"I specifically wrote For Her when I sent that sweater."

Stevie had never been to Calgary before, and although what little she saw of it outside of her window looked stunning, she also decided that it was cold as shit and therefore not likely a destination she would revisit. Even walking through the jet bridge proved challenging for the Hawai'i native, and that was while wearing a heavy parka, knee-high boots, and triple layers of nearly everything else.

"We share a closet," Maverick groaned and rubbed at his eyes. "I thought you said you were arriving at four."

Honestly, she was relieved once she set eyes on her best friend. (Even though it hadn't been that long since the last time they saw each other.) (They were the type to send don't know what to do with myself until the next time I see you memes when they had plans to hang out the following week.) After the hectic year she'd had, Stevie jumped at the opportunity to spend a winter weekend getaway with Kingston Maverick when he suggested they record a surprise holiday album together. She didn't even need the recording excuse. A promise of seeing falling snow was enough for her.

Maverick took his sweet time getting off the uncomfortable airport bench like the cranky millennial he was. After checking his phone, his eyes widened in disbelief.

"It's fucking eleven—"

She might have told him their departure time instead of arrival time so that he wouldn't be late to pick them up. And by departure time, she meant the departure time of their flight from Los Angeles, not the departure time of their connecting flight in Vancouver.

"It's not my fault you picked somewhere without any direct flights from LA," Stevie countered. "And I refused to fly Air Canada, so we had to transfer from Delta to WestJet. And I've never been to this airport so I got lost trying to find baggage claim.

If Brendon hadn't been there, Stevie might not have made it to him until closer to midnight. Never mind that Calgary International was named one of the easiest airports to navigate. Clearly, all of those people making those claims were mistaken.

"We could've gone to Windsor—"

Brendon shuffled a duffle bag from one hand to the other. "Remember when I suggested that, but you, and I quote, didn't want that monster let loose on my record collection again."

A pointed silence.

"... Do you have all your luggage?" Maverick asked.

Brendon was a saint of a partner for wheeling around three suitcases, plus his duffle bag. Stevie wasn't typically an over-packer, but when she checked the weather forecast and saw just how cold it was expected to get, she prepared as best she could with any winter gear she could get her hands on. That effort included enlisting her bandmates' help.

"One of my suitcases is just every parka I own. Plus all of Lauren's and Seira's."

The crewneck Maverick sported after removing the I got Ho's in different area codes sweater he stole from Everleigh's closet was practically an insult to the Islander.

"It's really not that bad outside right now. The blizzard isn't supposed to hit until tomorrow."

Stevie stopped.

Blizzard? Did he say... blizzard?

Brendon looked ten shades of over it already. "Why would you say th—"

In the back of her mind, Stevie knew how ridiculous it was to foster an irrational fear of getting stuck inside a blizzard after watching The Day After Tomorrow as a kid, but that was the nature of irrational fears. Just like she had an irrational fear of falling into aerated water.

"You had us come here during a blizzard—"

To be fair to him, they didn't have much time to record a Christmas album before the holiday season ended. But she wasn't about to give him any wins willingly.

"It's driveable, relax." He rolled his eyes while stretching one arm over his head. "Aren't we going to be inside?"

"Oh, so I'm just supposed to be excited to be stuck inside a cabin with you? This is why I don't trust Canadians."

"Don't be dramatic. It's, like, two degrees out, it can't even snow right now."

Her eyes nearly bugged out of her head. "It's fuckin' what—"

"Thirty-five," Brendon translated.

"Equally as ridiculous."

"It's fine," Maverick insisted. "Do you want my swe—Everleigh's sweater?"

"I want something to eat. It's eleven." The meal handed out during their international flight consisted of stale pretzels and some kind of pasta salad. Snacks were not handed out at all during the connection. "What did you make for dinner?"

"I was going to make dinner after we got back at 4:30. I'm assuming Everleigh made something. I don't know. I was asleep—"

"Typical man behavior making your girlfriend cook dinner. Bet it's gonna be fuckin' beans on toast."

"As long as she's got Marmite, I'm good," Brendon chimed in.

Stevie and Maverick's singular shared brain cell operated on the same wavelength at all times. The gagging noise they made could not have looked more planned if they practiced it.

"Disgusting," they said in tandem.

"That cabin's actually a no-Marmite zone," Maverick said, "the owners told me."

The Formula One champion came more prepared than his girlfriend. All he needed was said partner and his favorite breakfast topping. "I packed some Vegemite too. Just in case."

