“Yeah. We talked until around midnight and crashed. She made cookies, and we talked about my parents, and Finley, and…” I trailed off, remembering the tears and blubbering about Sterling before passing out. I’d told Paige. She knew what Sterling and I had done. I covered my eyes with my hands. “Oh, no. Oh, God. Fuck.”

“So … not a good time?”

“I don’t want to talk about it. Oatmeal. No fruit. Cinnamon.” I was determined to eat, not knowing when I would have a non-instant-noodle meal next. “Please.”

“You got it,” Tyler said, ordering for me when Chelsea returned with our waters. He didn’t talk much, and I didn’t complain. There was already too much movement and light and sound and breathing going on. Clanking of dishes, talking, some damn kids laughing, car doors slamming shut—everyone needed to die.

“You look like you hate everything,” Tyler said.

“Pretty much.” I pulled my hoodie over my head, supporting my face with my hands.

“Is this one of those things we’ll laugh about later?”

I sunk down in my seat. The sunglasses weren’t helping. It felt like the sun was piercing my brain. “Probably not. I’m so sorry.”

Chelsea slid my bowl of oatmeal in front of me, the cinnamon wafting to my nose. It actually smelled appetizing until Tyler’s stack of pancakes with blueberries, chocolate, whipped cream, and maple syrup hit my nose.

“Christ,” I said, recoiling. “Has anyone ever told you that you eat like a toddler?”

“Many, many times,” he said, digging at the stack with his fork and shoveling in a bite.

“How do you look like that,” I said, pointing at him, “if you eat like that?” I pointed to his plate.

“We have a lot of downtime at the station, as opposed to the dormitory during fire season. I don’t like sitting still, so I work out a lot.”

He had to. He was a mammoth.

I picked up a spoon and dug into the bowl, scooping up a small bite first, just to test the waters. So far, so good. Plain toast, cinnamon, bland oatmeal. I could still party like a rock star but apparently couldn’t recover like one.

I finished off my water with the pair of ibuprofen I’d brought from home, and then looked at my watch.

“In a hurry?” Tyler asked.

“I just want to make sure that I get to the office on time if your superintendent doesn’t let you talk him into this absurd plan.”

Tyler had already nearly put away half of the pancakes. I wasn’t sure when. “Photographers follow us out all the time. Not sure how you’re going to keep up in your condition, if we get called out, though. The hikes are pretty brutal.”

“Shut up.”

“Uphill.”

“Why are you torturing me?”

“…in the snow.”

“You worry about your job, I’ll worry about mine.”