seventeen: winter walk

*

It took a while for things to settle down after Gray's announcement. Breakfast turned into a mix of a quickfire quiz – When did they find out? (Two week ago.) When's it due? (Start of August.) Was it planned? (Surprisingly, yes.) – and an emotional mess, when Jen cried and that made Navya cry so of course Gray ended up in tears. Even Tad got teary-eyed when Gray teased him about how he'll be a grandad before he's forty-five.

I don't know what the plan was for today – if there was one, it's gone out the window now. After breakfast, Jen whisked Navya away to a coffee shop for a ladies' talk and Tad and Gray went for a walk together so Storie and I have ended up on Jasper duty. He's very easily amused. There's not much to it.

"I can't believe it," Storie says as she digs out a coat and wraps a scarf around her neck. We're heading to the beach, because what else do you do in thirty-degree weather? "I mean, I kind of can, considering everything I've walked in on them doing." She laughs. "But wow. They're going to be parents. That's just ... wow."

"You're gonna be an auntie," I say as I wrestle Jasper's feet into boots that he's struggling to wrangle on his own. "Hey, Jaz, you're gonna be an uncle!"

"Aw," Storie coos as she rifles through a box of hats and gloves to find a pair that'll fit her brother's hands. She comes up with a pair of mini mittens and says, "Such a tiny little uncle."

"I'm a big boy!" he argues, holding his hands up so Storie can put the gloves on for him.

"Okay, well, big boys wear hats and scarves because it's pretty freaking chilly out there, so wrap up," she says, handing him a scarf. I've borrowed one of hers, her scent wrapped around my neck, and I pull on a fur-lined hat. Because I'm a big boy too.

*

It's fucking freezing outside. It must be five degrees colder by the water than it was at the house because the air feels like icicles, every breeze dragging its knuckles across my cheeks like nails on a chalkboard, and I can barely talk, my teeth are chattering so hard.

"Why did we come here, again?" I ask, trying to take the smallest steps possible along the sand so my legs can keep each other warm. I was walking hand in hand with Storie, until Jasper decided he wanted to walk between us and hold both our hands, so we look like a family right now.

"Because it's good to get fresh air," Storie says through clenched teeth, her shoulders hunched to ward off the cold. "And Jaz wanted to come to the beach." She looks down at her little brother. "Why did you want to come to the beach in this weather, Jaz?"

"I like the beach!" he cries out, throwing his hands up. Storie snags the opportunity to swoop him into a cuddle, stealing the warmth of his little body for herself.

"Two more minutes," she says, "and then we're going home and making hot chocolate."

Even two minutes sounds too long. I'm sure my balls have shrunk back into my body and my nipples are frozen and I know it's not that cold, respectively, but I'm built for warmth. Give me ninety degrees over this shit, any day.

When Storie lets Jasper down, he finds a stick and delights in drawing in the sand. I sidle close to her, slipping my arm around her waist, and lean down to press my cheek to hers. She laughs.

"I get it, it's cold," she says, lacing her gloved fingers with mine.

"This was a terrible idea."

"At least the house will feel a million degrees warmer when we get back," she says, rubbing her cheek against mine before turning her head to kiss me, turning her body to hug me.

Jasper squeals. "Me too!" he cries out, muscling in on our hug. He squeezes himself between our bodies and we sandwich him there like we're penguins and he's an egg, and he giggles. He's a very giggly kid, all smiles and laughs. The total opposite to young Storie, apparently. That fits – I've seen pictures of her as a kid, and she looks like a quiet, shy kid in every single one. Every photo of Jasper shows a little grinning maniac, with Storie's dark eyes and Gray's sticky-out ears; Tad's hair and Jen's smile.

When we pull apart, he goes back to his beachcombing, ducking down every time he sees a shell – he keeps stuffing them in his pockets, his puffy coat overflowing with random beach debris. Storie's already pulled him away from sandy trash a few times, and I caught his arm just in time before he reached for a crushed beer can. Jen might not be so forgiving of me if her son ended up in the emergency department on my watch.

