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Before he can open the door, the bottom falls out and the rain floods down on the roof.

“Fuck,” he curses.

Margo bites her lip. “It’s bad, isn’t it?”

Cole frowns down at his phone. “The forecast says the storms are rolling in fast. Another band right behind this one.”

She looks at me, brown eyes worried.

“Will the festival get canceled?”

“No call from Suzanne yet,” I say, which isn’t an answer.

Margo paces around the kitchen.

“Two days to the festival, and we lost most of today. That leaves tonight and tomorrow.”

Her breath starts coming shorter.

Marcus steps toward her, not touching her but close.

Cole straightens up, too.

But it’s me who makes a move.

I take a few steps toward her, place my hand lightly on her shoulder.

“Margo. Take a breath.”

She doesn’t.

“Margo,” I say again, voice firmer. “Take a breath.”

She draws in a ragged breath through her nose. Lets it out.

“Another.”

I breathe deeply and she breathes with me.

Marcus and Cole get closer, but this time, I don’t mind. She needs comfort.

She needs all of us.

“Okay,” she says. “Okay. I’ll go get the rest of the supplies and we can work through the night.”

Marcus and Cole glance at each other.

“We’ll work for a few hours,” I correct her. “And then we’ll rest. You’ll rest. And we’ll start fresh tomorrow.”

“But the volunteers aren’t here until Friday and the festival’s Saturday⁠—”

Cole interrupts her. “Gabe said to breathe, princess.”

She listens almost automatically and it’s a punch to the gut.

Marcus catches it, too, giving Cole a death glare.

Cole ignores him, looking down at Margo.