Page 77 of The Best I Never Had

“We can’t,” I say. “I promised her I’d be there.”

About twenty minutes ago, the beautiful, clear blue sky was suddenly taken over by dark, ominous clouds, and ten minutes ago—thirty minutes from us reaching the inn—the skies opened up.

If I had stuck to my original plan, I’d have made it back before the storm. Instead, Owen and I grabbed lunch at this adorable place a few blocks out of downtown that was covered from floor to ceiling with kitschy paintings of Scottish terriers and then wandered around downtown Elk Ridge.

I told myself that this thing with him isn’t selfish. We’re just exploring what we could be without making it a whole dramatic thing, right? But my decision today was selfish. I had a simple task—grab the rings and get back in time to back Addy up at the spa—and instead I spent the day laughing and flirting.

Owen lets out another hiss as we take a curve too close to the edge for comfort. “Addy would rather have you at the wedding than you die trying to get back for a goddamn spa trip.”

Logically I know this is true, but she’s been so stressed over her relationship with this family. I don’t think my friendship with Camila or Diana’s obsession with me and Owen has helped. And even if I didn’t feel guilty over my role in all this, she asked me to be there. That’s enough. I screwed this up by choosing my wants over Addy’s needs.

And it’s not like we’re actually going to die.

I plan to just keep driving and ignore Owen’s concerns, until my tires hit a slick spot that sends our car coasting. Everything in me goes hot and tight all at once, and my eyes shoot to Owen to see the same look of panic on his face.

All the training from years of driving in Florida thunderstorms kicks in even as my heart thunders as wildly as the weather outside. I take my foot off the pedal, gently steering us until we get enough traction to pull off onto one of the runaway ramps, and I bring the car to a stop.

As soon as the parking brake’s on, Owen’s hands are on me, unclipping my seat belt and running up my arms and over my shoulders as he pulls me into his lap. “It’s okay. We’re okay.”

I bury my head in his neck, muttering “fuck” on repeat as my heart rate comes down. His warmth isn’t enough to stop the way my body shakes.

“We have to get off the road,” he says, placing a kiss on my temple.

My eyes flood with tears. “We’re only twenty minutes away. We can make it.”

His hands come to my cheeks. “These roads are dangerous in the best of conditions. But right now, all it takes is one more puddle for us to go off the side of the mountain.”

I’m not ready to give up. “Let’s just call the inn. I’m sure there’s someone with a big truck that can handle the roads like this.”

“Doubt we have service,” Owen says, but pulls his phone out to check, confirming what he knew he’d see.

“Let’s just wait here for it to clear up.”

“And wait for another car to hit that same spot and slam into us?” he asks. I glance out his window at the steep slope before he sets me back in the driver’s seat. “These storms can go for hours, and I’m not letting you kill yourself because you feel guilty. Now put the car in drive and follow my directions somewhere safe.”

I blink away the tears, but do what he says, driving slowly and carefully to a dirt road. Another couple hundred yards of mud later, he has me pull off by a wooden fence.

“Where are we?” I ask.

Owen leans forward, looking out the windshield at the torrent. “The far side of my Uncle Dennis’s property. There’s a barn about a hundred feet through that gate. Let’s spend the storm there instead of stuck in this tiny car. Yeah?”

His question is soft, like if he presses too hard I’ll break into a thousand shards, but when I give him a stiff nod, he throws his door open, bolting through the pouring rain. I head out right behind him, and within seconds, I’m drenched. It takes less than a minute to reach the barn, but I feel each step, each pelt of the raindrops on my skin, like the lash of a whip.

You broke Addy’s trust.

She asked you for one thing.

You left her alone when she told you she needs you.

You’re selfish, just like Mom, and Addy’s going to hate you just like she hates her.

I bolt past Owen, yanking on the handle with enough force to send it flying. The barn door bounces aggressively off the metal stopper. It ricochets halfway back before Owen gets ahold of it, slipping in behind me and sliding it all the way closed. He huffs a laugh, shaking his head so water droplets fly everywhere.

My body is vibrating, and I pace the space between hay bales. “I can’t believe I let this happen.”

Owen walks over, rubbing his hands up and down my arms to warm me. “We’ll head back once the storm stops. It should only be a few hours.”

“In a few hours, I’ll have missed the spa trip, assuming they even go when they can’t find us. Fuck! They’re going to cancel the trip and this was Addy’s chance to win your mom over.”