Page 77 of Thin Ice

"Ethan stopped three times."

"Twice." Ethan was out of the car. "Two stops. And one of them was for Remy's coffee."

"You offered."

"Because you were doing that thing with your knee."

"What thing with my knee?"

"The bouncing. The pre-caffeine bounce. I can feel it through the seat."

"That's not a thing."

"It's absolutely a thing. It starts and doesn't stop until you have a cup in your hand."

Remy looked at me. "He's making this up."

Ethan just shook his head.

Alex came out of the house. Ethan crossed the yard immediately and pulled him into a hug. His hand on the back of Alex's head, holding him there for a few seconds. He said something low that I couldn't hear. Alex nodded. They both smiled when they pulled apart. True friends.

Remy went next. Shorter, no ceremony. He looked Alex in the face. "You eating?"

"Yeah."

"You sleeping?"

"Mostly."

Remy held the look for one more second. "Good." And he walked past him toward the house, already scanning the kitchen through the window, probably clocking whether there was food that met his standards or whether he'd need to intervene.

The rental was a mile down the shore road. A-frame cabin, cedar siding, a dock that had been pulled for winter. Three bedrooms. Noah and Priya in one, Ethan and Remy in another, spare for overflow.

We unloaded the cars. Remy walked through the cabin once, opened every door, checked every window, and chose his room in under a minute — the one with the view of the frozen lake and a chair by the window. He dropped his bag and sat in the chair, and had his phone out before anyone else had found a light switch.

"He did this at the hotel in Boston too," Ethan said, watching him from the hallway. "Looking for the perfect spot to post up."

"It's not perfect. It's just the only chair that faces the water."

"Which is the perfect chair."

"Which is the correct chair."

Noah was in the kitchen unpacking the Trader Joe's tote. Actual groceries and a bunch of fancy snacks. Crackers, hummus, three kinds of cheese, trail mix, sparkling water, a bag of clementines.

"Priya made a plan," he said.

"A plan."

"For meals. For the weekend. There are columns." He held up his phone and showed me a spreadsheet. Meals across the top, days down the side, a color-coded column for dietary notes. Noah's row said EXCESSIVE CARBS in red.

"She knows your diet, that's for sure."

He nodded and laughed.

***

By two o'clock we were on the ice.