Thrill Ride

by Breezie Bennett

  She nods slowly, pressing her lips together. “We always knew we’d have to say goodbye, right?”

  I study her for a second. Her stressed, worried expression. Her uncharacteristically slumped shoulders. Her clouded eyes.

  I’m in love with her. But telling her now is only going to be salt in the damn wound. A lot of fucking salt. No reason to make her feel worse or make this any harder.

  “Yeah.” I blow out a breath. “I guess we did.”

  I turn and walk out the door, cursing myself for how much I wish she would call after me. Tell me she changed her mind.

  But it’s not like I could argue with her. It’s not like I could fight her on this. How the hell could I have expected a tree to fall on her yoga studio? No one could have seen that coming.

  Maybe it is the damn universe. Some sort of planned path or whatever the fuck.

  I walk into my bedroom and shut the door, slumping down on the bed, which feels colder and lonelier than ever.

  I didn’t realize how much she changed me. How much she affected me. How much I’m going to miss her silly yoga words and her stupidly small plants and her incredible selflessness.

  The brightest light I’ve ever known is gone.

  I look up at my nightstand and grab the tiny statue she gave me the first night she was here. When she put up all her lights and colorful pillows and tiny plants and I couldn’t help but love it. I couldn’t help but love her.

  The Laughing Buddha.

  I roll it around in my hand and look at the tiny, chubby face. So full of joy and happiness and fun. It’s a perfect representation of how I felt around Melody.

  I shove my face into a pillow. “Fuck you, universe.”

  Twenty-eight

  Melody

  The ground feels like quicksand, and the air feels like cloudy, murky water. I should be glowing with excitement. I should be electrified about setting sail to find my destiny and start fresh with a new chapter in my life.

  But all I want to do is curl up into a tiny, solitary ball of sadness and cry. My heart is completely aching, like a part of me is broken and gone.

  I have no idea when or how or why I fell for Dylan. But I did, and now I have to leave. And it absolutely, totally, utterly sucks.

  Of course it’s pouring down rain as I drive the windy backroads that lead to the beachside mansion where Whitney and Chase moved after they got engaged. The road is literally one gargantuan castle after another, but I guess I’d expect nothing less from the faciest quarterback in the NFL. When he finally settles down, he settles down big.

  “Don’t cry, Melody,” I mutter like a crazy person as I cruise down the wet road, and rain sloshes off my windshield.

  This is my last stop before I leave at five a.m. tomorrow. Since I’m allowed one only item of luggage on the boat, I need Whitney’s insanely enormous suitcase so I can take everything. Plus, some quality time with my closest cousin before I leave is a really nice added benefit.

  I turn onto the paved driveway, slick with water. The gate is open as I pull through it and park on the circular drive in front of the tropical resort of a beach house.

  “Mel!” Whitney comes running out of the ten-foot front doors, holding up a hand to shield herself from the rain. Her hair is bouncing everywhere, and joy and light are beaming from her pretty face.

  I miss beaming with joy and light. I want my beam back, and I’m afraid it’s gone forever.

  “Hi, cuzzy.” I step out of my car and fall into her arms like a kid with her mother after a bad day at school.

  I don’t even care that the rain is soaking me. I’ve never cared less about anything.

  “Oh, Mel.” Whitney squeezes me tight and then pulls away, studying me with sympathy and concern. “Sweetie, are you okay?”

  Well, I was. Until she asked that simple, little question. And now everything just breaks inside me.

  I choke on a sob and feel hot tears mixing with the raindrops on my face as I shake my head slowly. Words won’t even form, but with Whitney, they don’t have to.

  “Come on. Let’s get out of the rain.” She wraps an arm around me and guides me into the house. “Hey, Six, Melody’s here!” she calls through the giant living room, which has floor-to-ceiling sliding glass doors that look out on the ocean.

  “Your new house is amazing, Whit,” I manage weakly, taking a deep breath to collect myself and calm the hell down.

  She shrugs and gives a playful eye roll. “Chase is bougie. What can I say?”

  “You guys seem really happy.” I curse the twinge of jealousy that jabs at me.

  “Hey, let’s talk about you.” Whitney gestures for us to sit down on a puffy blue sofa that faces out toward the beach. The beach I can’t bear to look at without getting washed with flashbacks of sex with Dylan.

  “I’m just…” I stare down at the shiny wood floor and try to will myself to find peace. “Nervous about the new job. It’s a big change.”

