Page 11 of Through the Storm

But Ben just laughs. “Who says it’s over?” Before I can protest, he grabs my hand again and spins me, right there in the middle of a full-blown downpour.

“You can’t waste your first bonfire!” he shouts over the rain. “Dance in the rain with me, Katy.”

We slip in the mud, laughing until our stomachs hurt. Water drips from his hair, his shirt clinging to him, and suddenly I’m certain this feeling might actually kill me.

When he finally stops, he rests his forehead against mine. We’re breathless. Soaked. Smiling like idiots.

“See?” he whispers. “Still perfect.”

The memory fades, and the loneliness comes rushing back. I stare at the ceiling, wishing my old Ben, the one who didn’t abandon me, were here to tell me everything will be okay.

CHAPTER FOUR

ben

HOSTAGE SITUATION

Lily,Wyatt’s little sister, has been bouncing across the living room cushions of my cousins’ house for twenty minutes straight, talking my ear off the entire time.

My cousin Ella sits on the armchair, scrolling through her phone, pretending she’s the one babysitting. Danny, her golden retriever, sits at her feet like he also needs a break from the four-year-old hurricane. Meanwhile, I’ve somehow been turned into Lily’s personal jungle gym.

“Do it again, Ben!” she squeals.

I groan dramatically. “Lily, I’m getting tired.”

“But you’re a football player! You can do this, you’re very strong. The strongest!” She grabs my hands and pulls me upright.

“Ella, stop teaching her the fine art of male manipulation.”

She snorts. “You did this to yourself. You’re too fun. She imprinted.”

“I think my spine needs a break.”

Lily giggles, launches herself onto my lap, and settles her tiny hands on my cheeks.

“You make everything so much fun,” she declares.

And damn it if that doesn’t catch me completely off guard.

We finally put on a movie, something with singing animals, andLily curls up against me, head on my shoulder, humming softly.

Five minutes later, she’s out cold. The tiny tyrant finally ran out of battery.

I shift an inch to get comfortable.

Danny immediately plops down across my feet like a sandbag, sighing dramatically, pinning me into the couch.

“Ella,” I whisper, “your dog is holding me hostage.”

She glances over, grinning. “He just wants to be included.”

“He’s getting heavier,” I whisper back. “I can’t feel my toes.”

Danny thumps his tail against the carpet smugly.

Ella nods at Lily. “You’re trapped anyway.”

I look down at the tiny human drooling on my shirt. And it does something weird to me, something soft and stupid. This right here feels… good. Comfortable. Like maybe I’m not the walking cautionary tale I tell myself I am.