Mr. Matthews rolled his eyes when they wandered back in and refused to let them past the mudroom in their gear. The three of them stuffed in together, pulling off each other’s boots, blowing on their fingers to make them work well enough to undo zippers, and throwing scarves over each other’s heads onto hooks. When they were finally reduced to fleece-lined long johns, he admitted them into the kitchen for stew and hot tea.

That night, they all lay on their backs on the floor in the great room, with their stockinged feet propped up in front of the fire. Kringle had stretched his whole body out, belly up, to join them, and was nearly as long as Miriam. Miriam’s hand was so close to Noelle’s their fingers brushed against each other. It felt like high school, with all the potential of someone you liked who liked you back, trying to decide when to finally let the delicious tension break.

Except, of course, giving in would mean trusting that Miriam was staying and wouldn’t run away again as soon as things got complicated.

“Do you think any moment will ever feel this perfect, again?” Hannah asked, sounding sleep-drunk. Noelle looked over at Hannah, who had basically been vibrating with stress every moment since Cass died. She was confused as hell about a lot, right now, but if she got to see her best friend this happy, it might all be worth it.

Noelle pretended to shake an imaginary Magic 8-Ball. “Outlook not so good.”

“What will we do? If the Rosensteins say no?” Hannah had turned over on her side to face the two of them.

Miriam propped herself up on her elbow to meet Hannah’s gaze. “Then we go to the bank without them, and we still save Carrigan’s,” she said, sounding more sure than Noelle felt. “I’m not giving you up now that I just got you back.”

Hannah nodded, holding a fist out for Miriam to bump. “Ride or die.”

Later, long after the fire went out, Noelle was still awake, remembering Miriam licking s’mores off her fingers. She pulled her blankets over her head and groaned to herself. Miriam was closer to being exactly what she was looking for than Noelle wanted to admit. If she were looking. Which she wasn’t. If a romance exploded spectacularly, they could lose all the work they’d put into saving Carrigan’s. But it was hard to ignore how her whole body lit up when Miriam walked into a room.

She hit herself over the head with her pillow. Go to sleep, Noelle, she told herself. You aren’t going to solve anything after midnight.

Finally, under the weight of Kringle and the promise of a very early morning, she fell asleep.