  “Melody.” Whitney arches a brow and leans back into the cushions. “You’re good at a lot of things, but lying is not one of them. What’s really going on?”

  I swallow and look at her, feeling my lip start to tremble again like a child’s. “It’s about Dylan,” I whisper.

  Whit nods slowly and reaches for my arm. “I had a feeling.”

  “What’s up, Mel?” Chase walks around the corner and into the room, his presence bringing a wave of energy and intensity and Chase-ness.

  Whitney flicks her hand through the air. “Go away. Girl talk.”

  “No, it’s all right.” I glance at Chase and smile. “He can stay.”

  He flops down on the couch next to his fiancée and throws an arm around her. They really are an insanely beautiful couple.

  “You’re sad,” he observes. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you sad.”

  I tilt my head. “It’s definitely not my default mode, that’s for sure.”

  “It’s Rivera, isn’t it?” He frowns knowingly.

  Whitney bites her lip and eyes him.

  “I really tried, you guys. I really tried not to let anything happen, and I really, really tried not to get feelings, and it just…we just…it all just got messy and complicated and involved. But like I told you on the phone, Whit, I have to take this job. Rebuilding the studio would be an endless money pit, and it’s pretty clear what the signs are pointing to.”

  “How does he feel about it?” Whitney asks.

  “That’s the worst part,” I whisper, trying to will my voice not to break again. “He asked me to stay. He wanted me to turn down the cruise job and stay in South Florida and…be with him.”

  Chase draws back in surprise. “Rivera did that? Seriously?”

  “Yeah…” I nod slowly. “He was crushed when I told him I have to leave. But I don’t have a choice, you know? My job here has been literally destroyed.”

  “He’s, like, a huge-ass believer in the one.” Chase waves a hand. “He’s not the type of dude to just fuck around. If he asked you to stay like that, he must have been really serious about it.”

  Whitney shoots him a look. “You’re not helping.”

  He holds his hands up defensively. “I’m just saying. I know Dylan pretty damn well. He’s a one-shot kinda guy. That’s why he’s a kicker. One big moment, one chance…that’s how Dylan likes things.”

  Was I his one big chance?

  No, there’s no way. If that was true, if we were destined to be together, I would know. And my precious studio wouldn’t be a heap of tree branches and drywall right now. I believe that. I have to believe that.

  “Well, when I was going through all our bullshit…” Whit gives Chase a loving look. “You were always blunt with me. Asking the tough questions. And it worked. So…” She knits her brows together. “Do you love him?”

  I think for a minute, watching waves splash on the shore through the glass and picking at a thread on my leggings. “It doesn’t matter if I love him. I’m sticking with my plan and my job and m
y fate.” I sniffle and straighten my back, channeling every ounce of strength and independence in my soul. “So, I need your suitcase.”

  Whitney studies me, her brown eyes wide and kind and bright. “Okay. You know what’s best.”

  My heart pulls, and my stomach sinks, but she’s right.

  I stand up and walk with her to the bedroom to get the suitcase, forcing myself to hold my chin up and remember that I’ll get my inner light back soon.

  “Wait a second.” Chase follows after us quickly. “That’s it? You’re just leaving? You’re just gonna give up?”

  “Chase, it’s too complicated. I need my fresh start. They’re expecting me on that boat tomorrow morning, and that’s where I’m meant to be.”

  He shakes his dirty-blond hair. “But you love him.”

  I glance over my shoulder at the reformed playboy and almost laugh at the irony. “It’s gonna be fine. It’s all for the best.” Who am I trying to convince?

  “Let’s get you that suitcase.” Whit takes my hand and brings me into the massive master closet. More quicksand on the ground and fog in the air.

  “All my stuff is in the car. Can I just stay here tonight?” I bite my lip. “I have to get up at, like, four a.m. anyway, and I don’t think I can physically handle setting foot in that condo again.”

  She wraps me in a tight embrace. “Of course.”

  “It’ll be better soon. I’ll forget him soon. I’m making the right decision, hands down. I don’t have any doubts.”

  Whitney just nods kindly. We both know she’s right about one thing.

  I am a terrible liar.

  Twenty-nine

  Dylan

  I clench my jaw and wipe a bead of sweat from my forehead as I rack the bar and sit up, leaning forward on the weight bench.

  “Damn, dude.” Elliot walks by and smacks my back. “You’re really ripping ’em today.”

