Miriam’s fallen face made every instinct in her body want to protect her and hold her, but she knew she couldn’t. So she lied. “You don’t love me, and more importantly, I don’t love you. I might have, but now I never will. I’m glad I realized now, before it was too late, that you’ll never be trustworthy.”

“You’re a liar, Northwood!” Miriam accused her, standing up out of the booth, her hands planted on the table. “Who’s the coward now? You say you try to be perfect so no one will leave you, but you expect everyone else to be perfect, too. And when they mess up, you take it as proof, so you have an easy out and you can leave them first. Which, PS, you accused me of something pretty horrific, so I’m not the only one who messed up here, Miss Self-Righteous. It’s a fucked-up self-fulfilling cycle—people always leave you because you can’t let them make mistakes!”

Noelle whirled on Miriam, her conscious pricked, some part of her worried that Miriam was right. “That’s bullshit. Cass wasn’t perfect, and I knew it. She was petty, and capricious, and self-centered. I loved all of her. Hannah’s controlling and short-tempered and she can be a real asshole.”

“Yes, but those are the things you like about them. You can pat yourself on the back for loving people as they are because none of those flaws threaten your security. They’re just seasoning!” Miriam banged her palms on the table, her hair flying and her eyes sparking. She looked electric and beautiful, and the sight broke Noelle’s heart. “I react to one really fucked-up situation in a way you don’t like, and it’s all over. I’m not your parents, Noelle!”

She might not have been able to protect herself from the pain of her parents not showing up for her over and over, but she’d been a kid then. Now, as an adult, Noelle could damn well choose the people she loved, people who wouldn’t put her through that same hell again.

“This isn’t about me, Miriam. Don’t try to make this my fault. And leave my parents out of it.”

She couldn’t stay here and have all the most vulnerable parts of her stripped bare for examination. She stomped out of the room.

But this time Miri didn’t follow her.

The week between Christmas and New Year’s, traditionally the perfect slice of liminal space out of time, was frenetic with constant movement, the inn a perpetual motion engine.