Page 104 of The Best I Never Had

“To win her back, obviously,” Lynne says with an epic eye roll.

I smile at my wild, overwhelming, supportive, perfect family. “If you’re coming, get on the damn bus and let’s go.”

I’m the last one on, taking the seat Harrison saved for me up front.

I rub a hand over Gabriel’s hair. “Drive like a maniac, kid.”

For once, he doesn’t make a comment about not being a kid. He just grins a slightly terrifying smile and turns the key.

And I settle in to figure out what I’m going to say when we reach the airport. Assuming she isn’t already gone.

Chapter 32

THEA

One fun fact I never thought I’d have to learn? When you’re in your late twenties, sleeping on an airport seat is not an acceptable choice. My back is aching so bad I don’t know if I’ll ever stand properly again. A crick in my neck is forcing me to keep it tilted just slightly to the left, making the world around me lopsided.

By the time I dropped off Vaughn’s rental car at the Asheville airport, TSA was closed for the night. Getting a hotel room was out of the question after draining my account for this plane ticket, so I found a seat by the baggage claim carousels and fell into a sleep that included mutilated versions of all the best moments from the week. Baking with Owen, until Diana kicks in the door and drags me out by my hair, or us together in the barn, only to have it collapse, burying Owen and making it impossible to get to him.

When the sun rises, I drag myself to the TSA checkpoint, turning my phone back on to access my ticket. Messages flood in. Owen’s name over and over again until it swims in my vision. I ignore it, scanning my ticket quickly and turning it back off.

I go through security, getting questioning looks from the agent who clocks my puffy eyes and splotchy face. It earns me a special pat-down, but I’d take anything to distract from the way my heart is back at the inn, leaving me with nothing to pump the blood through my veins.

I find another hard seat, wondering if I should grab a crappy airport sandwich from the little kiosk, but the idea of eating makes my stomach roil. My eyes close, hoping for the smallest bit of rest after such a shitty night. I’m drifting off, in that space between waking and dreaming where everything feels a little magical, when I hear my name. It’s soft and kind, relieved, like the speaker has been searching for me all their life. It feels like home. My lips lift, thanking my brain for making this dream pleasant—no angry mothers or murderous barns—when a hand closes over my shoulder.

My brain takes a few minutes to catch up, to recognize that I’m not, in fact, dreaming. Addy’s standing over my seat.

“You haven’t left yet,” she says.

“There were no flights until this afternoon,” I say, my brain struggling to catch up. “I’m sorry, I tried to leave sooner.”

She drops into the seat next to me. “I’m so sorry, Tia.”

I blink at her, my mind not at full operating capacity after a shitty night’s sleep. “You’re … I’m sorry, what?”

She takes my hand. “I never should have said what I said last ni—”

“But it’s true,” I cut in as my eyes flood with tears again. I’d have guessed I’d be too dehydrated at this point to produce more. “I am selfish.”

“No—”

I don’t let her finish, words pouring out as my breaths come too quickly. “I’m not like Mom. I’m worse. She was sick. Owen isn’t an addictive substance. He didn’t strip me of my free will. It was all me, every moment where I could have walked away and chose not to. Every second was all my selfishness.”

“No,” Addy says, clutching my hands so hard it hurts. “I’m the selfish one. I asked you to give up your long-term happiness so I could avoid a bit of discomfort. I saw that this thing between you and Owen wasn’t temporary, and I ignored it because it was easier for me. I hate myself for trying to take him away from you. It had nothing to do with you and everything to do with my paranoia that I’d lose Harrison because that’s what happens when I have something good. It never lasts, and I’ve been waiting for months for the other shoe to drop.”

I hate that she’s been fighting that fear, and I hate that I’m the reason she has it to begin with.

I suck in a shuddering breath. “I’m the other shoe.”

Addy releases a surprised laugh. “What?”

I want to laugh with her, but I can’t when I feel destroyed. I can’t even look at her, staring instead at my ratty suitcase. “I’m the reason we were moved so much. The reason you had so many of those good things stripped away. The reason you weren’t adopted by the Fischers as a toddler. Your life would have been so much better without me.”

Addy kicks my suitcase out of the way before kneeling in front of me. Her jaw is as tight as the grip on my hands. “None of that is true. We lost every home because the system is broken, not because you are. You protected me. You’re the reason I’m still here. I don’t think I’d have made it through our childhood alone. You saved me.”

I choke on a sob. As much as I want to believe her, I know the truth. “I know you feel guilty about last night and think you need to fix it, but you—”

Addy starts crying, too. “I do feel guilty, because you’ve been there my entire life, and I’m just realizing that I’ve never thanked you. I never made it clear that you’ve been the light of my life. I don’t know why the Fischers didn’t adopt us together, but they made a huge mistake missing out on a life with you. And whatever their reasons were, I don’t care. I wouldn’t trade you for anything, much less those extra years with them.”