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Rain slams into me instantly—cold, heavy, and blinding. It pounds across the sky sideways, and my curls are soon plastered to my cheeks. My sweater clings like wet paper, and I want to cut it off, take something to it and rip it up until it’s just me and my skin against the harsh slap of rain. Roaring thunder cracks so loud in the nearby mountains that it feels like the ground jumps beneath me.

But I stand there anyway.

Because my mom promised. She promised she was coming.

And maybe they don’t believe her, but I do. I have to.

If I give up now, throw in the towel and let myself fall for it, then what was all this for? Not even just this season, but our…entire relationship? My whole life I have chased and chased to be with her, and if today falls through, if she falls through…

No. I won’t believe it, I refuse.

The screen door bangs open behind me. “Felicity!” Rowen’s voice cuts through the storm, harsh and confused. He jogs toward me, covering his face with his hand. “What are you doing? You’re gonna catch a cold. Or get hit by lightning.”

I shake my head, backing a step away as rain pours down my spine, keeping my eyes locked around the corner of the house where the Willow Creek’s massive entrance gate sits. Every strike of lightning, every white flash, feels like it might be headlights for a split moment, and then the idea is gone, and my hope slowly dies out.

A tiny flame flickering in the rain.

“She’s coming,” I say, voice breaking, more to myself than to Rowen. “She promised. She promised me she was coming.”

Another thunderclap booms overhead; it’s close this time, and still I don’t move. I can’t.

Because if I go inside, I have to accept the truth sitting in the pit of my stomach. I would have to brave a bigger storm in there than I would out here, and I can’t face that.

Rowen steps closer, eyes soft even in the rain. “Felicity! Come inside. Please.”

I hug my arms around myself, rain dripping from my lashes. If I wasn’t still annoyed with him, then I would have followed. But he’s not getting anything from me. I am not leaving this very spot unless it’s to meet a car in the driveway.

“She promised,” I whisper again, barely audible. “And she wouldn’t break it. Not this time.”

But the storm rages on.

And no headlights appear.

Chapter Thirty-Nine Knox

I wait as long as I can stand it before running out in the storm. Mom shouts at me to stay in before I get hit by lightning, but my body is racing toward Felicity.

Rowen is shouting at her to come in, but she’s locked in, her gaze fully set on the gates at the front of the property. Waiting for them to open.

“Flick! Get over here, now!” He sounds like a dad laying down the law, and she’s not having it. Actually, she’s not having anything—she’s a statue out in this storm, and Rowen isn’t going to be enough to get her to move.

I barrel down the steps toward her and clasp Rowen on the shoulder on the way. “I’ll get her.” He hesitates, going out with me and then stopping. “She won’t leave if you’re here.”

Rowen looks from me to my girlfriend in the storm, and I shake my head. “She’s not ready yet. She won’t come in until you’re inside.”

Hurt and disappointment flashes in his eyes like the lightning crashing around us. He glances back to her, and I see the internal battle between running after her and giving her the space she needs before he nods. “Okay. Yeah, okay. Just try to get her in. She’s going to get hurt.”

“I know.”

It’s the only thing I want right now—to bring her inside, wrap her up in a towel and have her warm, dry, and safe.

I plan to tell her that, but when I get within earshot, close enough to caress her shoulder, she turns on a dime, only relaxing when she realizes it’s me.

“She’s going to come.” Felicity wraps her hands around her arms and pulls tight. “She’s on her way, Knox. She’ll be here soon.”

I reach her, lightning and thunder crashing around us almost as steadily as each raindrop. My fingers reach out for her waist, and I tug us both down to the muddy ground. She follows easily, like she’s in a trance and anyone could drag her down.

“She’s coming, Knox.” She pulls closer to me to say it just loud enough over the rain. “She just got stuck.”