An arm snaked around her waist and Stevie smiled into her pillow, ignoring how cold she was. Instinctively, Stevie burrowed further into the blankets and her companion who was warm enough to be her own personal space heater. If sleeping in was the only task they accomplished that weekend, she would consider the trip a success.

"Good morning, beautiful."

Brendon kissed her shoulder before replying. "G'mornin'."

Stevie could count on one hand how many times she felt truly at peace that entire year. Between completing a world tour, writing for the next album, visiting her partner while on the road, and handling the ugly parts of fame, nothing felt normal as of late, even by their industry's standards.

"I think I smell someone making breakfast," Brendon mumbled.

"God, I hope so."

"But what if it's beans on toast?" he asked.

Stevie turned in his arms with a scowl. "Do you want me to be angry all day?"

"Could make for some great music."

"Yeah, if it was our normal music," Stevie replied before shoving him away with a laugh. She stood up, slipped on some thick socks, and stretched her arms above her head. "Christmas music is supposed to be fun and full of cheer."

Brendon let the fluffy white comforter fall to his hips as he scooted himself to the edge of the bed. His hands rested on either side of her hips, his thumbs rubbing circles around the most sensitive parts with which he was all too familiar. Stevie sank into his touch, eyes closed—half tired, half enamored more and more each day by her favorite person in the entire world.

"Try not to terrorize each other this weekend, okay?"

"And why would you assume that?" Stevie asked, letting her hands rest on top of his.

"Because I know you," Brendon answered. "I know Maverick. And I know you and Maverick."

"Fine. I'll try my best."

Brendon raised a brow.

"I promise."

Once Stevie and Brendon were dressed, they exited their bedroom to find Maverick at the door with Dewey by his side. Both were Crocs—even Dewey; they were a gift from his stepmom—and both looked exactly like they had just woken up moments ago.

Maverick opened the door. Stared for a millisecond. Then immediately closed it again.

"Can you pick up some chili oil while you're there?" Stevie asked. Thank god Maverick knew how to drive in snow because she couldn't fulfill her promise if she didn't have the bare essentials to make it through the weekend. "And not that Momofuku shit. Lao Gan Ma only."

Maverick turned around, frowning and in sports mode. "What the fuck would I buy you Momofuku instead of Lao Gan Ma?"

"Given what this fridge is stocked with, I have to be clear."

"Hope you like what's in the fridge because that's what we've got since I can't move the car."

Stevie stopped searching said barren fridge. Looked at him, eyes questioning. Even Brendon looked confused.

"... What do you mean you can't move the car? Is it 'cause you're a terrible driver?"

"I'm not a bad driver—"

"You're a bad driver," Brendon interrupted. He appeared more concerned by the second. "But why can't you move the car?"

"It snowed. Maybe kind of... a lot."

Stevie swallowed. "I thought you said it had those snow tire things."

Snow tires sounded fake as fuck, but if it meant they could get the hell out of that cabin and into a nice, cozy grocery store with all the delicious goodies they needed for a weekend away in the snow, then she could convince herself to believe they were real.

"We do," Maverick clarified. "But the snow is... intense. Right now."

She turned to his better half. Emphasis on the better. "Everleigh, you're a better driver." Stevie knew that to be the truth because their resident professional driver Brendon Ellie, Formula One World Champion, said so more than once before. "Can you go to the store?"

"No," Maverick said.

Everleigh threw a sugar cube across the room. Missed Maverick but Dewey scored big. "I am a better driver than you."

"I wasn't saying no to that." Maverick looked dismayed at the dog eating the sugar cube. Probably not in most veterinarian-recommended canine diets, but Dewey seemed to be enjoying himself. And that was before eating the rest of his personal yule log. "It's... It's at least forty centimeters. Maybe almost fifty."

"You cannot be serious," Stevie groaned. Mostly because of the being snowed in part, but the metric system didn't help either.

"I wish I was kidding."

Brendon sat down. Disbelief anchored every inch of his face. For someone who spent a good chunk of his time traveling around the world, including to Windsor's home base in London, he seemed to be genuinely distraught. "So we're not going to buy more alcohol? At all? For how long?"

"I—until it melts enough. To move the car. The car's buried."

"Remember when you told me it wasn't that bad yesterday and I was being dramatic—" Stevie started.

Maverick took three deep breaths before proceeding. "It wasn't that bad yesterday."

"I can't believe this." Stevie paced around the living room and Dewey tilted his head, ears back, watching her every move. "A whole weekend without Lao Gan Ma. I'm going to lose my mind."

Everleigh, bless her heart, tried her best. "There's Marmi—"

"Don't finish that sentence. Please." Her panic sent mixed signals to her stomach, causing her to suddenly grow ferociously hungry. If she didn't get food in her system right then, she would have to fling herself out into the show and hope that she never woke up. A quick scan of the cabin reminded her that their supplies were minimal at best. Aside from a container of cookies sitting in the middle of the kitchen island. "I'm going to die in this cabin and all I have are these cookies."

