Page 105 of These Wicked Hearts

“Not yet. Now shh, we’re having a moment.” Atlas watches me then tilts his face to the sky. Eyes closed, he sticks out his tongue, and he smiles as snowflakes dust his lashes.

“I’m cold.”

“Got to move and get warm. Let’s build a snowman.”

“I’m not building a snowman.”

Atlas ignores me, grabbing a shovel and piling snow into a heap. “We have to think aesthetics. What kind of snow person are we building? What does he do for a living? Is he magic? Oh, a snow wizard would be awesome.”

“Atlas I’m not building a snowman.”

“Why are you such a hater? Come on, Gage. Help me build this snow creature. I want him to be majestic, but with kind eyes.”

I watch him push snow into an odd shape I’m assuming has to be the base. It’s lumpy, no structural integrity at all. “That thing will collapse.”

“It has personality.”

“And structural issues.”

“You have structural issues.”

“Excuse me, there is nothing wrong with my structure.”

Atlas grins like the devil. “I know that’s right.” Heat pours into my stomach, and he grins wider. “Come on,” he whines. “Help.”

How can someone be so sexy one minute and so annoying the next?

I give in, crouching down to help him push snow into a shape. When he’s satisfied with the base, he piles more snow for the center. It’s a little lopsided but not terrible.

Atlas puts his hat on top of his head. “Don’t want him to get cold.”

“Isn’t that their preferred state?”

“How amazing does it look?”

“Acceptable.” As I gather more snow to pack around the base, so this monstrosity doesn’t collapse during the night, snow explodes against my shoulder.

Slowly, I turn around and see Atlas there with another snowball. “You didn’t.”

He scoffs. “Uh, yeah, I did.” He tosses the ball in his hand, then he crouches, packing more snow between his gloves, his tongue poking out in concentration. “Come on, Gage. Live a little.”

“I am living a nightmare.”

Another snowball hits me in the chest. My lips purse as I inhale.

That fucker.

I bend down, gathering snow and quickly packing it into something with more structural integrity than that snowman. Atlas laughs, running, as I aim poorly and attempt to hit him. I catch him on his back. “You ass. Stay still. I don’t sport, Atlas. I’m not athletic.”

Atlas packs more snow, flinging two as I dive behind the snowman and block his shots. “Hey, no fair! He is not a human shield!”

I pack more snow, ignoring him, and stand, flinging it fast.

Hitting Atlas square in the face.

We stand there in silence as Atlas’s eyes widen. “Oh shit, I’m—” I squeal as he grabs me and throws me over his shoulder, spanking my ass. “Stop,” I laugh. He trips and we fall with a thud into the snow. He’s laughing so hard. Snow blankets his black hair, the streetlights and moon above shining down on his face. He lies flat on his back, sticking his tongue out and tasting the falling snow. I roll onto my side to watch him. I wish I loved anything the way Atlas loves things.

He lolls his head toward me. “This is fun. Admit it.”