We wander for longer than two minutes, hands stuffed deep in pockets, until the pale grey sky starts to darken with the telltale hue of an oncoming storm.

"Okay, Jazzy Pear, time to go home now. We don't want to get caught in the rain." Storie holds out her hand to him and after a moment's pouting, he acquiesces and lifts his hand up to me. I take it and he holds on tight.

For a moment – my brain is full of Gray and Nav and their impending parenthood – I let my brain trick itself into thinking this could be Storie and me someday. We could be walking along a beach with our own child. It should be a terrifying thought. But it isn't.

It feels kind of ... inevitable.

God damn it, I am so ridiculously in love with this girl.

I must be staring at her all doe-eyed because she tilts her head at me and says, "What?"

"I love you," I say, and her confusion morphs into soft delight. I wonder if she's thinking the same thing. I can't help but wonder if she ever imagines a future the way I do, if she lets herself ponder the possibility that we're the real deal. We are forever.

"Love you too," she says.

"I love you all!" Jasper says, hopping and skipping and tugging on our arms. "I love Christmas!"

"How many days until Christmas, Jaz?" Storie asks. He frowns, deep in thought.

"Two?"

I laugh. Poor kid's in for a shock. Storie chuckles. She could tell him that it's more like three hundred and sixty-something, but she doesn't. She just ruffles his thick hair and tells him it's close enough.

*

When we get back, almost an hour after we left, Tad and Gray have returned and even though it isn't even midday yet, Tad's got a log fire going already. Storie goes to the kitchen to make hot chocolate and I head straight for the fire once I've shed my shoes and all my extra layers, shivering as I hold out my hands.

"I don't recommend the beach at this time of year," I say when Gray looks up at me.

"It's a bit chilly for that, isn't it?" Tad grins at Jasper and helps him out of his coat. "Did you have a fun time?"

"I love the beach!" Jasper says again, though his face is flushed red from the cold and his nose is running. When Tad finally gets the coat off him, all of the shells spill out onto the carpet in front of the fireplace, along with what looks like a couple fistfuls of sand.

Tad sighs. He shakes his head to himself. "What do you plan to do with all this, huh, buddy?" Judging by his tone, he isn't annoyed.

"I wanna save the shells," Jasper says. "Don't throw them out!"

"I won't, I won't. But you need to clean this up before Mommy gets back, okay? Can you pick out the shells you want?"

Jasper's a very obedient kid. He does exactly what he's told, crouching down to pick out each of the little shells that look like unicorn horns, and Tad shakes the sand off the rug into the fire.

I take a seat on the sofa across from Gray, who's looking a bit distracted. No surprises there. "How're you feeling?" I ask him. "You're looking a bit shell-shocked."

"It hasn't hit me yet, I don't think," he says with a laugh, running a hand through his hair. "We talked about having kids before we got married, and a few months ago we decided there's no time like the present to start trying. We just weren't expecting success so quickly.

Tad lets out a dry laugh and, nodding at Jasper, says, "Ono men are very fertile."

Gray cringes. "Dad."

"What can I say?" Tad laughs and nods at Gray, then Jasper. "I've got two prime examples right here."

"Ugh, Dad. That's enough, really. That's not how grandfathers talk, and your gonna be a granddad before you know it."

"That's so wild," I murmur. "As if you're having a kid. You're going to be a dad."

"I know. Crazy. Insane." A laugh bubbles out of Gray and he says, "To be honest, I still can't quite believe Nav's my wife. As if we made a baby. I mean ... how? I feel like it should be harder than it was."

I snort and hold back a joke, and Tad looks like he's about to say something when Storie comes back in with drinks for everyone loaded up on a tray, and as she sets them down, the front door opens and Jen and Navya return.

"So, parents to be," I say once everyone's here and Navya's sitting next to Gray, her tiny body curled against his under his arm. "How ready are you?"

The two of them share a look and Navya rolls her eyes when Gray ask, "What's the scale?"

"Oh, one to ten, of course. You're the only scale master around here."

