Page 28 of The Best You've Ever Had

“Of course we did. Not much else to do around here, being snowed in and all.” Dante throws a dirty towel in the washing machine that’s adjacent to the door. “You twodoknow you don’t need to shovel. I bought a new heavy-duty snowblower that’ll finish the job in half the time, if you’re trying to get out of here.” He gestures to his son, suddenly remembering something. “Hey,if you’re heading out though, think you could pick up Mick’s prescription at the pharmacy? You could drop it off on the way to your Christmas party tomorrow.”

I feel the way Ben’s muscles seize up when his dad mentions the party, like his whole body has hit the brakes. “Yeah, I can. But I wasn’t planning on going to the party. With all the stuff with Mick going on, I thought I’d skip it this year.”

A look of encompassing sadness crashes over Dante. “Your grandpa wants you to still live life and have fun. You’re not chained here everyday. This could be days or months. No one knows. The one thing Idoknow is that he doesn’t want you missing out on things because of him.”

“I don’t know.” Conflicted, he won’t meet his dad’s eye. “It still feels wrong.”

“Honestly, he could use the rest. The last couple days have been a lot for him.” Dante glances right at me, a silent plea on his face to help them both out.

I feel every hope I had of getting away from Ben swirling down the drain at record speed. That’s what I get for thinking I could escape this. No one knows better than me that life has a cruel way of snatching back nearly everything youthoughtyou had. But damn it, I can’t be selfish like I usually am. Not when the weight of Dante’s pleading stare is pinning me down.

I look up at Ben from under the crook of his arm. “Your dad is right. You should go and let Mick rest. I can go with you, if you want.”

Dante smiles with relief, as Ben’s head snaps to look at me in surprise. He thought I’d be up to my usual antics of not wanting to be near him—and thus, being on his side of not going. But of course, we don’t operate that way. Of course, I’m going to do the exact opposite of what he wants. Most importantly, this is what’s best for everyone, which is why I’m here in the first place.

Chapter Ten

Layla

The thingabout running away from your problems is that they usually still manage to catch up to you. When my father left us high and dry after that winter, I mentally shoved him out of my thoughts. It still was never enough to not leave its mark though. In relationships, I always managed to put up a barrier. I still had trust problems, and overreactions because I knew we’d end up exactly like my parents.

Even at the age of eighteen, I couldn’t have run away from Havenbrook any faster. I had never been more ready to put this town in my rearview mirror. It’s exactly what I did. And I never returned, until now.

My mother was well aware of the fact that stepping foot into my hometown was an awful lot like mentally stepping onto thin ice—too much pressure, and the whole fucking thing would splinter under my feet, dragging me under with it.

But being back here now, I can see that leaving didn’t change a thing. It still holds the same good memories, and the same shitty ones. It’s just that time has lessened the hurt of the bad, and contrasted the airy feeling of the good.

Ben is behind the wheel, and I’m settled in the passenger seat as a popular song from our middle school days blasts from the radio.

He reaches over and turns the volume all the way down, clearly disliking what was playing. Encroaching on my right as a polite passenger, I crank the volume back up. It’s one of those early two-thousands boy band songs that I was obsessed with and had memorized every word of the lyrics to.

I hum along, half because I still think it’s catchy as hell, and half because I know it will irk him.

Gripping the steering wheel, he glances over. “I think you like to torture me.”

“And why would you think that? I’m just enjoying listening to some great music.”

As he switches lanes, I take the opportunity to stare at him. He’s always been attractive, but now he’s more than that. It’s confidence, and a quiet undercutting humor. He could easily have any woman he wants, yet he’s not boring like the rest of the men back in the city that rely solely on their looks.

“Do you remember when you used to say you were going to marry the lead singer of this band?” he asks.

“I may slightly remember having a tiny crush on him.”

“Tiny crush is putting it lightly. You had multiple posters of him in your room. I think I even saw lipstick on one from where you apparently tried to kiss it.”

“Have I told you lately that I hate you?” I deadpan.

“HaveItold you lately that I think you don’t mean that?” He turns and smiles at me before turning back to the road. “Plus, I have a confession about your past rockstar infatuation that will make you feel better.”

“What is it? You were in love with him too? Honestly, who wasn’t.”

“No, not that. I was jealous.”

I furrow my brows. “Jealous of who exactly?”

“Of him. The singer.”

“Why?” I ask, incredulously.

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