I bolted to a sitting position in the dark, Aunt Tillie’s voice still droning on and on … and on and on and on … in the back of my head. Something about “being young, restless, bold, beautiful and enjoying the days of our lives because we only have one life to live.”

Yeah, she’s not exactly subtle.

“Landon?” I reached out instinctively, hating how dry my throat was as I tried to get my bearings.

“I’m here.” Landon sounded as rough as I felt.

I turned to look at him. It was dark in the room, the only light coming from the moon through the window. He rested on his back, his hand on his forehead. His shirt was off, which seemed somehow poetic given where we’d spent our night. I couldn’t read the expression on his face.

“Are you okay?”

“Are you?”

“Other than the world’s worst case of cotton mouth and what I’m sure will grow into a raging headache tomorrow, I’m okay.”

Landon grunted as he forced himself to a sitting position. “I could use some water. I’ll grab us a few bottles from the refrigerator.”

“You’re going downstairs?”

“I won’t be gone long.” He pressed a kiss to my forehead and headed for the door. I was thankful to see he was wearing boxer shorts, because in his current mental state there was a real possibility he wouldn’t remember to check.

Once he disappeared into the quiet hallway, I slid my legs from beneath the covers and walked to the window. Thanks to the fresh snow – and there was a lot of it – the night seemed somehow brighter even though we were still hours from dawn.

That’s where Landon found me when he returned five minutes later. He had four bottles of water and a bottle of aspirin.

“Are you okay?” He left the water and aspirin on the nightstand as he shuffled behind me, sliding his arm around my waist.

“I’m fine.” I leaned against him. “So, it turns out all we had to do to escape was fall asleep.”

“Now I’m betting you wish we’d stayed in bed when we first woke in that gaudy mansion.”

That seemed like a lifetime ago. “Please don’t remind me of that. If it had been that easy … .”

“I don’t think it would’ve been that easy.” Landon moved my hair from my shoulder so he could rest his chin there. “Are you sure you’re okay? You seem … off.”

“Honestly? I was looking for snow sharks.”

Landon chuckled. “Anything?”

“It just looks like a mountain of snow.”

Landon moved his gaze to the ground outside. “That’s a lot of white stuff.”

“And I’ll bet it’s colder than what we found when we visited that last cabin in the soap opera world.”

“Probably. That only means it will be a fun day when we hike back to the guesthouse – and we’re doing that right after breakfast, by the way – so we can start a fire and cuddle in front of the television the entire afternoon.”

“Is that what you really want to do?”

Landon nodded. “Yup. You, me, hot chocolate and Netflix.”

“I could get behind that.”

Landon grinned. “Just no soap operas … or bad science fiction movies … or A Few Good Men.”

“You don’t have to worry about that one little bit.”

THE SECOND TIME WE woke with clearer heads. We were wrapped around each other, no space between us. Somehow during the night it was as if we created one being for comfort.

Surprisingly, I didn’t feel all that bad when I had a chance to wipe the crusties from my eyes and gauge my clarity and pain level.

“Are you okay?” Landon murmured. He didn’t open his eyes, but he shifted so he could run his hand over my shoulder. “You’re not sick, are you?”

“I’m feeling surprisingly spry. Perhaps being so active in our dreams beat back the hangover.”

“Or the aspirin and water we drank in the middle of the night did that.”

“Sure. If you want to be practical.”

Landon’s lips curved. “I feel pretty good, too.” He opened his eyes and pinned me with a lazy look. “Do you want to finish what we started under the disco ball?”

“Now?” My eyebrows migrated higher on my forehead. “I thought breakfast would be the first thing on your agenda.”

“I did, too. Turns out I want a little more than eggs and bacon.”

“Wow. I feel so special.”

“Just keep in mind, if music springs up out of nowhere and I get nothing but a montage again … I’m going to have a complete and total meltdown.”

I let loose with a loud chuckle. “I hope that doesn’t happen.”

“Me, too. I don’t want to cry in front of you if I can help it.”

“Wait … .” I put my hand on his shoulder before he could kiss me. “Is that still the worst thing that ever happened to you?”

