She extends a plate forward with a humph. “I did. Granted, the biscuits are from pancake batter mix and melted snow, and the mushroom gravy is from a McCormick packet I suspect expired several years ago.”

I set down the plate and pull her into my arms and kiss her deeply.

The biscuits and gravy taste like cardboard and chunky slop water, but they’re still the best thing I’ve ever eaten. I wish we could stay here forever, in this tiny cabin, living our own Little House on the Prairie kink, but it’s Christmas Eve. Katherine is waiting for us.

Andrew and Dylan are waiting for us.

The truth is waiting for us.

We got almost a foot of snow in the night, so digging Gillian out isn’t an option. Instead, we find the Singhs’ snowshoes on the back porch next to the firewood. Slowly and reluctantly, we return the cabin to the way we found it. We ditch our Cornell clothes for the ski outfits we came here in last night. Jack leaves a detailed note, along with her Venmo account name, so the Singhs can request money for everything we stole. We’ll bring the snowshoes back when we come to dig Gillian out.

We call Katherine to let her know we’re on our way, and then we stare at each other across the rug in the living room where we danced to Celine Dion. I try to remember the way she held me here, so I’ll have it later, no matter how this next part goes.

We step outside. Neither of us speaks for the first mile as we trudge through the snow in the silent morning, my feet awkward in snowshoes for the first time. It feels like emerging from some kind of dream, and I have the same fear I did last year. What happens when the snow melts? What happens when we return to Portland?

But then Jack is at my side, reaching out for my hand, reading my mind. “It’s going to be hard,” she says. “Whatever comes next, with my family. It’s not going to be easy. But I’m in. I’m all in.”

She’s right here, and her expression is completely unguarded again, and I want to tell her everything. About Andrew and the money and the trust—about the reason I went along with the scheme, and all the reasons I kept going along with the scheme. But there’s still one last reason, shackled to my ankle and pinning me to my dishonesty. And that reason is Jack.

Jack, who is taking a huge risk in opening her own bakery. Jack, who won’t have anything to fall back on if it falls apart.