The blizzard howls outside the family cabin, sealing us in with it's icy grip, the cedar walls groaning under the weight of the storm. I’m nineteen, stranded here with my sister, Kylie, and my mother, Rachel, the only bed forcing us into close quarters. After last summer’s forbidden moments in the guest room, Kylie’s presence — her teasing glances, her warm touch — stirs a restless heat in me. In this cramped, snowbound loft, with the wind screaming and Rachel asleep beside us, the air crackles with a dangerous pull, tempting us toward lines we shouldn’t cross again.