“You stole a Christmas present?” Josh asks, still sounding stunned.

“So what?” Kayla crosses her arms. Not an ounce of remorse shows in her eyes.

“Holy-shit factor aside, why did you hide it in Mira’s seat?” Brecken asks.

“Because you started checking bags, and I didn’t want you all freaking out.”

“Freaking out about someone in the car having a weapon feels reasonable,” Harper says.

Kayla cocks her head. “Well, you aren’t all that freaked out about driving with a guy who attempted vehicular manslaughter.”

Brecken lunges forward. “I’m sick of your—”

“Enough!” Josh raises both hands, one toward Kayla and the other to Brecken. “I’m done with this. The way I see it, we have two options. We stand here and fight about who’s doing what or we get in the car and try to get to a gas station or whatever else we can find.”

“You’re forgetting option three,” Brecken says, eyes hard.

“What’s that?” Kayla asks. “Leave me here?”

“I’m just saying, you stole a knife, and I’m not buying that you were thinking of your dad on Christmas morning when you did it,” Brecken says. “What are you hiding?”

“What am I hiding? You want to pretend you don’t have any secrets?” Kayla asks. “Funny how you haven’t mentioned what you’re hiding, Brecken.”

Brecken’s face shutters in an instant. “What are you talking about?”

“You shouldn’t assume I’m sleeping every time my eyes are closed,” Kayla says.

“What are you talking about?” he repeats, but he is quiet. And he looks like he knows exactly what she’s talking about.

Kayla smirks. “I heard your little true confession phone call to your buddy.”

“Shut up,” he says, pink staining his cheeks.

Harper looks up. “What phone call?”

“Go on,” Kayla says, sneering. “Tell them how they’ll never see you the same.”

“What is she talking about?” Harper asks.

“None of your business,” he says.

“It feels like something we should know,” Josh says..

Something groans above us and we stop, looking up. There’s nothing but tree-covered mountains and snow and this terrible endless creaking that burrows under my skin. And crawls deeper. Something splinters. It’s like lightning, a deafening crack that shudders in the hollows of my bones.

I can’t see it. I can’t see what’s happening.

“Watch out!”

Josh yanks me back, but it isn’t necessary. The tree falls in slow motion. The trunk of the tree lands across the road with a shuddering whoomph, branches catching on the slope on the opposite side of the road. Wood snaps and bark rips as the top of the tree settles.

And then there is nothing but silence.

Chapter Twenty-Five