I did prefer it, but I kept that to myself.

Another thing he wouldn't understand.

I preferred it because Cody called me it.

Nobody else ever did.

I never wanted this life.

The pale girl with the bright red hair . . . I never wanted to be her. Even when she's wearing makeup, when she has a reason to put on dresses and nice shoes, I was never very comfortable in her skin. I never wanted to be the girl who navigated the world alone. I didn't want to have to settle for less than what I believed I deserved. I had a wall of dreams and a give-them-hell attitude, and I had plans . . . plans I wanted nothing more than to see through.

I never wanted to be in this place.

But I never truly belonged there, either.

Home was never Hell's Kitchen. Home was somewhere where I could see the stars, where I could stare up at the sky and know, with just a glance, that there was something else beyond this all. Home was the one place I felt safe, and protected, where even surrounded by brimstone and hellfire, I could feel Heaven's touch on my face.

Home.

I miss it.

I miss so much of it.

I miss the smiles.

I miss the snow.

It's been a little over three weeks since I was dragged back out of the neighborhood I grew up in, kicking and screaming, whisked away to a new life, another new beginning, where I had to learn to be another new girl. They took me straight to the intake center in Washington, processing me back into the system, this time as a bona fide witness.

Grace Kelly.

I chose it because of the Princess of Monaco, hoping I'll live at least half the life the real Grace Kelly lived. She left her world behind for a new adventure, walking away from the thing she wanted most for something else, something I like to think she eventually loved even more.

I hope that'll happen for me.

With my new name comes a new placement, something I knew, but something I don't want to think about. I'm not supposed to know when it'll happen. I'm not allowed to know where I'm headed after this. All I know is that for the moment, I'm back here . . . back in this place.

Snowflake.

I stand along the side of Highway 77, a few yards south of the city limits sign, leaning back against the side of Holden's black Dodge Charger. It's near nightfall, the sun having gone away. In fact, it hid most of the day.

It's amazing how quick things can change. I was gone for only a few days, but when I returned to Arizona, nothing was the same. Winter had moved in practically overnight, ushering in the second I ran out. Gone was the scorching sun, replaced with a ground covered in frost and a cloud-covered sky.

It feels colder here than it felt in Hell's Kitchen. The nippiness in the air makes my nose run and my skin tingle with pins and needles. I'm wearing the hoodie, my hands pulled up inside the sleeves, the hood over my head, pulled down low, shielding my eyes, mostly because it's cold, but partly because I still don't want anybody to look at me.

It smells like him again.

Or maybe my mind is playing tricks on me.

My gaze is off in the distance, far down the highway as it disappears into the growing darkness. I'm so emotionally worn down that I'd give about anything to be anywhere but here right now. It's Christmas Eve, and I'm standing along the side of the road, while nearly everyone else in the world was at home with the people they loved.

"We can wait in the car, you know . . . if you're cold."

My head turns, eyes seeking out Holden when he speaks. He's standing in the middle of the road, near the broken yellow line. The highway is vacant. We've been out here ten minutes and I haven't seen another car yet.

"I'm fine," I say quietly. "How much longer is it going to be?"

He shrugs a shoulder casually, hands in his pockets, as his pristine dress shoes toe the asphalt, kicking small rocks off of the highway. "Shouldn't be much longer, I'd say."

He hasn't told me why we're out here, why he drove me to this spot or what we're waiting for, but I think I know. Contrary to how I acted when I ran straight into the arms of danger, I'm not an idiot. I think it's time . . . time to move on.

Because with a new placement comes a new handler. Holden's job ends right here, at the city limit of Snowflake, where he kept Grace Kennedy safe. Grace Kelly belongs elsewhere, the responsibility of someone else.

That makes me sadder than I thought it would.

Another person I'll leave behind, never to see again.

"Do you have a family, Holden?" I ask curiously. I've never given his life outside of his job much thought. Tomorrow's Christmas . . . doesn't he have anyone waiting somewhere for him?

"I have a brother," he says. "Other than that, no."

"No wife? No fiance? No girlfriend? Nothing."

"No."

"Why not?"

He shrugs. "Guess I'm already married to the job."

"But you get laid, right?"

The question comes out of nowhere. I feel like a fool the second it's vocalized, but he laughs, not offended in the least.

"I do just fine," he says, shaking his head, grinning. "But I don't think that's a conversation we should be having."

"Because you're my handler?"

He narrows his eyes. "Because you're practically my kid."

That wasn't the answer I expected, but I'll accept it.

