Page 134 of Wildest Dreams

A man who’d shattered my heart.

The ache I felt seized every nerve ending in my body. It hurt so much I couldn’t breathe. I was fighting for air, gasping at the sensation. The jealousy, the anger, the disappointment, the sadness—it all slammed into me at the same time like a freight train. Yet tossed inside this cyclone of negative emotion, I still couldn’t find it in myself to regret every kiss, every hug, every moment I writhed beneath him.

Because Taylor was right.

The high really was worth the pain.

RHYLAND

Iwoke up to the fucking apocalypse.

Thunder cracked outside my window. It sounded like a leather leash whipping at skin.

My phone alarm hadn’t buzzed yet. I tapped my screen, checking the time. 5:15 a.m.

Rubbing my eyes, I peered through the window. On top of it raining like a motherfucker, patio furniture was swirling in the air, curling upward to the sky before crashing onto the ground. I heard shouting and screams, muffled by the shrieking winds, and squinted to focus on the figures of Bruce and Jolene, all bundled up and weighted down by big jackets, herding their cattle into the stables.

I bolted out of the bed as if my ass were on fire, not bothering to put on a shirt, and skidded across the hallway. The front door splintered off its hinges as I ripped it open and ran barefootto Bruce. He was locking up the stables and pushing heavy furniture against the door, his wife nowhere in sight now.

“Coltridge, son, good to have you here. Come help me push this bench against the door.” He seemed completely unbothered by what was happening, which begged the fucking question: Was I in business with a goddamn psychopath?

I grabbed the large wooden bench in one hand and angled it against the door handle, my eyes unwavering from Bruce. “Is this doomsday?” I demanded. “Because if so, I need to get home even faster to be with Dylan.”

“I’m afraid ain’t no one flying out anywhere in this weather.” He squinted up at the gray sky, the downy cotton balls he called hair dancing in the wind.

“What?” I felt the life draining from my fucking body.

“I said, ain’t no one flying out anywhere in thi—”

“I heard you the first time.” I grabbed him by the collar of his puffy jacket, fisting my fingers around the cloth and tugging him to me so my nose crushed his. I was beyond furious. I was somewhere between feral and murderous. “How long is this shit going to last?”

“May I suggest, son, that you release me before your whole darn future goes down my overflowin’ drain?” He squinted.

I released him so suddenly he stumbled backward, his ass landing in a pool of mud. Turning around, I stalked back inside. I needed to check the weather report. Then I needed to get a car and drive out of the eye of this tornado to the nearest operating airport. Ideally, a private one with a plane I could charter.

Bruce got up to his feet with a loud grunt, chasing behind me. “It’s going to be like this till five, I’m afraid, but it’ll clear out soon. It was completely spontaneous.”

“So is your upcoming death.” I made my way to my room—the same one I’d occupied with Dylan and Gravity five weeks ago.

Dylan.

She was never going to forgive me for letting her down if I didn’t make it to my babysitting gig. Cal was already on a plane alone, en route to New York, and they had no backup plan. Just me.

I flipped my suitcase open on the bed, shoveling my clothes into it haphazardly.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Bruce got in my way, trying to stop me. I pushed him so hard he slammed against the closet.

“What does it look like? I’m packing.”

“The airports are closed.”

“I’m driving out to Irvine.”

“It’s a two-hour drive.” He snorted. “You can’t drive in this weather.”

“Wanna fucking bet?”

“I’ll rephrase. No one in this retreat is going to give you their vehicle to drive yourself into sure death. Just call your lil miss. She’ll understand.”

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