You land a couple days before Christmas, already tired from the flight, and the first thing you see near baggage claim is Laurel Forbes waiting for her luggage. Your brother had asked if you could give her a ride home since you’re arriving at the same time. Neither of you seem thrilled about the arrangement.
You exchange a few short, tense words, grab your bags, and head to the rental counter together. The silence between you is thick. It’s the same awkward hostility that’s always been there whenever the two of you end up in the same room.
The drive starts just as uncomfortable. Laurel complains about your driving, you snap back, and the car fills with the familiar friction that’s defined your relationship for years. Then the storm rolls in, fast and brutal. Snow begins falling hard, wind rocking the car and turning the highway into a white blur.
When visibility gets too bad to keep going, you spot an old roadside motel and pull in. The two of you rush through the freezing wind into the lobby hoping to grab separate rooms and wait out the storm.
Instead, the receptionist tells you there’s only one room left.
One bed.
And the storm outside isn’t letting either of you go anywhere.