Charlotte could feel the ghost of Brighton against her chest. She had always been a heavy sleeper and had never made good decisions when she was woken up mid-REM cycle.
“The power is back on,” she said curtly.
“Oh,” Brighton said, tucking her hair behind her ears. “Thanks for letting me…” She trailed off, waved toward the bed.
“It’s fine.” Charlotte grabbed her phone. “What time are we leaving?”
“I’m not sure. I think—”
“Oh, fuck,” Charlotte said, staring at her phone.
“What?” Brighton pushed her share of the covers back. “What is it?”
Charlotte didn’t answer, just left the room, her ankle still smarting enough to make her limp a little, and hurried to the big picture window in the living room. This window didn’t have any blinds, only plaid curtains framing the glass.
Framing the snow.
“Oh,fuck,” she said again.
All she could see was snow. At least halfway up the window. It shut out the sun, the clouds, the sky. She looked back down at her phone, at the group chat someone had created yesterday. Her notifications kept dinging and dinging.
Sloane:Well…we’re snowed in, friends. Hang tight
Manish:HANG TIGHT????
Elle:Are we going to starve? Manish ate all the cheese last night
Manish:HOW DARE
Wes:I’d hide if I were you, Elle
Dorian:Hallmark Horror Movie: A Cannibalistic Christmas!
Adele:You’re all such idiots
Sloane:Dad said a crew is en route to dig us out
Manish:DIG US OUT????
Adele:Cool it with the all caps. It’s giving me a headache
Manish:Speaking of headaches, Charlotte and Brighton are strangely silent. Are they dead? Or making out? I’m taking bets
Charlotte huffed and clicked her phone dark before tossing it onto the couch. Brighton was now standing in her own bedroom’s doorway, staring down at her phone, an amused expression on her face.
“This isn’t funny,” Charlotte said, heading to the front door.
“It’s a little funny.”
“We’retrapped.” She flung open the front door to find tiny mountains of snow covering the porch, even jutting up against the door like a wall. She could see over it but certainly couldn’tget through it. A bit of snow toppled into the cabin, and Charlotte slammed the door closed.
“Not for long,” Brighton said, heading into the kitchen. “Coffee?”
Charlotte glared at her, hating Brighton’s calm, hating everything that had led them to this point. “I suppose this is what you wanted.”
Brighton’s hand stilled on a K-Cup. “What Iwanted?”
“Ever since we got to Winter River, you’ve been after me,” Charlotte said. “Wanting totalk, to make it right. But you can never make it right, okay? There, I said it. What you did to me will never be okay, Brighton.”
