Seven fallen angels incapable of falling in love. One girl that can keep them from spiraling into darkness.
Used to waiting on others to make a decision, Grey is a waitress at a high-end cafe. That is, until she finds herself lured into a parallel...
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One winter day in a time long, long ago, Grey and her family huddled inside her uncle's lake house. Never mind that ice solidified the only aquatic attraction or that there weren't any other homes in this dense patch of forest. Her mother and father wanted to spend Christmas at the cabin, as they called it, for a change of pace from the suburbs.
Looking back at it, they wanted to show her something new. Things she would not have noticed while cooped up in their actual house on her phone or computer. Like the trellises of snowflakes that grew on windows, the colorless sun setting over the tops of snow-capped trees, their clothes and ornaments slashing pops of color against white snow. The smell of cookies or a savory dinner drifted through the halls. Laughter was there too. Always laughter.
But not for Grey, who grew sick of board games and flicking through the same twenty channels on a television riddled with static. The pile of presents under the tree grew every day. She would go peek at those; shake them to hear what was inside or check their name tags. She eventually became so ill with cabin fever that she put on a coat and sat on the veranda.
The sliding doors peeled open soon after. "Honey, if you're going to sit out here at least wear a hat."
Grey turned in her chair, facing her mother. "Mom, when are we going home?"
"After Christmas," she said.
"Well, why not now?"
She frowned only slightly. "We're having a great time out here."
Grey quirked an eyebrow. "Are we?"
"Yes, once you stop being so grumpy." Her mother mimicked the gesture, her lips curling into a grin. "If it makes you feel any better, I can point you in the direction of home."
"But it's hours away. You can't know the direction from here." Grey blinked, annoyed.
Her mother put her hands on her hips. "It's closer than you think. If I point the right way, you have to go sledding with your father and I."
Grey narrowed her eyes. "Only if you point the right way."
"I'm pointing towards home, right?" Her mother walked towards her, putting a hand on the back of her chair and staring into an audience of evergreens as though the right answer would peek its head through one of the spindly branches. Grey nodded, crossing her arms expectantly.
Her mother inhaled the wintry air and lifted an arm. It carried across her body until she pointed to the left, and while Grey followed her trail, the young girl missed the way her mother knelt before her chair. She wrapped that arm around her daughter's chest, pulling her into a hug.
"My home is right here. In your heart."
"Mom." Flustered, Grey hugged her back. "That's not--"
"That's where I'll always live. And you live there too. Home is where the heart is. Now get your boots on, we're going sledding."
