All The Summers After | TSITP | Sequel

Snow At The Shore.

It was deep into the night when Conrad stirred.

The house was silent — that quiet Cousins kind of silence, where even the ocean seemed to sleep.

He blinked into the soft darkness of the bedroom and felt warmth pressed against him — Lydia. Wrapped around him like she always slept, limbs tangled with his like she was trying to fuse herself into him.

He smiled — that small, private Conrad smile he only ever had for her — and gently untangled himself, moving her arm from his chest.

She mumbled in her sleep, face scrunching adorably, and he whispered, "Shhh... still here," brushing a hand over her hair.

He padded over to the window, rubbing his eyes.

The porch light outside glowed against the night, hazy and soft.

Then — he froze.

Snow.

Actual, falling, heavy snow.

Conrad stared, breath fogging the glass. He couldn't help the soft laugh that escaped him — because this?

Snow at Cousins? This was rare. Magical, almost.

He turned around.

Lydia was stirring, reaching out blindly with one hand for him.

"Connie...?" she murmured, voice raspy, one eye opening like she was offended by consciousness. "What... what are you doing?"

He chuckled, crossing back to her. "It's snowing."

She groaned into the pillow. "Mmm... the light snow or—?"

"Heavy," he said, almost boyishly excited. "Like... movie snow."

Her other eye opened. "No way. Right now?"

"Come see," he whispered.

She pushed herself up, hair a mess, makeup long gone, wearing one of his shirts — and still, still, he swore he could never get used to how beautiful she was.

She stumbled to the window and gasped. "Oh my god..."

Her smile lit up the dark. She pressed her palm to the cold glass. "Snow... at Cousins."

Conrad looked at her — really looked — and got an idea so fast it made his chest warm.

"Put something on. Something warm."

She turned slowly, suspicious. "Why?"

He was already grabbing his hoodie. "Trust me."

"Conrad—"

"Trust me," he repeated, tugging on sweatpants like a man on a mission.

She sighed, dramatic, but she was smiling. "Fine. But if this ends with me freezing to death, I'm haunting you."

He grinned. "Worth it."

They slipped into coats, boots, scarves. Lydia wrapped herself in one of Laurel's chunky knitted blankets like a walking burrito. Conrad grabbed her gloves, tucking her fingers into them gently.

Then — quietly, carefully — they tiptoed down the stairs, past the sleeping house. No creaking floorboard, no loud laugh, no stumble. It felt like sneaking out as kids, except now they were adults in love, and the world felt wide open.

Conrad opened the front door.

The wind greeted them first — cold, sharp, crisp. The kind of air that made every exhale visible.

The snow was thick now, blanketing the porch, the driveway, the dunes.

Lydia stepped out and shivered. "Conrad... the beach? Really? When it's snowing?"

He looked at her, eyes warm and soft and glowing. And he smiled that slow, secretive smile of his — the one that meant something unforgettable was coming.