Page 30 of Let It Snow (Eden’s Omegaverse #7)

"You don’t understand what this is. It’s not something I can fully control. My power—it’s destructive. I can blow everything apart down to atoms. What if I lose it and hurt someone?"

Bay doesn’t look fazed at all, as if my words don’t leave the slightest impression. He tips his head back against the couch and exhales a few rings of vapor toward the ceiling.

"That still doesn’t sound all that dark to me, Summer, unless you do it. But if you’re afraid of it, that’s already the first step toward keeping control. Trust me, there are things in this world that are nothing but dark."

Something in his voice carries a weight that makes me look at him more intently.

I want to ask what he means, but I don’t feel strong enough to push further.

Forcing my energy to flow harder during this whole conversation is taking its toll.

My head is bloated, and the world around me feels heavy, folding in on itself.

Away from Snow and his calming touch, everything turns hazy, rough, painful.

Why? Why did that damn Theo have to show up and ruin it all? Knocked up, really?

Bay continues,

"Imagine living constantly in negative energy. Imagine being cracked open inside. Is that you?" He exhales another stream of smoke into the air. The air is already quite heavy with it.

I nod eagerly, but he only scoffs.

"I doubt it. I think you’ve got a different issue, one that can be healed if you open yourself up to it."

I can’t shake the feeling he’s talking about himself, that the broken one he’s describing is actually him. I study his impassive face, not sure what to say.

On impulse, I type on his phone screen:

"You’re supposed to be famous. I’ll admit I don’t know much about you, but why are you still living here in this tiny house on your parents’ lot? Don’t you have a boyfriend? I’m sure there’s a line of fans waiting to date you."

He lets out a sharp, bitter sound, almost a laugh but not quite.

"For such a shy, quiet guy, you sure are nosy."

But he doesn’t give me an answer.

Caught in a rare wave of curiosity, I push further and type:

"Is there a basement under the floor? It looked like you were training or something."

He shrugs.

"You could call it that. You could call it a," he raises his hands in the air and makes quotation marks, "basement." He lets out another dry little laugh.

Whatever that means.

My gaze drifts over his black athletic shirt, the way the thick muscles shift beneath the fabric. He clearly pushes himself hard in training.

What surprises me is that even though he’s objectively very attractive, I feel no pull toward him, not even the faintest spark of sexual interest. On the contrary, it’s like there’s some wall around him, an energetic barrier that blocks any flow of energy and leaves no opening for flirting.

He carries a kind of vacuum inside him, a cold, hollow chill.

The longer I look at him, the stronger the impression feels, as if a dull monochrome filter is layered over him.

The only thing that stands out is his dark red hair, an uncommon shade of blood-deep crimson.

He turns his head and looks at me, his eyes nearly black, such a dark green they’re like bottomless pits.

"I don’t think you should rush into anything, Summer. You’re family now. You can stay here and just live however you want. Do you have any hobbies, anything you’re passionate about, something you’d like to do?" His tone sounds light, but everything about it feels practiced, fake.

I shrug faintly and type on his phone:

"I have partial amnesia. I don’t really remember what I liked when I was a kid, except aquariums. If I focus really hard, I think maybe I was into storytelling. Possibly I even wrote short stories online, but I can’t remember my login or what they were about."

"Well, you can always waste hours scrolling through shorts online," he says with a sour smile. "Or you could learn to play an instrument. Snow gives lessons. He could teach you."

I quickly shake my head. The thought of knowing how to play isn’t unpleasant in itself, but I’m definitely not ready for it with Snow, not in a situation like this.

Bay laughs, though his laugh doesn’t sound like normal laughter. It’s the kind of sound someone makes when they’re hurting but trying to cover it up with irony.

In a way, I understand, because I’m in a similar state whenever I’m not touching Snow. My whole body, my mind, every thought is wrapped in an unpleasant ache. Does Bay wrestle with something like that too?

He watches me with a crooked smirk.

"Then I guess it’s shorts for you. Not the most productive way to spend your time. I prefer playing."

He nods toward the electric guitar hanging on the wall across from us.

"Play something," I type. "Sorry I don’t know much about you, but apparently you’re a great musician."

Bay exhales a slow ribbon of smoke, then stands without a word. He pulls the guitar from the wall, plugs it into the amp under the table, and sits down again with it across his lap.

