"I knew it."
"It's safer."
"It's ridiculous."
"It's heated."
"It's close."
"It's your cabin."
"Yes."
"Exactly."
I stare at her. She stares back. Jillie looks between us like she's watching professional tennis.
Then she raises one hand.
"I vote cabin."
Neither of us asked. That doesn't stop her.
"It's safer."
Traitor.
"Warm."
Double traitor.
"And cabins are awesome."
Triple traitor.
I look at Sadie. Sadie looks at the snow. The snow continues proving me right.
Five minutes later, she sighs, and I know I've won. Not because she trusts me. Because she trusts the storm even less.
Which, honestly, is fair.
***
Twenty-five minutes later, we're pulling into my driveway.
Calling it a driveway feels generous.
At the moment it's mostly a snow-covered suggestion.
The cabin sits beneath a blanket of white, warm light glowing from the windows against the darkening sky.
Beside me, Jillie presses both hands against the truck window.
"Oh wow."
I try not to smile.
Fail.
