I try my best to hide my reaction, looking anywhere but at Emmitt. Rosie lets go of my arm, moving ahead to one of the booths, and I manage to focus on her and Grant as they offer money to the girl behind the counter in exchange for plastic rings.

Grant takes the first throw, but his lands almost a foot away from the bottles. He makes a quiet noise of despair and gestures for Rosie to go ahead.

Rosie laughs, tossing her own ring, which lands neatly around the bottle neck. Grant pouts, knocking his hip into hers to push her aside.

A small smile flits across my face. “Your friend is really bad at this,” I say, as another one of Grant’s rings fall short.

Eventually, Grant seems to give up, because instead of throwing his rings, he tries to distract Rosie instead.

“I know,” Emmitt says, and his voice is affectionate. I glance up at him and see his private smile again, directed at none other than Grant. “It’s a shame, since he probably would’ve given me the prize.”

My nose wrinkles as I eye the prizes in question—huge stuffed animals sitting on the shelves behind the girl running the booth. “Why would he give you the prize?”

“Who else is he going to give them to?” Emmitt asks, offering me a sharp grin. “I picked this group strategically.”

I feel the urge to roll my eyes for the first time in days. “Shut up.”

“Make me,” he teases.

I stare at him for a long time before leaning up on my toes. Emmitt’s eyes go wide as I balance myself on his shoulders, but his hands move to accommodate me, resting on my waist and steadying me.

“What are you doing?” he asks, his voice hoarse.

“Making you,” I say quietly, and then my hands slide farther up, wrapping around his neck until I can squeeze, though there’s no real strength behind my hands. “Dickhead.”

Emmitt splutters with sudden laughter. My nerves settle at the return to our normal bickering—even if it’s more playful now than anything else. “How is it you always manage to surprise me?”

I land flat on my feet, dropping my hands to my side, though his are still on my waist, warm through the layers of clothes I’m wearing. “I’m a girl of many talents.”

Emmitt makes a fond noise. “I suppose that is true.”

“Suppose?”

“Suppose,” he repeats, mirth lining his eyes.

I flip him off, turning my attention back to Rosie and Grant. The weight on my shoulders feels lighter than it has in days.

When Rosie wins the round, she points to a fluffy penguin on the middle shelf. “That one, please.”

I’m not surprised when she holds it out to Sofia afterward, her cheeks bright pink. “For you.”

Sofia smiles warmly, taking the stuffed animal into her arms. “Penguins are my favorite.”