In The Clear | ✓

23 | let it snow

"Mama, mama, mama!" Rocky ran into the room; footsteps thundering into the room.

            Jensen, who had been making the bed in her and Miles' room, looked up as Rocky jumped onto the bed. The freshly made bed. She took a deep breath in and placed her hands on the small of her back. "Yeah, Rock?"

            Jensen frowned when she realized what Rocky was wearing. A snow jacket and boots with her jeans tucked into them. Hair tucked into a toque. Mittens on her hands.

            "Um. Are you cold, little queen?"

            "Daddy say boots!"

            "What?"

            "Snow!"

            Jensen's eyes widened. "It's snowing?"

            It wasn't that shocking. Jensen realized that almost as soon as the words had left her mouth. It was January, after all. Snow happened. They were in Canada. She'd spent her entire life living in Canada, spare a couple trips around the world. Maybe before she turned forty, she'd get used to snow and potentially enjoy it.

            "Snow, mama!"

            "Um. Miles!" Jensen looked toward the door.

            "Boots!" Rocky yelled. "Mama boots!"

            "Rock, maybe your dad can take you out in the yard—"

            "Me?" Miles said from the doorway. Adjusting Beckett, who was wrapped in a snowsuit, in his arms. He wore his own version of a snowsuit that consisted of jeans, boots that barely reached his ankles, a scarf, and a jacket that Jensen didn't consider at all appropriate for snow. "We're all going. Now. To the beach. Boots on, Rhodes."

            "The beach?" Jensen put a hand on her head. "I thought it was snowing."

            "It is."

            "There are words that don't go together in these sentences," Jensen said. "You want to go to a beach in the snow? Babe, that's not how it works."

            "They're still open."

            "It's January."

            "Never too early."
             "It's snowing."

            "It was snowing."

            "There's still snow on the ground."

            "So we'll make snow angels instead of sandcastles, who cares?" Miles reached out and pulled Rocky's hand away from her nose; moments before a finger went up a nostril.

            "You're nuts." Jensen pointed a finger at him as she quickly side-glanced and Rocky before staring back at Miles. "Imagine there's a bad f-word in front of that."

            "Fart," Rocky said. Matter-of-factly. She nodded her head, pleased with herself.

            "Never change, Rock." Miles kissed the top of Rocky's head before he looked back to Jensen. "It's going to be fun. Come on."

            "California boy, I swear—" Jensen locked eyes with Miles. His almost pleading her. "I must be out of my mind."

            Miles grinned. "Can you be ready in five?"

            Jensen took a deep breath in. "Will you wear an actual snow jacket?"

            "Rhodes," Miles said, "we both know where this is going to go."