Page 38 of Falling for the Bombshell (Falling for #1)

Snowfall & Sisterhood

The first snowfall hit just after finals week, blanketing Billings in soft white silence.

But inside Bria ’ s world, everything was loud, cold, and broken.

She sat cross-legged on her bed, phone still in her hand, heart in her throat.

The text thread with her boyfriend had ended in all caps and heartbreak.

It wasn ’ t even a proper breakup—just a slow fade followed by a “ maybe we should just take a break over break.” Translation: I don ’ t want to be with you anymore, but I ’ m too much of a coward to say it out loud.

Bria had never felt so small. So unwanted.

And worst of all—her best friends were all out of town. Ski trips.

Family cruises. A Christmas in Hawaii.

She was stuck.

Alone.

Until Linnie showed up.

It started with a simple knock on her bedroom door and a soft,

“ Hey, kiddo.”

Bria didn ’ t even look up. “ Go away.”

Linnie ignored her. Sat down beside her on the bed and gently took the phone out of her hands.

“ I brought ice cream,” she said. “ And I canceled your brother ’ s plan to take us on some ridiculous date night where we ‘ compare tree lightings like it ’ s the Olympics. ’ You ’ re stuck with me now.”

Bria finally looked over—her lip trembling, mascara smudged, cheeks flushed. “ He didn ’ t even break up with me. He just… ghosted me. After everything.”

“ I know,” Linnie whispered, wrapping an arm around her. “ It sucks. Like, full-body, soul-hurting, scream-into-a-pillow sucks.”

Bria leaned her head on Linnie ’ s shoulder, trying not to cry again. “ You ever been dumped?”

“ Oh yeah,” Linnie said, pulling the pint of ice cream from the bag. “ Once on Christmas Eve. In front of my mom. While I was wearing reindeer antlers.”

Bria sniffled—then laughed. Just a little.

“ You win,” she said.

“ I always do,” Linnie winked.

Then her smile softened, and her voice dropped a little lower.

“ That breakup wrecked me, Bria. JJ and I were together for almost two years. I thought he was it. I ignored a thousand red flags just to keep it alive, and when it ended… it wasn ’ t just losing a boyfriend. It felt like I lost my future.”

Bria looked up, wide-eyed. “ You never told me that.”

Linnie shrugged. “ It was the kind of pain you think you ’ ll never recover from. But guess what?”

“ What?”

“ After that heartbreak, after feeling like I ’ d never love again… I met Blaine.”

She smiled softly, eyes distant with memory.

“ He was kind, and different, and nothing like what I thought I wanted—but everything I didn ’ t know I needed. That breakup with JJ? It cleared the space for me to find my forever.”

Bria was quiet for a long time, the weight of that truth settling over her like a warm blanket.

“ So… you ’ re saying this heartbreak could be making space for something better?” she asked, voice small.

“ I ’ m saying,” Linnie replied, brushing a tear from her cheek, “ you don ’ t even know the kind of love that ’ s coming for you. But it ’ s out there. And when it finds you? You ’ ll be so glad this didn ’ t work out.”

That night, Bria packed a bag and moved into Blaine and Linnie ’ shouse for the rest of Christmas break. They made a plan: no sad music, no ex-stalking, and no pity. Only

movies, comfort food, and healing. Blaine grumbled at first—“She ’ s not stealing my side of the bed, Lin”—but secretly, he loved it.

Watching his little sister light up again, especially when Linnie roped her into baking cookies or made her help pick out matching flannel pajamas for their ‘ Family Christmas Eve Selfie. ’

The snow started falling heavy on the second day of Bria ’ s stay, thick flakes swirling like confetti outside the apartment windows.

School was out, work was slow, and Blaine ’ s practice got canceled due to road conditions.

Which meant one thing: snow day. But not the kind with sledding or snowmen—no, this was the stay- in-your-pajamas kind of snow day.

The best kind. Bria woke up to the sound of Ember barking at the window and the smell of waffles in the air.

She shuffled out to the living room wrapped in one of Blaine ’ s old hoodies, her hair in a messy bun, and blinked at the scene unfolding like a warm hug.

Linnie was cross-legged on the couch in candy cane pajama pants, her face lit up with concentration.

Blaine was yelling at the TV like he was actually in the game, and Daisy was asleep across his feet, drooling on his fuzzy socks.

They were playing Mario Kart. “ You ’ re going down, Linnie!

” Blaine whooped, tilting the controller like it would actually make his character drift faster.

“ You say that every time—and I still beat you every time.” Bria flopped down between them, grabbing a controller.

“ Move over, amateurs. It ’ s time to get schooled . ”

They spent the next few hours in the kind of silly, shouting chaos that only video games can bring. Ember kept trying to chase the flashing cars on the screen. Daisy barked every time Bria won a round. Blaine demanded a rematch so many times Linnie threatened to unplug his controller.

When the pizza delivery guy finally showed up, they cheered like they ’ d just won the Super Bowl.

They ate on the floor, laughing and tossing crusts to the dogs, watching the snow pile up like frosting outside.

Linnie tucked her toes under Blaine ’ s leg, Bria curled up in a blanket with a slice in hand, and for the first time in weeks—maybe longer—there was no sadness. No ache. Just this.

Warmth. Light. Family.

After dinner, Linnie put on a classic Christmas movie— Home Alone , because Bria insisted.

Ember snored loudly under the coffee table, and Blaine fake-gasped at every booby trap like it was the first time he ’ d ever seen it.

Bria didn ’ t even realize she was smiling until Linnie nudged her with a soft, knowing look.

“ You okay?” she whispered. Bria nodded.

“ Yeah. I think I am.” She wasn ’ t healed.

Not fully. But today? Today she remembered what love could feel like when it wasn ’ t twisted or conditional.

When it wasn ’ t performative or disappointing.

When it was simple. Safe. Real. And in that cozy little house, wrapped in blankets and laughter, Bria let herself believe again.

Not just in herself—but in the idea that maybe, just maybe, she ’ d be okay.

And on Christmas morning, Bria woke up sandwiched between Ember and Daisy on the pull-out couch, the smell of cinnamon rolls in the air and laughter spilling in from the kitchen. It wasn ’ t perfect. But it felt safe. It felt like home.

Later, when Blaine handed her a gift with her name on it in Linnie ’ s handwriting—just a simple journal, but with the words You ’ re stronger than you think written inside the cover—Bria burst into tears.

“ Don ’ t tell anyone I cried,” she warned as she hugged Linnie tight.

“ Wouldn ’ t dream of it,” Linnie whispered, kissing her forehead.

“ But just so you know… if he couldn ’ t see your worth, he didn ’ t deserve you in the first place.

” Bria didn ’ t say anything. She didn ’ t have to.

Because somehow, in the middle of her worst heartbreak, she ’ d found something even better.

Family. Real, honest-to-God family.