"Stev, I don't think that's—" Brendon tried to warn. But heeding his warning meant waiting long enough to listen to it, and Stevie didn't have the time or patience to do so.

As soon as Stevie ripped into the bag and ate a cookie, it was sent flying across the room upon the realization that it tasted foul. Possibly the worst cookies she had ever eaten in her life. And even worse, the taste left behind in her breath made her want to throw up. "What the hell kind of cookie is this—"

"Ew," Maverick said as he kicked it off his Crocs and right at Dewey who was excited at being so spoiled that morning. "Those would be Milkbones."

Stevie tried to scrape any remnants off her tongue. "Why would you buy dog treats that look like cookies—"

"Why would you eat something if you didn't know what it was—"

"Why would you put dog treats where everyone puts normal cookies—"

"Because we don't have any normal cookies—"

Maybe Stevie was being a little over dramatic, but sue her for being annoyed that all they had were fucking dog treats instead of, perhaps, actual human food. And considering they had no means of getting out of the blizzard she wasn't even aware was happening in the first place, she had zero patience for any of it.

She looked at Brendon who tried his best not to make any sudden movements in fear of setting either of them off. "Babe, did you need help packing up your stuff? 'Cause I will be going home as soon as the snow melts."

"If you unbury the car and shovel the driveway, I'll drive you right now," Maverick taunted.

Stevie considered how long it would take her to walk to the front door, grab a handful of snow, and throw it at his face. Maybe even just throw him outside instead. "Did anyone hear that? Sounds like there's a garbage truck outside."

"I'm pretty sure there aren't going to be any flights right now," Brendon said. "And if there are, it'll take forever to get to the airport."

"That's fine." Stevie crossed her arms. Tried not to inhale her own breath. "We can wing it."

"She can walk," Maverick said. Such a slapable face.

Stevie decided then and there that this exercise in poor planning was not worth it anymore. The woman who regularly wore Christmas sweaters well into the new year had turned into the Grinch overnight, and she was ready to fly all the way back to Honolulu where she could finally feel human again. "Everleigh, I'll be in my room if you need me."

"The second we can get out, I promise I'll bake you some cookies," Everleigh said, trying her best.

"She has a whole bag of Milkbones she's welcome to," Maverick buzzed in like a fucking bug.

"Kingston," Everleigh snapped. "Rude."

Maverick paused. Took a look at Stevie, albeit very quickly. "The cookies would be worth the wait, Stev."

"Thank you, Everleigh." Stevie lifted her nose high before walking back toward their room. The bed was calling her name. So was home. "Cookies would be a nice snack for my flight home. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have some packing to do."

After brushing her teeth about five times to remove the aftertaste of Millkbones, Stevie tried to watch a movie while packing her bags but kept getting distracted by anything and everything. Twitter notifications, texts from Jun, voice notes from Rami with new music, the book she bought at LAX. (She realized how much she loathed the Jim Carey version of How the Grinch Stole Christmas compared to the superior 1966 animated version.) Even blasting her favorite curated Christmas playlist couldn't help her pack faster. Not that it mattered. Given how much it had snowed overnight, it wouldn't have suddenly melted by the time she finished. And that didn't consider the fact that she had thrown just about everything around the room last night because she couldn't find one sparkly collar she knew she packed for Dewey.

Something scratched at the door and Stevie's head spun around. Part of her wanted it to be Maverick because the sound came from somewhere closer to the ground and that meant she could kick him in the face. But she was not surprised to find Dewey standing there instead when she quietly opened the door.

Dewey scampered inside the room and Stevie locked them inside, far away from the man outside that was getting on Stevie's nerves. The Shiba Inu cuddled her on the floor and made her laugh as she watched him chase his tail before he eventually settled perfectly into the one open spot in her open suitcase.

"No," Stevie scolded and pointed at the bed. "I gotta get the hell out of here."

Dewey stayed put.

"Dewey."

He wagged his tail.

"Move, please." She pointed at him, to the bed, and then back at him, but it only resulted in him licking her finger.

His tail stopped moving.

Stevie crossed her arms. "Don't think I won't just bring you with me."

Dewey stretched out—ooh, big stretch—and then rested his head on the cup of one of her bras.

"Do you even know how expensive those are—" she started before reminding herself that she was talking to a dog. Her stepson, sure, but still a dog. Stevie leaned over and rested her head in front of his, trying her best to ignore how badly his breath smelled. (Not unlike how her breath smelled not that long ago.) "Don't give me that look. You know your dad better than anyone else. I'm going to rip his hair out if I stay here any longer."

He wasn't listening. Or he was listening and decidedly responding in the only way a dog could.

Stevie sighed before dragging herself back to bed. She had no idea how long she lay there, staring at that shitty movie. Eventually, her eyes drifted closed, but not before Dewey had jumped onto the bed and nestled himself into her arms. And before she knew it, they were both snoring away.