Page 14 of Cruel Winter with You

“That’s not really my experience, though.” A bubble of resentment pops in my chest. “Notanytime.”

Marc leans forward. “Your experience? What do you—”

And that, of course, is when the whoosh of the storm reaches its all-time loudest, and the lights go out.

Chapter Four

The outage is in the whole neighborhood. They’re working on fixing the power lines.”

Marc tells me this after checking the online app, but I’d already figured that out from Dad’s text.

Dad:No power! You okay?

Me:Yup, safe at Marc’s.

Dad:Maybe it’s better if you stay put there for a while.

I sigh and force myself not to type:Gee, you really think so, Dad?

He’s always been a loving father. I know he tried to do his best, and in return I try not to blame him for being a little flaky and self-centered, and for all the times he forgot to pick me up from school or sleepaway camp before I got my license.

“It’s not that bad,” I tell Marc, trying to sound unaffected. Unfortunately, the semi-obscurity is already making me want to hide under the nearest bed and rock myself to sleep. Is it embarrassing for a twenty-seven-year-old woman to be afraid of the dark?

Probably. Maybe. If I try hard enough, I might be able to cringe myself out of this situation.

“At least we have the fire,” I add. “For warmth. And some light.”

“I need to introduce my parents to the concept of generators.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t buy them one.”

“I did,” he grunts. “But they never got around to installing it.”

Crap. “You know what?” I turn on my phone’s flashlight. I can feel a panic episode coming up, and it’s probably better if I am alone for that. “I’m gonna go check on Sondheim and be right back, just to make sure that he’s okay.”

“Sondheim can see in the darkandhates everyone. He’s having the time of his life.”

“Still, just to make sure—”

I try to brush past Marc, but he stops me with a hand on my wrist. “Jamie.”

“I— What?”

“You know I’m not some guy you met on Tinder, right?”

I blink. “I do not have time for a Tinder account, and I’m not sure what you mean by—”

“Iknowyou’re about to have a panic attack,” he says simply. I wish I could read his expression better, but his back is to the fire, and he’s little more than a dark, haloed silhouette.

Also, I wish he wasn’t right. “I’m not—”

“You’re chewing your lip, and you’ve been white-knuckling my mom’sLive, Laugh, Lovethrow pillow for the last three minutes.”

I look at my hand, and sure enough, I’m clutching the pillow. I toss it back on the couch like it’s covered in spiders and ask, “Can I just go into your room and—”

“Have the panic attack on your own, then come out in fifteen minutes and pretend that nothing happened? Let me think about it.” He pretends to squint into the distance, then looks at me. “No, Jamie.” He pulls me closer, right into him,and I don’t even attempt to hide the relief that comes with having my cheek pressed against his chest and his arms close around me. He’s the warmest thing I’ve ever felt, smells like pine trees and soap, and slowly, gradually, my heart stops racing.

“Marc?”

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