I folded the slip of paper and tucked it in with the rest of my love letters to nowhere.
9
JONAS
I looked out the window while Quinn finished the bacon. He wasn’t the most confident cook in the kitchen. It was tempting to tease him about how carefully he monitored the stove, as if it were a dangerous experiment that might explode if he turned away. But I wasn’t sure we were to that level of comfort with our…friendship yet.
Were we friends? I wasn’t sure. Once, I would have said Quinn hated me. Maybe he just hated his “brother.” That designation no longer applied. Did that mean we could be real friends now?
“How’s it look out there?” Quinn asked. “Think we could get my rental dug out yet?”
This was a touchy subject. I hadn’t forgotten his unease the day before, when he’d admitted he felt trapped here with me. I’d been reading a lot into it at the time, sure he didn’t want to be around me, but after a fun afternoon watching movies, I was no longer sure that was it. Maybe Quinn just got claustrophobic at the idea of being stuck anywhere. Or maybe there was something else driving his sense of urgency.
“If you call your rental agency, they might deal with it,” I said carefully. “I don’t think we’re likely to get out just yet. I can go have a scout around after breakfast.”
The skies were clear once more, though we’d gotten a new dusting of snow overnight. But it was cold enough the snow wasn’t going to melt off. We’d need to wait for crews to make it up the mountain. The highway was probably clear, but the two-mile stretch from highway to cabin drive? Not yet. Might be another day, maybe even two.
Quinn turned off the burner and began piling bacon on a plate. It looked perfectly crisp, and my mouth watered as the scent of the food overwhelmed all other thought. Maybe there was something to this concept of paying attention while you cooked. The French toast looked evenly cooked and fluffy as hell. My stomach growled with anticipation.
“They’ll charge me though,” Quinn said as he handed me a plate to set on the breakfast counter. “I didn’t get the insurance, and I can’t really afford a tow.”
I read between the lines. “You need me to pull it out with the Jeep.”
He cringed a little. “I was just spouting off yesterday about how independent I am. I’m a total hypocrite. But I’m worried the rental agency will charge me out the ass if I call it in, and I’m using my mom’s credit card she gave me in case of emergency. I really don’t want to surprise her with an even bigger bill.”
“I get it.” I grabbed silverware while Quinn poured us each a coffee. Once we were settled, I admitted, “I don’t want you to worry about being stuck here. I will let you drive the Jeep just as soon as it’s possible.”
“But that’s not today?” he guessed.
“No.” I took a bite of bacon, pausing to enjoy the salty flavor that burst over my tongue. “Maybe not even tomorrow.”
“Fuck.”
I nodded, trying to be sympathetic while also gorging myself on breakfast. “Sorry. This is great, by the way.”
Quinn smirked. “You sure do pack it away. How much are you going to have to work out to keep that hot bod of yours?”
He was teasing me. Progress.
I grinned. “You don’t want to know.”
“Push-ups?”
“Planks,” I said, reaching for my phone when it buzzed with a notification. Lifting it, I added, “Crunches. Sooo many crunches.”
“Better you than me.”
“Uh-huh.” But I was no longer listening. An email had come in from Professor Woolridge with the subject heading, Urgent: Project Proposal Rejected.
My heart sank down to my toes as I clicked the email and skimmed the note he’d included.
Jonas,
I’m sorry to inform you I cannot accept this project proposal as it failed to meet the required criteria for consideration. I urge you to take another look at your market saturation research for the business type and location you have suggested. I realize this won’t be what you want to hear, especially over the holidays, but there’s time to rectify this if you act quickly.
I’ve attached the project proposal guidelines so that you might take a closer look at them and avoid this problem when you resubmit your new proposal. You have until January 2, when I return to my office.
Happy holidays!
Professor Woolridge
“Fuck.” I slapped my phone onto the table in disgust.
“What is it?” Quinn asked. “Is something wrong?”
“I fucked up.” I shoved my hands into my hair, careless of the bacon grease on my fingers. I pushed my chair back and stood up.
“What do you mean? What’s going on?”
Quinn stared up at me with worry. I realized I was being unnecessarily dramatic. Forcing myself to swallow the lump forming in my throat, I took a calming breath. Like the prof said, there was still time to salvage this. But my project team was going to kill me. I’d sent the proposal to all of them so they could get an early start on their own research. This was going to set all of us back. No one would thank me for giving them homework over Christmas break.
“School drama,” I said. “I’ve got to do some research.”
“Over winter break?”
He sounded so baffled, I wanted to laugh. “What can I say? Senior year is a bitch.”
“And then you graduate?” he said lightly.
“Fingers crossed.” I gestured toward my plate. “Thanks. Sorry. You can leave it and I’ll clean up later. I know you cooked.”
He waved off my apology. “Don’t worry about it. I’ve got nothing but time since we’re not getting out of here today. But hey, maybe I’ll finally get the rest of the holiday decorations done.”
“Sounds good,” I said, but my mind was already whirring through options I’d considered and discarded for my business project. I picked up my phone, tapping out a text to my team members.
Big problem, guys. But save the death threats until we figure this out…
QUINN
I tapped on the door to the master bedroom tentatively. Jonas had been in there for hours, only coming out to grab a soda from the fridge. I still wasn't entirely sure what had happened—other than his project was screwed up somehow.
Jonas didn’t answer. I tapped once more, then eased the door open.
“Hey, I needed some proof of life.”
Jonas looked up from his laptop. “Hmm?”
His hair stood up in three directions, as if he’d been running his fingers through it in agitation. His eyes were red and a little glazed.
“Wow, okay,” I said. “You’re taking a break.”
He blinked. “What? No, I’ve got to research a few more possibilities to determine the best business sector to target. This is a group project, and I’ve just screwed up the first piece. No one else can make any progress until I do this, and it’s going to be a ridiculous amount of work if we leave it until the semester starts. No one needs to start their last semester of senior year behind; it’s already going to be a bitch.”