The only question was how many pieces he'd be in when it was over. He succumbed. Morning came slowly. Lucas woke to gray light filtering through the curtains and the smell of coffee drifting up from downstairs. Victoria's side of the bed was empty, blankets pushed back.
He sat up, running a hand through his hair. His phone said 7:43 a.m. Early, but not unreasonably so. Downstairs, he found his mother and Eleanor in the kitchen, chatting over coffee and pancakes. No sign of Victoria or his father. Morning, Margaret said brightly.
Sleep well? Fine. A lie, but a polite one. Pancakes are on the stove, help yourself. Your father and Richard went to check the generator, power's been flickering.
Victoria's out front, I think. Lucas poured coffee and took it to the window. She was there, standing in the snow, arms wrapped around herself, staring out at the white landscape. She looked small against the storm, vulnerable. He grabbed his jacket and went outside.
The cold hit like a punch. Lucas zipped up and trudged through knee-deep snow to where Victoria stood. She didn't turn around. Couldn't sleep? Not really.
You? No. They stood side by side, not looking at each other. I forgot how quiet it gets after a storm, Victoria said. Everything muffled.
Yeah. When I was a kid, I used to love snow days. No school, just peace. Lucas remembered that. Remembered her showing up at his apartment in college covered in snow, dragging him outside to build a snowman at 2:00 in the morning because she couldn't sleep and needed to do something.
He didn't mention it. Victoria. Don't. She turned to face him. Her eyes were red.
Please don't. Don't what? Whatever you were about to say, I can't Her voice cracked. I'm barely holding it together, Lucas. So, please, just don't.
He wanted to reach for her. Wanted to pull her close and tell her it would be okay. But he had no right. So, he nodded. Okay.
She walked past him back toward the cabin. Lucas stayed outside alone in the snow and wondered when everything had gotten so broken. The cabin felt smaller by the hour. Lucas spent the rest of the morning doing anything that kept him away from Victoria. He helped his father clear snow from the porch.
He played board games with Mia in the loft. He even volunteered to chop firewood despite the fact that there was already a cord stacked against the side of the house. Anything to avoid being in the same room as her. But the cabin wasn't big enough for that kind of avoidance. Every time he turned a corner, there she was.
Reading on the couch, helping Eleanor in the kitchen, standing at the window with that faraway look that meant she was thinking about things she didn't want to share. By noon, the tension was thick enough to cut. All right, everyone, Margaret announced, clapping her hands together. I think we need some activity. All this sitting around is making us stir-crazy."
Richard looked up from his book. "What did you have in mind?" "Games, charades, maybe, or Pictionary?" Eleanor smiled. "I haven't played Pictionary in years."
"Then it's settled." Margaret was already pulling boxes from a cabinet. "Teams of two." "Let's see. Richard and I, Eleanor and Mia, which leaves Lucas and Victoria."
Lucas's stomach dropped. "Mom, I don't think Oh, come on, it'll be fun." Victoria set down her coffee. Her expression was carefully blank. "I'm not really in the mood for games."
"Neither am I." Lucas said quickly. Margaret's smile dimmed. "You two are being awfully difficult. It's just a game." "Let them be, Margaret."
Eleanor said gently. "If they don't want to play, they're adults. They can handle one game together." Margaret's tone had shifted. Less cheerful hostess, more steel-spined mother.
"Unless there's some reason you can't." The question hung there, sharp and pointed. Lucas felt his father's eyes on him. Eleanor's, too. Everyone watching, waiting for an answer that wouldn't give away too much.
"Fine." Victoria said. "One game." Lucas nodded. "Sure."
They set up at the dining table, whiteboard propped on a chair, markers ready, timer set. Richard and Margaret went first. They were terrible, arguing over whether a circle was supposed to be a wheel or a planet or the moon. Mia found this hilarious. Then Eleanor and Mia.
They were better, but Mia's drawings looked like abstract art, which made guessing nearly impossible. "A horse." Eleanor guessed. "No, it's a car." "That's a car?"
"Yeah, see the wheels?" More laughter. Then it was Lucas and Victoria's turn. Victoria drew first. She grabbed a card from the pile, glanced at it, then started sketching.
Fast, confident lines. A building, windows, a door. House, Lucas said immediately. She added a flag on top. Post office.
She nodded and drew a new image. A person, a bag. Mailman. Another nod. A clock.
Time. Mail time, delivery. She circled the whole drawing. Mail delivery service. Ding.
The timer went off. Six points, Margaret cheered. Well done. Lucas picked up the marker. His card read wedding.
Of course it did. He drew a church, stick figures, a dress. Wedding, Victoria said flatly. That was it. 30 seconds in and they'd already won the round.
Richard whistled. You two are good at this. We've played before, Victoria said, then seemed to regret it immediately. Margaret's eyes sharpened. When?
College, Lucas said quickly. Same university, we knew some of the same people. Not a lie. Just not the whole truth. They played three more rounds.
Each time Lucas and Victoria won without effort. They didn't need to discuss strategy or debate meanings. They just knew. The same wavelength they'd always been on, still there after 7 years. It should have felt good.
Instead, it felt like torture. After the fourth win, Victoria stood abruptly. I need some air. She grabbed her coat and walked out before anyone could respond. Lucas sat there, marker still in his hand, feeling like he'd just failed a test he didn't know he was taking.
She's intense, Richard said mildly. Eleanor, you raised quite a firecracker. Eleanor smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. Victoria's always been driven, single-minded when she wants something. Takes after her mother then.