I scoffed. “I’m afraid to ask how you know. Have you done a little time, too?”
I said that, but truthfully, there’s no way Adrian could’ve been to prison and had a job at the school. The university didn’t play when it came to background checks. Their vetting process was deep. I’m talkin’… thorough screenings, fingerprinting, officialcourt records—the whole nine. A person couldn’t have so much as a missed court date or an unresolved ticket without it getting flagged. They went through employment history, social media… even questionable associations could raise concern. I remembered one applicant got denied because arelativelisted as an emergency contact had a criminal record. So, unless Adrian somehow slipped through a process built to catch everything, I couldn’t imagine him having a real record, whichbehoovedme, with him claiming to be a part of the drug industry.
“Keep talking, and thebothof y’all finna have yard time shoveling snow,” Bryce warned Adrian and Isis.
Isis folded her arms. “This whole trip is starting to feel like community service!”
“Good. Act accordingly, andmaybeyou’ll get time off your sentence.” Bryce winked, his tone light but with an underlying seriousness.
“That’s all of the rules, right?” I asked in a knowing tone.
Bryce leaned back against the fireplace; his arms crossed tightly like a military sergeant ready to lay down the law.
“All the ones that will keep us from freezing or dying. But I made up one more… that would keep us from catching a case. Rule number seven… all arguments must have a time limit.”
“Oh, nowthatone I like,” I nodded, enthusiastically. “Go on.”
“If y’all feel like arguing—which I know is bound to happen because some of y’all have bruised egos or leftover pettiness—set a damn timer. Five minutes. That’s it. After that, you either hug it out or shut the hell up. I ain’t about to be trapped in a reality show cabin with bonus drama and no damn paycheck.”
“Five minutes is generous,” I agreed coolly. “Some people don't need more than three to embarrass themselves.”
Isis smacked her lips. “Who is she shading?”
“I don’t throw shade, boo; I use high beams.”
“Chesteria,” Bryce warned, tone low.
I blinked, unfazed. “Why are you just yelling at me? I ain’t arguing by myself!”
Bryce stepped up on me, slow and intentional, invading my personal space. His towering height didn’t intimidate me, but the deep timbre of his voice always stirred something within me.
“I only called you out because something about you being the bigger person… that’s what I’ve always admired. I ain’t never seen you lower yourself like this… especially not over somebody who doesn’t matter.”
He let that last part hang in the air like a check I could choose to cash or rip up.
That was the truth, though—whether I liked hearing it or not. I didn’t argue with people like Isis. She didn’t even rank on my list of worthy opponents. She was beneath me when it came to wit, class, and self-control. I had built a life out of keeping my composure and letting peoplewonderhow I felt rather than giving them the satisfaction of a reaction. But Bryce calling me out like that? Whew. It made me want to slap him… and sit on his lap.
Adrian cleared his throat. “So wait—can I use my five minutes to defend myself? Like, on my reasons for lying… well,withholding information?”
“You can use your five minutes to learn carpentry. Since you clearly skipped that part of your résumé,” I quipped.
I said I was done being petty, but Adrian had that one coming. As many lies as he told, I was doing the Lord’s work at that point.
The roomexplodedin laughter.
Adrian frowned. “That’s real mature.”
I clapped once, my tone dripping with sweetness. “So is not lying about being a damncarpenterwhen you really out here moving nickel bags and bad decisions.”
Adrian gritted his teeth. “You really holding that over my head?”
“Yup,” I said sweetly, then I diverted my attention to Bryce. “So, Bryce, you know how much I love a good jacuzzi. So if I cut the jets on for a few minutes, is everybody gonna blame me when we end up in the dark, or am I safe?”
Bryce exhaled, already rubbing his hand over his chin like he was doing math in his head.
“The tub itself isn’t the problem; it’s the heater on that thing that drinks the most,” he explained. “The generator can handle the jets and the controls. It’s big enough for that. We just can’t be out here running a spa day and reheating a whole tub of water while the storm got us on survival mode. Translation… if the water’s already hot, you can use it. Leave the heater alone, keep the rest of the house light, and you’re good.”
“How long we talkin’?” I pressed. “Because my stress is at least a thirty-minute soak.”
