Milli

  I pause mid-step at the top of the stairs when I see him. Jax. On the couch. Casual, but still him. The ankle brace peeks out from under his jeans, but he's sitting up, alert, and looking right at me. My stomach does that weird flip–the one I thought I’d gotten used to–and I have to remind myself to breathe.

  “Hi,” he says. Simple, soft, and yet somehow it lands in my chest like a punch of warmth.

  I swallow, trying to keep my nerves in check. “Hi.”

  Before either of us can say anything else, April comes bounding into the room, a whirlwind of energy, clutching three mugs of cocoa. Steam curls lazily from the tops, carrying the familiar scent of chocolate, cinnamon, and marshmallows.

  “Here! Hot chocolate for everyone!” she announces like a tiny, hyperactive butler. “C’mon, sit down, sit down–don’t just stand there!”

  I kneel down on the edge of the couch, taking a deep breath and letting my hands hover over the mug April hands me. Thick, sweet, warm–my favorite kind.

  Jax takes his with a careful hand, eyes flicking to mine before he curls his fingers around the mug like he’s trying to steady himself.

  April plops down next to him with her own cup, grinning like a cat that’s just caused a little chaos. “So! You two like each other, huh?” she teases, wiggling her eyebrows.

  I blush–hard–and glare at her playfully. “April!”

  She just giggles and sips her cocoa, clearly delighted with herself.

  I glance at Jax, who’s trying (and failing) to hide a small, amused smile. He raises his mug in a tiny toast, and I can’t help but return it with a soft smile of my own.

  The three of us sit there for a few minutes, letting the warmth of the cocoa spread through our hands, filling the room. Outside, the snow falls softly, but inside, it feels like the world has shrunken down to this small, bright bubble–just laughter, chocolate, and quiet glances.

  April keeps up a running commentary on everything–the snow, the mugs, how many marshmallows are too many. And while she’s talking, I steal little glances at Jax, watching the way his eyes soften when he laughs, how his shoulders relax when he’s not performing or pretending to be calm.

  For the first time in weeks, I feel like maybe everything is okay. Not perfect. Not finished. But okay.

  And somewhere between the cinnamon-sweet aroma and April’s relentless chatter, I realize I wouldn’t trade this–not the cocoa, not the chaos, not even Jax’s stubborn quiet smile–for anything.

  Even if he still has no idea how I feel.

  After a few sips of cocoa, I start to relax, letting the warmth seep through my hands and my chest. Jax looks different here, less guarded than in the hospital, less polished than on stage. Less practiced composure than on ice. Just him.

  “So,” I say, trying to sound casual, “How’s the ankle?”

  He lifts his mug and swirls the chocolate around. “Better. Walking’s easier now. Still slow, but I’m managing.”

  “That’s good,” I say, smiling. “I was worried you’d try to sprint across the driveway and end up in a snowbank.”

  He laughs and it’s softer than I remember, not the performance-laugh he gives on stage—real, easy, like he’s letting me in. “You wouldn’t have minded if I did, though.”

  I roll my eyes, but feel my cheeks heat. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

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  April pipes up from the corner of the couch, marshmallow halfway to her mouth. “She totally would! She’d say, ‘Go on, Jax! Show off!’”

  I glare at her again. “April!”

  He chuckles, looking between us. “She’s relentless, huh?”

  “You have no idea,” I mutter, hiding a smile behind the mug.

  April waggles her eyebrows. “So, do you two like each other or what?”

  I feel my chest tighten, but I force a laugh. “April!” I snap, half-serious, half-embarrassed.

  Jax raises a brow at me, amused. “Apparently , someone knows our secrets.”

  I give him a small, guilty grin. “Don’t mind her. She’s persuasive.”

  She leans back, arms crossed, smirking like she’s won a small battle. “I’m just helping fate along.”

  I shake my head, laughing softly. “Or causing chaos.”

  But then he looks at me—really looks—and the room shrinks down again. The world outside doesn’t exist. I don’t know if it’s the cocoa, the warmth, or just him, but my heart does that stupid little flip again.

  “Thanks for having me over,” he says quietly. “I mean, it’s nice, having someone to visit.”

  “Of course,” I answer, and I mean it. “I was worried you’d be bored or stuck just staring at walls.”

  He smirks, lifting his mug in a small toast. “Guess the hot chocolate saved the day, then.”

  I click my mug against his, smiling, and for a few moments, nothing else matters–not the ankle, not the hospital, not the chaos of school or rehearsals.

  Just warmth. Cocoa. Laughter.

  And him.

  April groans, dramatically flopping back onto the couch. “Ugh, you two are gross. Can we eat now?”

  I laugh, nudging her lightly with my elbow. “Don’t be jealous, little sister.”

  “Jealous? Me? Never,” she says, though her smirk betrays her.

  I glance at Jax. He grins back at me, that quiet, genuine grin, and I realize–maybe this is exactly where we’re supposed to be, right now.

  Small steps. Warm mugs. A little chaos. And maybe, just maybe, the beginning of something neither of us is ready to say out loud yet.

  The door swings open, and the familiar jingle of the handle makes me freeze mid-sip of cocoa.

  “Milli? April?”

  I glance up and nearly choke on my drink.

  Mom stands in the doorway, arms full of a bag of fresh produce—apples, carrots, and a head of lettuce peeking out. Her eyes widen as they sweep across the living room.

  And they land on him.

  Jax.

  I feel my heart hammering in my chest. “Mom!” I manage, voice a little too high. “I…uh…this is…he’s…”

  April bursts into laughter, practically bouncing on the couch. “Hi Mom! This is Jax!”

  I groan, face heating. “April!”

  Mom blinks at him, clearly caught off guard, and then looks at me like I just tried to summon a ghost. “Jax…?”

  He stands, awkwardly, one hand in the air, the other still holding his mug. “Hi, ma’am. I…uh…came over for cocoa.”

  Mom raises an eyebrow, glancing at me. “Cocoa?”

  I nod furiously, trying to look casual while my insides tie themselves in knots. “Yes! I…we…I made cocoa, and April helped, and um…we were just…”

  April cuts in completely unbothered, smiling at me. “Mom, it’s fine! He's friends with Milli, and we were just drinking cocoa. Totally innocent!”

  Mom narrows her eyes at April, then at me, then finally at Jax again. “You’re friends?”

  I nod again, wishing the floor would open and swallow me. “Yes! I mean, sort of! He came by for a visit!”

  Jax chuckles softly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yes, ma’am. I didn’t mean to intrude. I—”

  Mom puts down the bag of produce on the counter, sighs, and crosses her arms. “I see. Well, I wasn’t expecting company, but nice to meet you, Jax.” She glances at me. “I’m April and Milli’s mother. Let me rephrase: I’m your host for the day. Welcome.”

  I bite back a laugh. “Mom!”

  April giggles. “See? Totally fine.”

  Jax smiles politely, still standing like a gentleman, though his eyes flicker to me as if to say help me.

  I take a deep breath, trying to regain control of the situation. “Mom, don’t worry. We were just hanging out, having cocoa. Everything’s fine.”

  Mom’s gaze softens a fraction. “Alright. But Jax…stay out of trouble. And no sneaking around my daughters’ rooms, okay?”

  He nods earnestly. “Of course, ma’am.”

  April groans dramatically, slumping back into the couch. “Mom! I was helping! It’s not my fault he’s cute!”

  I groan again, laughing despite myself, and glance at Jax. His eyes meet mine, full of that amused, slightly mortified look that somehow makes the whole moment feel lighter.