Maverick eyed their luggage like a Saw trap waited behind one of the hard shell cases.

"You'll have to get rid of that before it poisons the dog."

Stevie was preoccupied with sifting through her purse in search of lip balm because traveling was detrimental to her skin, but she stopped as soon as Maverick spoke. Snapped her head in his direction so fast he almost jumped.

"You didn't tell me my son was going to come. Why are we still here?"

"He told me he doesn't want to see you because you're late."

"That's funny because he told me he barely remembers what you look like after your absent father era."

"He's making royalties from my album, he's fine."

"You have to pay for him for his love? How—"

Brendon shoved one of his suitcases into her leg. "Can we leave now? Before the blizzard?"

"You can cuddle the dog. I'll cuddle Bash—Okay, this way."

The cold air rushed past them as soon as the automatic doors opened. Tugging her coat closer together did nothing to stop the frost from nipping at her skin, and Stevie's teeth immediately began chattering. She glanced out at the halfway full parking lot and hoped that Maverick had managed to snag a close spot otherwise she wasn't sure if she would make it all the way there.

"Not that bad my ass. It can't even snow, he said."

"That was when I checked the weather for four—" Maverick pulled out his phone, narrowed his eyes at something on the screen, and then tucked it back into his pocket. "Yeah, says it's minus one now, so. Sorry about that. Car's over here."

They made it over to the rental car where Brendon gathered all of the suitcases around the trunk and Stevie tried not to die of hypothermia.

"I could be on a beach right now. I need to tell Jun to send me pictures so I can remember what warmth and sunshine feel like." Stevie figured now was a good time to check her phone. See if Jenny needed her while they were en route. It took a few seconds for everything to boot back up after taking her phone off airplane mode, but the notifications quickly flooded in after. "Who the hell is calling me while I'm on vacation—"

Brendon used one hand to load the bags into the car, and the other for checking his phone as well. "Probably the same person who left me a hundred messages."

What followed after Stevie played her voicemails on speaker sent chills down her spine faster than any blizzard could. Altogether, there were about thirty voicemails, all from the same worried Brit.

"Hiya!" Past Everleigh said in the first message. "Just wondering if you're stuck in baggage claim. I can see Kingston's still at the airport. Wanted to check in!" Beep. "Okay, now I'm a little worried. It looks like he's still there. Did he lose his phone? He's not replying to any messages." Beep. "Hi. Okay, the inbox is filling up but please tell me everything's okay because now nobody is replying and I'm starting to wonder where the fuck everyone is are you okay? There's a blizzard on the way." Beep. "Where the fuck are you—I'm going to file three missing persons reports—" Beep. "Sorry about that, lovely, just a little worried. I recognize that was rude. Call me, please!" Beep. "Pick up the fucking phone one of you, I swear to fucking god—"

Stevie didn't have it in her to let that last message finish.

She and Maverick stared at each other, wide-eyed.

"I—oh shit," he said.

Stevie swallowed. "Um..."

Brendon walked over and stood beside her, staring down at his phone. "Leigh texted me saying I need to reply within five minutes or else she's throwing out all the Marmite."

"And that was—" Stevie started.

"About two hours ago."

Maverick still looked like he had seen a ghost. "Respectfully, you can't eat shit spread when you're six feet under. Toast topping is the least of our issues."

"I think you're forgetting that she's definitely going after both of you first, so I have time to run."

Maybe she was panicking due to the anticipated blizzard, but Stevie had never heard Everleigh like that. Not directed at her, at least. Maverick, many times, but not her.

"I don't think Everleigh's ever been... that mad at me."

"Stev—" Maverick pulled out his phone once again. Played the first voicemail left for him.

"Kingston, I swear to fucking god if they caught an Uber because you were fucking late to the airport why the fuck hasn't your icon moved on the map—"

He turned it off. "I think you're okay."

"Remind me to turn off my location when I'm running behind to meet Everleigh."

"I think that'll make her just panic more."

"You should've been there when my phone died an hour from home," Maverick said. "Nail in the coffin for the hearing in my left ear."

Stevie sighed. None of it made her feel better. "Deserved."

"Bash," Maverick started, "you can have the front seat. It's the only other heated one."

She narrowed her eyes. "I call shotgun, you damn daikon."

"I already gave it to Bash."

"How about I give you another slap—"

Brendon walked back to the trunk and slammed it shut. Eleven p.m. arrival time was the least exhausting part of his day.

"This is going to be a long weekend."