"Okay ... well, let's see. There are so many stages of being ready for a baby," Gray says, tapping his chin. "Emotionally, financially, physically..." He pulls Navya closer, stroking her upper arm, and purses his lips. "I don't know about you, Nav, but I feel like we're at a solid six out of ten with regard to readiness."

Navya chokes on a laugh. "That's a bit optimistic, babe. I was thinking, like, one. If that. Maybe something in the negatives."

"Don't underestimate yourself, sweetheart," Jen says, her tone a soothing balm. "Nobody ever feels ready for their first child. I even raised Kris like he was my own for eleven years, and I still wasn't ready for Storie." She reaches out and rubs Storie's arm. "You learn on the job. It's the only way to do it." Her eyes drop to Jasper, who's about to lick one of his beach shells, and with a laugh she says, "I'm still learning."

Storie rests her head on my shoulder, her forehead warming the crook of my neck. I take a sip of the hot chocolate she made and it warms me from the inside out, heat radiating through my body to combat the bitter winter chill. That warmth only grows when Jasper decides our sofa is the best place to be, and he worms his way between us, sitting half on my lap and half on Storie's.

When Jen smiles at us and our eyes meet and she doesn't drop the smile, the warmth hits its peak. I feel accepted. Part of this family.

*

It's almost midnight by the time we make it up to Storie's room, after a long dinner – Gray cooked surprisingly well and only needed help with the oven twice – followed by a movie that Tad chose. I can hardly keep my eyes open, flopping onto Storie's bed once I've undressed down to my underwear – the heating's been on all day so it's plenty warm enough in here.

"Their baby will be so cute," I say as Storie tugs off her sweater.

"Those are some beautiful genes," she agrees as she takes off hers, pulling on a pair of pajama pants. "I think ours would be cuter, though."

I open my eyes at that. So the thought has crossed her mind too? "You reckon?" I sit up, my legs dangling over the edge of the bed.

"Oh, yeah." She turns around and leans over me and presses her thumbs into my cheeks. "With these dimples," she says, and brushes her thumb over my mouth, "and these lips? That'd be one cute baby."

I catch her wrists and pull her down, so she's kneeling either side of my hips, hovering over me. "With your hair," I say, raking a hand through her incredible hair, so long and dark, "and your flawless skin." My hands drop to her waist and I pull her closer, so we're chest to chest as she straddles me. "Yeah, that'd be cute as fuck."

She cups my chin in her hand and her eyes are alight, and she kisses me. Long and deep. Enough to take my breath away. When she leans back, she says, "All in good time, Mr Alexander. All in good time."

The air in here is electrified. And then she gets up to take off her bra and tug on a t-shirt, and when she pulls her hair out from under the collar and starts separating it into three strands to braid it, I hold up a hand.

"Can I?"

I used to love playing with her hair. She has so much of it and it's so soft and silky, so satisfying to plait or just coil around my fingers.

"Okay." Storie hands me a hair tie from around her wrist and sits on the edge of the bed, and I sit cross-legged behind her, using my fingers to tease out the tangles woven by the wind. She lets out a sigh and I can see her reflection in the mirror; I see the way her eyes droop as I brush her hair before plaiting it. A minute in, she puts gentle music on, the volume way down low so it murmurs in the background like a lullaby.

"Who's this?" I ask. It's a slow, meandering piano track, the perfect soundtrack to sleep.

"Minette Martin," she says, yawning around the words. "This is my good night's sleep playlist."

"I think I'm gonna be asleep as soon as my head hits the pillow." I secure the end of the plait and smooth it down Storie's back. "All done."

"Mmm. Thank you." She yawns again and drags herself to her side of the bed, and my body sags into the mattress when I lie down on the other side, pulling the covers up to my chin.

There's nothing like that feeling of getting into a warm bed at the end of a cold day, exchanging numb toes for toasty comfort. It's even better with her by my side, her sleepy fingers landing on my hip when I roll onto my side to face her.

Neither of us say a word. Nothing needs to be said.

*

sorry for the delay folks! this chapter did not want to be written, so i'm sorry that it's a bit lacklustre but i had to power on through. hopefully the next will come easier!