Landon shrugged. “It feels that way right now. I’m sure there are worse things in the world, though.”

“Like?”

“Like you refusing to let me enjoy my morning and asking an endless series of questions.”

“And if I stop talking?”

“I’ll love you forever.”

“I thought that was already a given.”

“It is, but I’ll totally share my bacon with you if you shut up now.”

I mimed zipping my lips.

“Finally.” Landon’s smile threatened to swallow his entire face. “Now this is how I want to spend my day.”

LANDON WAS IN A POSITIVELY chipper mood when we hit the main floor. I smelled my mother’s famous blueberry pancakes from three rooms away, the heavenly scent causing my stomach to rumble in appreciation.

“I am officially starving,” I announced. “I feel as if I haven’t eaten in days.”

“That’s because we were trapped in the purgatory that is soap land for what felt like weeks.” Landon slung an arm around my shoulders. “I’m back in heaven now.”

I snickered. “I was just thinking that the pancakes smelled heavenly. I guess we’re on the same wavelength.”

“I was talking about spending time with you.”

My cheeks burned as pleasure shot through me. “You don’t have to lay it on so thick. I have every intention of spending the afternoon with you.”

“I’m not laying it on thick. I mean it.”

“Well … thank you.”

“You can thank me later. For now, let’s eat those freaking pancakes. Oh, and there’d better be bacon.”

We were almost to the kitchen, happiness oozing from us, when I heard a loud voice in the dining room. I recognized Thistle’s dulcet tones from the foyer. She didn’t sound happy.

“Don’t even think about running away from me, old lady!”

Landon and I exchanged a look before pushing open the swinging door that led to the dining room. If we thought we would get out of The Overlook without running into trouble, we were sadly mistaken. Or stupid. I was leaning toward stupid.

Aunt Tillie sat in her regular chair at the end of the table. She didn’t look particularly perturbed by Thistle’s tone, but her expression was largely unreadable.

“What’s going on?” I asked, understandably wary. “Is everything okay?”

Chief Terry sat in a center chair sipping a mug of coffee. He looked a little worse for wear, apparently his hangover raging, but the look he shot me was blasé. I felt sorry for him … but also thankful for myself.

“Thistle just stormed into the room and attacked Tillie,” Chief Terry explained. “She seems upset.”

“I think she had a bad dream or something,” Twila added, pressing a mug of coffee into my hand. “You don’t look so bad given how much you drank last night. In fact, you look pretty together. I’m surprised.”

“That makes two of us.” I slid a sidelong look to Aunt Tillie and found her watching me with unveiled interest. “I also think we all shared the same bad dream.”

Mom, who was walking through the door that separated the kitchen and dining room, pulled up short. She balanced the platter of pancakes and bacon she carried against her chest as she eyed me. “What do you mean by that?”

“Do you want to tell her, Aunt Tillie, or should I?”

Aunt Tillie wasn’t much for threats, and she clearly wasn’t worried about this potential bomb detonating. In fact, she looked eager for it to happen. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she lied.

“Oh, really, Alexis Kane?” Landon cocked an eyebrow as he sat, opting for the chair next to her so I wouldn’t take it and potentially launch the family into all-out war. “I have trouble believing that.”

“That’s probably because you’re slow,” Aunt Tillie said. “Oh, and ‘The Man.’ That makes you naturally suspicious and often unpleasant. It’s a shortcoming. I hope you overcome it eventually.”

Mom set the platter on the middle of the table and heaved a sigh only a mother sick of fighting offspring could muster. Since Aunt Tillie was often like a fourth child in the family – one no one wanted to claim – that wasn’t too far out of the realm of possibility.

“What did you do?”

“Yes, Bay, what did you do?” Aunt Tillie teased.

“I was talking to you, Aunt Tillie.” Mom was now idling at low boil. “I can tell by Thistle, Landon and Bay’s reactions that you did something obnoxious. I’m almost afraid to know what it is.”

“Do you want to know what I think?” Aunt Tillie challenged.

“Not even a little.”

