I coughed. The embers gave up entirely and went dark.
“Fantastic,” I said to the dead fireplace. “This is going great.”
From somewhere in the darkness, I heard a judgmental meow.
Purrsephone was perched on the back of an armchair, her mismatched eyes gleaming in what little light came from the windows. She looked unimpressed. She also looked warm, which was deeply unfair.
“Don’t,” I told her. “Just... don’t.”
She meowed again, then hopped down and padded toward the hallway. Toward Farley’s bedroom.
“I’m not waking him up,” I said, even as I shivered violently. “He needs sleep. We both need sleep. I’ll just... add more blankets.”
I returned to the couch and piled every available blanket on top of myself. Curled into a ball. Tried to generate body heat through sheer force of will.
It wasn’t working.
The temperature in the cabin had dropped significantly since the fire went out. I felt it in my fingers and toes, in the tip of my nose, in the way my muscles were tensing against the cold. The blankets were helping, but not enough.
“This is fine,” I whispered to myself. “I’ve been cold before. I’ll survive until morning.”
My teeth started chattering.
“Samuel?”
I looked up. Farley was standing in the hallway entrance, rumpled and sleepy-eyed, his hair sticking up at improbable angles. He was wearing what appeared to be actual matching pajamas—because of course he was—and looked like he’d just rolled out of a J.Crew holiday catalog.
Even half-asleep with bedhead, he was beautiful.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“N-nothing. Just... enjoying the c-couch.”
“Are you shivering?”
“No.”
“You’re literally vibrating.”
“It’s a medical condition. Very common. Not at all related to the temperature.”
Farley looked at the fireplace. Then back at me. Then at the fireplace again. “Did you try to restart the fire?”
“I may have... made it worse.”
“How do you make a fire worse?”
“I have a gift.”
He crossed the room, examined the dead embers, and sighed. “This is going to take at least twenty minutes to restart properly. You’re going to freeze before then.”
“I’ll be f-fine.”
“You’re turning blue.”
“That’s a trick of the light.”
“Samuel.” Farley’s voice had taken on that tone—the one that suggested he was about three seconds away from making a list of all the ways I was being ridiculous. “Come to bed.”
