Chapter 20

Something woke Brighton in the middle of the night.

Not a sound, more like an absence of one. She blinked into the darkness and rolled over, reaching for her phone on the rustic nightstand. Every bone and muscle in her body screamed at her, bringing back her tumble down the mountain.

She was also cold.

Like, freezing.

She sat up and tapped her phone's screen.

2:32 a.m.

It was plugged in, but she noticed it wasn't charging, which was exactly when she realized just how quiet it really was. A bone-deep silence. There was no hum from the heater, no gentle whir from the ceiling fan she'd turned on before slipping into bed a few hours ago.

Honestly, everything after skiing was a blur. Adele had created a group chat and texted that the snow was so bad her dad had ordered them all to stay in their cabins. He'd stocked all of their fridges with cheese and fruit. That, along with the crackers in the pantry, would have to suffice for dinner.

Manish: This is how horror movies start

Elle: I think you mean end-of-days movies

Manish: No, horror! Serial killer in the woods, comes out in the blizzard and slaughters us all

Sloane: Cheery, Manny

Manish: Cheery and Queery!

Dorian: Sounds like a Hallmark movie

Manish: The slaughtering? What kind of Hallmark movies are you watching??

Dorian: I meant the Cheery and Queery thing

Manish renamed the chat Cheery and Queery .

Dorian: As long as I get to play the dashing love interest

Manish: Who else?

Wes: Get a room

Manish: WE'RE SNOWED IN WESLEY

And on and on it went, Brighton's phone dinging every few seconds with Manish and Dorian's banter. It would've been kind of cute if she weren't in such a foul mood. With Charlotte closed in her room, Brighton had turned off her notifications and did the same, watching a queer teen show on Netflix that only made her cry with love for baby queers everywhere before finally going to bed around ten.

Charlotte had never emerged, never said anything in the group chat.

Now it was the middle of the night, and it was slowly dawning on Brighton's sleep-muddled brain that the power was out. Which meant the heat was out. Which meant she was fucking freezing.

She slipped out of bed and sifted through her bag, putting on every spare piece of clothing she had. As this was just an overnight trip, there wasn't much—one extra sweater, a pair of socks. She found her only sweatpants on the floor next to the bed, as she'd shucked them off when she was ready to go to sleep because she hated sleeping in pants. Still, needs must. She found her knit hat as well, stuffed it on her head before going to the window. She peeked through the wooden blinds, and…

All she could see was white.

White swirling, white in the distance, white…

Wait.

She squinted harder, hoping she hadn't actually seen the snow landing just above where the window's glass started, but she had. It was piling higher and higher and higher…

"Shit," she whispered to no one, but honestly, she was too cold and sore to worry about it too much at that moment.

Brighton scurried back to her bed, burrowed under the covers, and tried to sleep, but she couldn't get warm. Her toes were like ice, and she could never sleep when her feet were cold. But it wasn't just her extremities. Her bones were cold. She couldn't stop shivering, her teeth clacking together. She spent at least an hour like that, close to tears, envisioning losing her nose to frostbite. She knew she was catastrophizing, but outside the snow still fell, accumulating around them like a cocoon, and she couldn't think straight with her blood slowly solidifying.

She threw the covers back, the need for warmth overriding everything else. She flung open her door and hurried to the other side of the cabin to Charlotte's room. She didn't knock. Didn't slowly creak the door open. She just barged in and tapped a sleeping Charlotte on the shoulder.

"Hmm," Charlotte said, unmoving.

"Charlotte," Brighton whisper-yelled, the name barely understandable through her shivers.

"M'sleeping," Charlotte mumbled.

"I know, I'm sorry. I just…" Brighton hopped from one foot to the other. "I'm freezing."

Charlotte slowly rolled over, cracked one eye open. "What?"

"The power's out. There's no heat."

Charlotte lifted her brows. "Seriously?"

Brighton nodded. "Can I…?" She nodded to the bed. It was a queen, large enough that they wouldn't have to touch, but the concept of body heat was the only thing keeping Brighton going at the moment. She waited for Charlotte to laugh, to tell her to get lost, but Charlotte just stared at her for a second before flipping the thick green-and-red plaid comforter back. She scooted over a little to make room for Brighton—Charlotte's default was sleeping in the middle of the bed, which meant that when they were together, Brighton had woken up most mornings with some part of her girlfriend draped over or wrapped around her.

Brighton didn't hesitate. She practically dove into the warm spot created by Charlotte's sleeping body. Charlotte didn't falter either—she flung the covers back over them, locking them in. Brighton sighed in relief, tucked her hands to her chest, and waited for Charlotte to situate herself a few inches away, but then…

More warmth.

Arms wrapping around Brighton, pulling her close.

Brighton held her breath, nodded when Charlotte asked if it was okay, her words still slurred with sleep. Charlotte might not have been thinking clearly, might never have done this in the light of day, but Brighton couldn't bring herself to care at the moment.

Right now, the only person she'd ever loved was holding her, a chilly nose pressed to the back of Brighton's neck. Right now, there were no drunken confessions or abandoned altars or misunderstandings. There wasn't a New York or a Nashville. There was only this .

Two childhood best friends turned lovers, holding on to each other in a storm.