“Well, I’m going to tell you anyway,” Aunt Tillie continued. “I think that Thistle likes to talk to hear herself talk. As for these two … they’ve got dirty minds. They want to eat breakfast and then head back to the guesthouse so they can do dirty things.”

Landon didn’t appear bothered by the claim, though I was a bit uneasy because Mom was watching me with the same look she reserved for mice that managed to sneak into the pantry.

“We’re planning a day of love in the afternoon,” Landon supplied, spearing two pancakes with his fork and moving them to his plate. “You know all about love in the afternoon, don’t you, Aunt Tillie?”

“I’m sure I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Aunt Tillie’s tone was icy. “If you want to turn this into a thing, perhaps we should take it into the next room. How does that sound?”

“Like absolutely nothing I want to do,” Landon replied. “I don’t want to talk about what happened last night ever again – at least not with you – and I want to focus on breakfast because I’m positively starving.”

“All right, that did it.” Mom rested her hands on the table and stared down Aunt Tillie. “What did you do?”

“Why do you assume I did anything?”

“Because I’ve known you my entire life.”

“Yes. I believe I raised you,” Aunt Tillie sniffed. “I raised you, gave of myself while thinking of only your welfare, and this is the thanks I get. My own flesh and blood is calling me a liar. It’s a terrible day in the Winchester household when this happens. I’m shocked. Shocked, I tell you.”

“What is with the theatrics?” Mom was utterly confused. “It’s almost as if you’re on a soap opera or something.”

“Imagine that,” I intoned. “A soap opera.”

“Hey, soap operas are just like real life,” Aunt Tillie said. “They’re merely heightened a bit for entertainment value.”

“Like say … slapping a polar bear or getting a brain transplant, right?” Landon slid two slices of bacon onto my plate. “Or constantly being slapped across the face and ending up shirtless.”

“Or ending up as a vampire by night and a judge by day,” I added, smiling at Chief Terry.

“Hey, those are great stories.” Aunt Tillie bit into a slice of toast. “Soap operas make the world a better place. I’ve always believed that.”

“You also seem to believe Bay is the leading lady and I’m a supporting player,” Thistle barked, clenching her hands into fists at her sides. “We’re about to have a really long talk about that. In fact, you’d better get comfortable.”

I looked to Landon and found him staring at me. “This breakfast isn’t turning out as we planned.”

“No, it’s not,” he agreed. “How would you feel about skipping breakfast and wading through a foot of snow to get home so I can warm you up there?”

“I’m okay with that. But, we don’t have any bacon at the guesthouse.”

Landon glanced at the bacon on the platter and shrugged. “I’m fine with that.” He held out a hand and helped me to my feet, ignoring the way Aunt Tillie growled at Thistle.

“If you want to be the leading lady, mouth, then you have to stop acting like the sarcastic sidekick,” Aunt Tillie snapped.

“You’re sarcastic and still get to be the leading lady.”

“That’s because I’m in a category all my own.”

“You definitely are,” I agreed, watching as Landon detoured back to the table long enough to grab a slice of bacon before directing me toward the door.

“Where are you going?” Chief Terry asked.

“We’re spending the day at home in front of the television,” Landon offered. “We’re watching Netflix, drinking hot chocolate and doing absolutely nothing else.”

“That seems like a long walk in the snow,” Mom said pragmatically. “You can stay here if you want.”

“It does seem like a long walk,” Landon agreed, breaking the bacon slice in half and handing me the bigger piece. “But something tells me it’s going to be worth it.”

“Hey, I’m not done making Aunt Tillie pay,” Thistle called to our backs. “You don’t want to miss what’s to come.”

“We’re not missing anything,” I said. “We’re simply going to spend the day telling our own story.”

“And it’s going to be better than your story,” Landon teased.

“Oh, just you wait,” Thistle said. “My story is going to be epic – and so is your punishment, old lady. You’d better start running now!”

We left them to their fight. It wouldn’t end. We knew that. It was a soap opera, after all. The story there – much like Thistle and Aunt Tillie’s fight – was never meant to end.

It wasn’t such a bad thing – once you discounted the polar bear, of course.