain road, soft and soundless, like a lullaby. It should have been peaceful—white dust settling on pine branches, a frozen lake gleaming just beyond the trees—but Agatha’s grip on the steering wheel had been tightening for the last ten minutes.
“Please tell me that’s not it,” she muttered as the GPS announced their arrival.
Next to her, Rio leaned forward in the passenger seat with wide eyes and a hand pressed to the window.
“Oh, it’s perfect.”
The cottage sat nestled between tall pines at the end of a narrow gravel road, dusted in white like it had been dipped in sugar. The wood siding had faded with time, and the porch railing leaned a little to one side, but the windows glowed warmly behind sheer curtains, and smoke curled from a modest brick chimney. It wasn’t modern. But it was quiet, tucked away, and utterly removed from the world.
Agatha stared.
“It’s tiny.”
“It’s cozy.”
“It has one heater,” Agatha said, tapping the listing on her phone. “And no central air.”
“It has a fireplace,” Rio countered, already unbuckling. “And it’s ours for the weekend.”
Agatha stepped out, boots crunching through the snow. The cold bit at her immediately, and she huffed. “This is what I get for letting you book things based on the vibe of a bird you saw in a dream.”
“Laugh all you want,” Rio said, grinning. “That bird has never let me down.”
They made their way up the porch steps, which creaked but held firm. Rio unlocked the door and pushed it open with a proud little flourish.
The inside was simple but sweet—open beams overhead, a pair of soft armchairs near the fire, a tiny kitchen with a wood counter and mismatched mugs. A quilt hung over the back of a worn couch. The floorboards were old, the kind that creaked when you walked, but the place smelled like cedar and cinnamon.
Agatha stood in the doorway, unimpressed.
“It’s... rustic.”
“It’s charming.”
“It’s going to be cold.”
Rio threw her bag down by the couch and spun around with a grin. “C’mon, you love a dramatic setting. This place is begging for an emotional breakthrough.”
“I was hoping for a strong wifi signal and functional insulation.”
Rio moved to the kitchen and began filling a kettle with water. The faucet let out a high-pitched groan. Agatha arched a brow.
“You hear that, right?”
“It adds character,” Rio said.
“Character won’t keep us warm when the power goes out.”
“It won’t,” Rio said confidently. “You’re catastrophizing.”
“I’m experienced,” Agatha shot back, shrugging off her coat. “You have a history of underestimating how freezing you get at night.”
Rio smirked, then wandered back over to her, brushing snow from Agatha’s sleeve. “You’ll keep me warm.”
Agatha’s frown softened just slightly. But only slightly.
“You know, I don’t remember agreeing to this.”
“You said you wanted somewhere quiet,” Rio said, looping her arms gently around Agatha’s waist. “Somewhere away from all the city drama. No distractions. Just you and me.”
“I meant a hotel with a fireplace and soundproof walls.”
“I heard ‘cottage in the woods.’ You weren’t clear.”
Agatha pulled back with a sigh and moved toward the fireplace. “Fine. Just... let me light this before we both freeze to death.”
Rio smiled behind her. “See? I knew you’d come around.”
An hour later, they’d unpacked, lit the fireplace, and managed to sit in relative peace. But the truce was short-lived.
Agatha stood in front of the kitchen shelf, arms folded tight. “There’s no peppermint tea.”
Rio glanced up from the floor, where she was trying to coax warmth into the heater with what looked like blind optimism and a coat hanger. “So?”
“So? So I asked you to bring some. I wrote it down. It was on the list, Rio.”
“I brought chamomile.”
“I hate chamomile.”
“You don’t hate it, you just hate being given something you didn’t personally select.”
Agatha narrowed her eyes. “Excuse me for having standards.”
Rio stood up slowly, brushing dust off her knees. “God forbid a weekend without imported tea ruins your rustic aesthetic.”
“It’s not about the tea,” Agatha snapped. “It’s about you never listening when I tell you what matters to me.”
That one hung in the air a second too long.
Rio’s smile dropped. “You think I don’t listen to you?”
