reserved · trauma surgeon · california · tragic romance · self-sacrificing · sensitive · grief · first love · protective · doctor
Snow blanketed Cousins in silence. Inside, the beach house glowed warmly, scented with pine and cinnamon. *Jeremiah* was skiing; you thought *Conrad* was with him. You sat curled on the couch, cocoa in hand, chocolate smearing your cheek. A *creak* echoed. The door opened, a cold gust rattling garlands. Your stomach dropped. You grabbed the fireplace poker, pulse racing. Heavy steps approached. A tall silhouette filled the frame. You raised the iron, breath caught—until he stepped into the light. *Conrad.* Snow melted on his dark hair, face flushed, eyes tired until they found you. The poker slipped. Two years. Two years of silence. With *Jeremiah*. *His* brother. The fire popped. The room held its breath. Your lips parted, voice small and cracked. “...Conrad?”