Page 14 of The Best Man Wins

“Sure did. Spent my childhood running up and down that road.”

A sprig of hope grows in my chest. “So your family owns…all this land?”

He snorts a laugh. “All thirty acres of it, darling. We Daltons go all in.”

Our conversation gets cut short when Roxanne pulls us all into her home. It’s a cozy place, filled with warm colors, swaths of reds and oranges, aboriginal rugs laid on the ground, and a large deer head stuffed over the fireplace. It smells like open firewood and coffee beans, and I immediately feel nostalgic, though I can’t pinpoint where the feeling comes from.

When Cora steps inside, she’s breathing light, like a hummingbird.

“I’ll show you to your rooms so you can put your bags down.” Roxanne waves us all in.

“The three of us have a hotel room booked down the road,” Thom explains.

“We’ve got room enough for all of you to squeeze in,” Roxanne tells him.

“Thank you, but we won’t impose,” Thom reassures her. “We should check in and reconvene in the morning.”

Cora’s hand reaches out suddenly and squeezes my arm. “You aren’t leaving already, are you?” Her grip is tight, and her eyes flicker between mine frantically. She looks like a fox in a dog kennel, and I can’t blame her—she’s out of place, with a family she doesn’t know, with only her ice-cold brother to comfort her.

It’s my job to make her happy, so I smile. “I’d love to stay.” I move my hand to Thom’s arm and murmur, “I’ll catch up with you two later.”

His eyebrows lift, but he nods in acknowledgement. He and Marlee say their goodbyes and then duck out. I adjust my bag over my shoulder, and we scale the steps to the second floor. Roxanne asks Cora about the plane ride—oh, and has she ever been to South Carolina, what’s New York like this time of year, and does her troublemaking son give her too much of a hard time?

Cora’s answers are mainly monosyllabic. Upstairs, there is a long hallway with rooms on either side. “We’ve got a large family,” Roxanne explains. “Never seemed to have enough beds.”

“Do you think I could shower? Plane rides always knock me off my feet,” Cora asks.

“Of course, dear!” Roxanne says. “Everyone, get comfortable, I’ll get some snacks going downstairs.”

Excused, Cora disappears into her room. As Roxanne passes by me to go back downstairs, she squeezes my arm and gives me a smile. “Stay the night, dearie. She could use a friend.”

A friend. That’s what I am now. Admittedly, I’m touched by the upgrade. “I’d love to, thank you,” I tell her.

Braxton doesn’t look quite as pleased with the decision. He shoots me a look and then slips into his room next to mine. Well, tough. He’ll have to get used to not getting what he wants eventually.

I slip into my room. I’m guessing this used to belong to one of Ray’s sisters, because the walls are pastel and the bed is a four-poster, poofy thing with draping awning. I drop my bag and flop down on the bed, letting the mattress sink underneath me. My God. It’s like lying on a cloud.

I close my eyes for a moment. I try to picture the house’s exterior. Okay, so maybe it’s not the beautiful, white-columned plantation house I wanted. But that doesn’t mean I can’t make something extraordinary of it.

A voice in the back of my head nags, What have you gotten yourself into, Susie? You’re asking for another breakdown.

No. I can do this. I can handle this.

My phone buzzes in my pocket. I fish it out and glance at the screen.

My heart drops. Ace.

On one side: Connect?

On the other hand: Disconnect?

Remember what Thom said. Boys are nothing but terrible distractions. I hit the red button and end the call. He doesn’t leave a voicemail. Of course not. Why give me anything permanent?

The coward.

I hesitate and then find myself dialing Thom. I put the phone to my ear and hear it ring a couple times before his voice comes on.

“Yes?”

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