“You listen to what you want to hear. Everything else gets filtered through whatever weird daydream logic you operate on.”
Rio’s jaw tensed, but she laughed—a single, brittle sound. “Right. Because heaven forbid I try to do something fun and spontaneous without your official stamp of approval.”
“Fun and spontaneous doesn’t mean thoughtless.”
“Oh, come on,” Rio said, throwing her arms up. “You’re mad because I didn’t pack a box of leaf water.”
“It’s not the tea!” Agatha shouted.
Silence.
Rio blinked. Agatha turned away, biting down on her next words.
After a long moment, Rio crossed the room, grabbed the keys from the counter, and said, “Fine. I’ll go get your damn tea.”
Agatha turned back, scowling. “Don’t be dramatic.”
“I’m not,” Rio said, voice too light. “I’m just—what did you call it? Thoughtless and weird? I should lean into my strengths.”
“Rio.”
“I’ll be back soon.”
Agatha opened her mouth again, but Rio was already at the door. She paused just long enough to grab her jacket, then gave Agatha a tight smile.
“You stay warm.”
And with that, she slipped out into the cold.
Inside, the fire crackled. Wind scratched at the windows. And Agatha stood staring at the closed door, arms crossed tight against her chest—pretending she didn’t immediately regret every word.
The nearest town was a twenty minute drive down winding mountain roads—longer with the snow coming in heavier now, lazy flakes thickening into a steady white curtain. Rio didn’t mind. The cold didn’t bother her the way it did Agatha. There was something grounding about the way it settled into her bones. Like it made her more real.
The gas station convenience store wasn’t much, but it had peppermint tea. A dusty little box wedged between sleepy herbal blends. She grabbed it with a grin and tossed it into the basket.
Then she wandered.
She found a ridiculous ceramic mug with a scowling cartoon witch and the phrase Resting Hex Face on the front. She laughed out loud in the aisle, imagined Agatha pretending to be offended while secretly loving it, and added it to the haul.
Then socks. Thick wool ones in a deep violet color. Agatha was always cold, no matter how many layers she wore. Rio liked to tease her for it, but she also liked keeping her warm.
By the time she checked out, her basket looked more like a care package than a peace offering.
Back on the road, the sky had dimmed to blue-grey and the snow was sticking more. Rio drove slowly, fingers tapping to a song on the radio that barely came through the static. Her thoughts wandered—mostly to Agatha. The fight had stung more than it should’ve. She knew she hadn’t planned things perfectly. She knew Agatha liked control, liked things just so. But this was supposed to be time away from all that.
They were supposed to be resting.
She was halfway up the mountain road when she spotted the car on the shoulder.
A compact hatchback, hazard lights blinking, a figure kicking at one of the tires.
She pulled over without thinking.
As she stepped out, the cold slapped her, sharper now. “You okay?” she called.
The figure turned—a teenage boy, maybe sixteen or seventeen, bundled in a coat two sizes too big.
“I think it’s the engine,” he said. “It just started smoking and then died. I don’t think it’s the tire but—God, I dunno, I was just trying to get to my aunt’s.”
Rio popped her trunk and came around to the front. “Pop the hood.”
The kid hesitated, then did.
“Okay,” Rio muttered, peering inside like she’d done it a hundred times. “Looks like your coolant hose popped. Might’ve overheated and shut off to protect itself.”
The kid stared at her. “How do you know that?”
“I have a long history of beating the crap out of old cars,” she said, already rolling up her sleeves. “And I dated a mechanic in my early teens. A very loud one.”
She managed to adjust the hose with the help of a screwdriver and a prayer. It was temporary, but safe enough to get him to the next stop.
“Try it now.”
The engine sputtered, coughed, and turned over.
The kid let out a stunned laugh. “Holy crap. You’re like—an actual snowstorm wizard.”
Rio winked. “I’ll take that.”
She was walking back to her car, hands numb but spirits higher, when it happened.
A sound—metal on snow, tires sliding.
She turned just in time to see headlights too fast, too close, and skidding.
The impact came hard and sharp.
Then everything was snow and black and silence.