A few minutes pass. I'm shivering, clenching my jaw tightly to stop my teeth from chattering so much. Holden doesn't suggest we get back in the car again, even though it's obvious I'm cold. He doesn't seem bothered by anything, his eyes watching me curiously until subtle lights shine down the highway from the south. We both glance that direction, and I watch as the black van slowly approaches, the headlines illuminating us.

I recognize it.

It belongs to the Marshals.

The windows are as black as the paint.

It creeps to a stop a few yards in front of us. I can faintly make out the man sitting in the driver's seat. My eyes shift from him to Holden, who still stands in the middle of the road. He, too, looks away from the van, glancing at me, and offers a slight smile, but there's sadness to it.

"I, uh . . ." I'm not sure what to say. I want to say so much. I want to thank him. I want to apologize. I want to tell him I appreciate everything he's done for me, that he's shown me more respect and kindness in one year than my father did my entire life. I want to tell him that even though I didn't like being this girl, even though I didn't like being in this place, I did like him.

I want to tell him I don't want to go.

I don't want to go, because when I do, I'll officially have nobody.

I want to say so much, but I say nothing.

His smile dims a little, the sadness taking over as he nods, whispering, "I know."

Tears sting my eyes as they build, but I fight to keep them from flowing down my cheeks, not wanting to fall apart over this. Not in front of him, anyway. He clears his throat, taking a step toward me, his hands still in his pockets. Down the highway, I can hear a van door slide open.

"I have something for you," Holden says. "Something you might want."

I shake my head. "I don't want anything from this life. None of it matters to me."

The clothes, the air conditioner, the shitty car that's still parked somewhere near the airport-I don't care about any of those things. They all belong to that other girl.

The smile that faded just a moment ago returns. "It's not from this life, Gracie. Call it a Christmas present."

Pulling his hand from his pocket, he holds it out toward me. I stare at it, eyes widening when I see the tiny picture lying on his palm. Instinctively, I reach for the locket around my neck, a locket that's been empty since he took that picture from me. My eyes dart between his hand and his face, stunned.

"But you said I couldn't have pictures," I whisper, losing that damn battle with my tears as I take it from him. I gaze at it for a second, my chest trying to cave in at the sight of Cody's face. "You said I couldn't keep it because of him."

"You're right-I did," he says. "But that's not going to be a problem anymore."

Brow furrowing, I stare at him with confusion as he subtly nods toward the van. My head slowly turns that way, something inside of me twisting when I see the person standing in the road beside it. It's getting dark, and his face is obscured by shadows, but I know that body. I know that stance. I'd recognize it before I even recognized myself.

"Cody?"

His name bursts from my chest, cracking when it escapes my lips, echoing out in the form of a question, but it's senseless. I know the answer. I know him. His head lifts, green eyes meeting mine. He's so close, so close I can see the slight pull of his lips, slowly morphing into a smile as he mouths my name. "Gracie."

I don't think.

There's nothing to think about.

There's no hesitation.

I don't need ten seconds.

I launch myself at him, running as fast as I can, closing the distance between us in a blink. He braces himself when I slam right into him, wrapping his arms around me, pulling me into his embrace. My tears fall like rain as I cling to him tightly, fisting the back of his jacket, burying my face in his chest.

"Gracie, Gracie, Gracie," he chants, one hand resting on my back while the other settles on my head, holding me against him, whispering just my name.

We stand there for a lifetime.

Forever passes in just a blink.

I'm shivering, and shaking, crying, and clinging, and it's Cody who keeps me warm. It's Cody who keeps me on my feet, Cody who keeps me from falling when my knees get weak. It's always him, and I hate myself for doubting it for even a second, but that was that other girl, I tell myself . . . the other girl who didn't know herself, much less know him. But right here, right now, it's just us. Just Cody and I, the way it was always meant to be.

I feel like I'm home, even though I have nothing that belongs to me, because Cody gives me roots and makes me want to grow and grow and grow again.

"I'll be damned, Gracie," he says quietly. "We made it snow."

I pull away from him, glancing up, unexpected laughter escaping through my tears when I see the snowflakes. It's actually snowing in Snowflake. Spinning around, I start to call out for Holden, amused he'd been telling the truth, but the highway is empty.

The Charger is gone, with it Holden.

I hadn't heard him leave.

Hadn't seen his headlights.

He said not a word to me.

I didn't get to say goodbye.

I stare at the spot where the car had been parked before my eyes drift toward the city limits sign. The man climbs from the front of the van, clearing his throat as he introduces himself. Inspector something, I don't know. I don't care. I look away from Snowflake, at the van, a van I know I'll be leaving in.

I don't put up a fight.

It doesn't matter where I'm going.

Not as long as where I'm going, I have him.

Maybe, I think, wishing isn't for fools.

Because sometimes, when you least expect it, they find a way to come true.

end.