He strums a single note to check the tuning, then his fingers start moving with a natural ease and skill that has me staring.

He plays. The melody isn’t familiar, but it’s pleasant, almost romantic.

I get kinda lost in it. Honestly, I expect him to sing too, I know from YouTube clips he has a great voice, but he doesn’t. He just plays. I close my eyes because I’ve always liked listening to music.

Still, the sound doesn’t carry what Snow’s music does when he plays harmonica or piano. Snow’s melodies ease my pain, soften its sharp edges, bring flashes of memory, make me feel alive again. Bay’s music… it’s just really good music.

Still, I let myself sink into it until I hear footsteps outside.

The door bursts open.

Rather violently.

Snow steps in.

What a scene he must be walking in on: me sitting here while Bay plays what sounds like a love song for me.

I’m also kinda stunned to see him. I was sure he’d still be talking with Theo. That didn’t seem like a quick conversation to have. But apparently, it’s been resolved?

Snow’s eyes flick from me to Bay. Bay slows his playing to a lazy strum, just enough for background.

That crooked smile appears on his face again.

"Relax, Snow. Don’t worry. There’s no revenge fuck happening here.

Even though it would be somewhat justified, considering you’ve known for a year that your future boyfriend, Summer, would be here in mid-September.

Yet you still managed to breed Theo the day before Summer came," he stabs Snow with this remark.

Snow’s violet eyes almost blaze as he stares at Bay with wild intensity.

Bay calmly sets the guitar aside.

"So, bro, how did things go with Theo?" His voice is cutting, mocking. Something flickers in Snow’s expression.

Bay tilts his head. "Are you going to take the weight off him? Raise the kid in our house? Tim Kellan won’t be posing for publicity shots holding a white-haired baby. The guy’s a brunette."

Snow says nothing, which doesn’t surprise me. His gaze flicks to me for a moment, hard to read, before locking back on Bay. I can see his chest rising and falling faster, his heart pounding.

Bay reaches for the e-cig waiting on the side table, takes a long drag, and exhales a stream of smoke straight toward Snow.

I don’t know why, but I stop it midair. It looks like the smoke hits an invisible wall, hovering about five feet in front of Snow.

It’s pointless, of course—smoke can’t hurt anyone—but I do it anyway. I can’t stand the way Bay tries to humiliate him.

We all stare at the strange sight, the smoke curling and splitting around a barrier no one can really see.

Silence falls.

"I think you should leave, Snow," Bay says coldly, his mouth twisting into something close to a sour grimace. "There’s nothing here for you. You’re about to be a father, and your life is going to change. Think about what your priorities are, what you want to focus on. With your talent, that shouldn’t be hard. "

The bitter, mocking edge in his words still vibrates in the air.

Snow glances at me once more. Is that sadness flickering in his eyes? Then he simply turns and heads for the door.

I stare after him, feeling a terrible tearing inside me, like my heart is splitting apart. I hesitate, ready to stand and run after him, but Bay seems to sense it and suddenly says,

"Don’t do it, Summer. Clear your head first. Think it through, because everything is about to change.

The baby will become part of the conversation in this family.

Snow isn’t a hundred percent free anymore, he’ll always have a responsibility.

You need to be sure this is what you want at this point in your life. "

His words cut deep with a cold pragmatism, and they make me feel even weaker, though I can’t even explain why.

Maybe because I know he’s right. Everything has already shifted for Snow, and since Theo isn’t willing to end the pregnancy, Snow will always carry that duty.

He’ll have to spend time with the child, and whoever stands at his side will have to accept that child too.

A knot tightens in my stomach. I want children too. But I still don’t even know what mine and Snow’s status is, whether we really are True Mates, or how Theo’s baby would reshape the family I might have had with Snow if anything ever did happen between us.

It’s too much. Way too much. I’m not ready for that kind of responsibility, not now, not while my memory is fractured, when I wake up every day with headaches and confusion. This isn’t the time to make life-changing decisions.

And then it hits me: maybe it’s not even the time to get involved with Snow at all.

What am I supposed to do?

Bay is right. I need to give it time. I have to make sure of what I really want, test how determined I am to build a relationship, and see if that determination can survive the whirlwind that’s hit us.

Then another realization flashes through me.

Snow and I have shared plenty of physical contact as of now.