Brecken’s phone buzzes, and I notice the battery is at 8 percent before it powers down. I crunch my way down the hill to the car, where Harper is in the driver’s seat with the door open. Brecken has shoveled out the tires and wedged a flattish log underneath the two that are sunk in the worst. In the driver’s seat, Harper guns the engine, and Brecken pushes hard into the front bumper. He’s trying to help her get it backed out.

“Here, I’ll help,” I say. “I’m sorry—I think your phone is about out of juice.”

“No big.” He laughs through his strain. “And I appreciate the offer for help, but I doubt all ninety-eight pounds of you is going to do much.”

I ignore him and take position beside him, bracing my hands on the car. I dig my heels in and lean forward. The bumper is smooth and cold and solid, and I like it. It feels good to brace myself for physical work, to know exactly what I need to do to move forward from here.

Brecken smirks. “Push a lot of cars out of ditches, Mira?” I don’t know how he makes it sound like a dirty joke, but he does.

I cut my eyes to the windshield, where Harper watches from behind the wheel.

“Try it again,” I yell to her.

She does, and Brecken and I push. The car rolls back a few inches. We can tell the second the tires gain traction. The engine’s power kicks in, and the car accelerates, motoring up and onto the pavement in a smooth rush.

“See? We were made to work together,” Brecken says, winking. “Partners in crime.”

He doesn’t wait for me to respond, just heads back to the car to confer with Harper at the wheel. I don’t know what transpires, but Brecken goes to the trunk and opens it.

“What’s going on?” I ask.

“I’m going to grab my backup battery,” Brecken says.

He unzips the front compartment of his smaller bag and instantly frowns. “Not funny. Who the hell has it?”

“Who has what?” Josh mutters, his voice muffled from the interior of the car.

“My backup battery. It was in the front compartment of my backpack.”

He picks up the backpack and looks underneath it. Checks the side pockets, too.

“Check the main compartment,” Harper says. She’s behind me now, having gotten out of the car.

“I don’t need to. It isn’t in there. I never put my battery anywhere but this pocket.”

“Well, it looks like you did this time,” Harper says, but as he searches the front and side pockets again, ice rolls up my spine like a wave.