There was something romantic about insomnia for people who slept. It was late-night diners and unchecked conversations without inhibitions. It was creativity sparked and the beautiful melancholy of fatigue. Bruises beneath eyes, but a wisdom gained from extra hours of being awake.

Living it was anything but romantic. Still, she thought maybe she was able to appreciate the bright hope of morning more than other people. Certainly, more than Izzy, who was muttering obscenities beneath her breath beside Mia.

The curses stopped only when they rounded the small shed in the backyard.

“We’re going on that?”

Mia patted the handlebars of the snowmobile. It was an old model, one Mama had bought when Mia was just a girl. But the thing worked. It would get them to the Bell mansion more quickly than trudging through the woods, and she didn’t want to take a car out on the unplowed roads leading out to the cliffs.

Izzy stared at the machine with confusion that evolved slowly into horror. Her eyes were wide, her pupils dilated, and if Mia had been in the mood, she would have laughed. Izzy looked more scared of riding it than she had after being shot at last night.

“It’s going to be okay,” Mia finally said.

Izzy swiveled her jaw, then nodded, still not saying anything.

Mia tried not to smile as she swung a leg over the seat and then patted the cushion behind her.

“You’re going to want to hold on,” she said. Izzy hesitated only a moment longer, seemingly talking herself into something, and then climbed on. Once her fingers curled around Mia’s hips, Mia revved the engine and maneuvered them toward the forest.

Because Mia was driving slow, it took double the amount of time it should have to break through the tree line on the north end of the island. When they did, the Bell mansion came into view, standing on the cliffs, commanding attention in the midst of the barren, windswept expanse. Where the lighthouse was quiet resilience, the Bell mansion challenged the encroaching sea below, laughed at the dangerous waves that licked at the rocks.

Some islanders had called it gaudy just loud enough for the Bells to hear, but Mia found that it always knocked the breath from her lungs on first view. When she’d been younger, the mansion had reminded her of a life fancier than anything possible on the two square miles of land that was St. Lucy’s.

The purr of the snowmobile rumbled to a stop as she parked by the fountain in the center of the drive. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

Izzy shook her head. “Never again. My ass is officially frozen.”

“Never again.” Mia let a beat pass. “Well, until we have to go back.”