Page 21 of The Best I Never Had

My sister rarely curses, but this time it’s well earned. We’re standing on a wooden platform looking out at a waterfall, gently sloping rocks with a constant stream of water flowing over them. Visitor after visitor takes their place at the top, scooching as the stream builds up enough strength to carry them along the sixty-foot slope until they land in a pool of water at the bottom. I shiver just looking at it.

The angle of the rocks isn’t too steep. So why is everyone speeding down the incline like Mario Andretti trying to win the Daytona 500?

This is no human-engineered slide where you know what you’re getting. Each slider moves down the rocks differently, completely at the whims of nature, the slightest shift of their weight getting them caught up in a different current and sending them along a new path.

“When you said Sliding Rock, you literally meant a rock you slide on,” I say, tilting my head as a family of five stretches across the wide top of the rock, counting down before pushing off.

Owen chuckles next to me. “Not the most creative name.”

“This can’t be safe,” I say as two friends going down collide, their shoulders slamming together.

“Which is why we won’t be going on it,” Addy says.

“It isn’t dangerous,” Owen says, his brow furrowed like he’s working through every scenario. “People have been doing it for hundreds of years.”

Harrison slides his arms around Addy’s waist, tugging her close to him. “Come on, babe. You know you want to go.”

He’s right. Life has forced Addy into the perfect, responsible box, but she’s got an adrenaline streak. Like last year, when she took me to Universal for my birthday and I convinced her to go on the VelociCoaster. I spent the next two hours with my head in a toilet while she rode it three more times. I always wonder who she’d be if we’d been raised differently, in a home that provided the security for her to explore her wild side instead of dozens that required to her to always be levelheaded.

When Addy huffs, Harrison pulls her closer. “If you try it and you don’t want to go again, I’ll grow out that beard you’ve been begging me for.”

Addy turns her head so she can see him. “And no backing out when it gets all patchy to start?”

“I swear. That’s how confident I am that you’ll love this.”

Addy shakes out her arms. “Fine. I’ll do it. Once.”

Harrison plants a smacking kiss on her cheek. “That’s my girl.”

I step closer to Owen, dropping my voice to a whisper. “Are they always this nauseatingly adorable?”

“Worse,” he whispers back, the corner of his mouth tugging up. “You up for it?”

I’m about to open my mouth to say hell no. My visit to Universal was enough to show me that I do not, in fact, enjoy the feeling of my stomach swooping. As for the drop into freezing cold water at the end, who does like that? You don’t grow up in Florida and willingly put yourself in water below seventy degrees.

But before I can speak, Addy says, “If I’m doing it, Thea’s doing it.”

I can’t help but laugh at the way she shimmies her shoulders. She’d let me back out if I thought I couldn’t handle it, but she gets so few moments like this, carefree and joyful, and I want to be a part of this memory for her.

Owen catches my eye, and I see the challenge there, like he’s sure I’m going to bail at any second.

“You think I’m too scared?”

His small smile grows. “It’s cold. I mean, really cold. Like, can’t feel your limbs after cold.”

“Trying to scare me off, Hayes?”

Owen smirks. “Just giving you fair warning, Pappas.”

I start to respond, but all brain function is wiped out when Owen grabs the back of his shirt, pulling it off in one smooth motion. My mouth goes dry as the Sahara at the expanse of tan skin before me. He’s all lean muscle, not jacked like men who spend hours at the gym so they can brag about how much they can lift, and I’m struck with the overwhelming desire to see if those pecs are as solid as they look.

I spin away from him, hoping it was quick enough that none of our group—most especially him—caught my ogling. I lift my tank top over my head, unsnapping my jean shorts and letting them drop to the wood deck, unable to resist looking over my shoulder to see if Owen’s watching me like I watched him.

He’s not.

He’s at the side of the deck, hands gripping the wooden railing as he watches the swimmers glide through the pool to the steps. I shouldn’t be disappointed by that.

“Carry me over,” Addy says to Harrison when she realizes we’ll have to walk through ankle-deep water to reach the hill leading to the top. “If I feel the temperature of the water, I’ll chicken out.”