"Hey, you're spending Christmas with me this year," Lieselotte said, kicking at the loose snow beneath her feet, watching it scatter into the cold air. She stole a glance at Katelynn, bundled up in a red scarf, the color vivid against the pale winter light.
There was something about that scarf—how it sat slightly crooked on Katelynn's neck—that made Lieselotte's chest ache, a reminder of how easily she could lose herself in the smallest details of her.
"If you want me to," Katelynn whispered. Her voice was soft, like the kind of breath that could melt the sharpest winter chill. That warmth seemed to slip beneath Lieselotte's collar, creeping along her skin, and without warning, a shiver ran down her spine, curling at the base of her neck.