  I offer a grunt in response. I’ve always channeled anger and emotion and messy shit into athletics. Like, if I can just bench enough weight or crush a thousand ab sets, then I’ll somehow feel better. I’ll just sweat out all the feelings.

  If only it were that fucking easy.

  Of course it’s pissing outside. That’s fine. I have no intentions of leaving the Riders training facility until well past midnight. Maybe even later. The thought of going back to my completely empty condo makes me want to crank out another twenty bench presses.

  I swallow hard and run a hand through my hair, pushing away the flood of thoughts and questions and feelings. I knew I shouldn’t have gotten involved with Melody Hayes. She was nothing but a bright, bendy, pink ball of trouble from day one.

  “Yo, Rivera.” Chase comes in through the doors, dripping from the rain and breathing heavy as he jogs into the weight room. “Bitchboy, listen up.”

  “Not in the mood, Kennedy,” I grumble. “I’m hitting chest and abs solo today. Give me shit some other time.”

  “I’m not here to give you shit, bro. I’m here to do biceps, actually.”

  I lie back down flat on the bench and grip the bar tightly. “Knock yourself out.”

  “Dude, wait.” He grabs the bar and nods for me to sit up and talk to him.

  I can’t even describe how much I don’t want to talk. To anyone. Especially not to the used-to-be-cocky-and-womanizing quarterback who somehow found real love before I did.

  “What, Chase?”

  “Melody’s at our place. She’s staying there ton—”

  “Nope.” I cut him off and stand up, figuring that I can go to another part of the gym and hopefully be left alone. “Don’t want to talk about Melody.”

  I head into the side room and grab a mat to hit abs, shaking my head slowly and listening to the rain pound the metal roof of the gym.

  Chase, the persistent son of a bitch, follows me. “Dylan, you gotta listen to me. You gotta just hear me out.”

  I stop in my tracks and turn to him, furrowing my brow and narrowing my gaze. “No. I don’t have to listen to you or anyone. I don’t want to hear some epic, romantic-ass speech about how I need to push for her or run after her or fight for her.” I swallow the emotion that rises in my throat and grit my teeth. “Because I did fight for her. I asked her to stay. I made it pretty damn obvious what I wanted.”

  Chase draws back.

  “And she…” I stare at the speckled rubber floor. “She’s leaving. The ‘universe’ told her to leave by demolishing her workplace for whatever fucking reason.”

  “So?” Chase tosses up his hands. “You’re just throwing it away because of a fucking oak tree?”

  “I’m not throwing it away, dumbass.” I groan, frustrated as hell. “She is. She needs the cruise job, and the studio is ruined, and insurance won’t cover it, and blah, blah, blah. There’s about a thousand reasons why we can’t be together, and I need to just accept it.” I point a finger at him. “And so do you, apparently.”

  I shake my head and throw the mat onto the floor, trying to ignore the flashback reel that plays in my mind as soon as I put a mat on the ground. That stupid yoga mat. Her ridiculous poses and insane ideas about the universe.

  “It’s the fourth quarter, bro,” Chase asserts.

  I blow out a breath and roll my eyes, wondering why he can’t seem to understand that I want to be left alone. “What are you talking about?”

  “Fourth quarter, and we’re down by two.” He holds his arm up, faking like he’s about to throw a football, bouncing around on the balls of his feet, and glancing at imaginary defenders.

  “What the fuck are you doing?”

  “I can’t get it. Shit.” He throws the pretend football onto the ground. “Incomplete. It’s over. That’s the game.”

  “Is this, like, a bit?” I lean my head back.

  “But wait, there’s hope. We’re in field-goal range. It’s a long one, that’s for damn sure. But this is it, man. Dylan Rivera, on the field.” He’s still bouncing back and forth.

  I stifle a laugh, smiling for probably the first time since I walked out of my spare bedroom earlier. “You’re insane.”

  “Don’t you get it? This is it. This is your balls-to-the-wall fifty-five-yard field goal. Your one shot.”

  I sit up and rest my elbows on my knees, shaking my head. “I don’t know, Kennedy. If she feels the way I do, she’d find a way to stay. She believes in signs, and I gotta say, this one was pretty big.”

  “Fourth quarter, bro. You gotta figure out how to make that field goal.”

  “And you gotta stop with the extended metaphor. Please.”

  He laughs heartily. “There’s our snarky soccer boy. Come on, man.”

  I draw in a deep breath and let the rush of thoughts and emotions stir around in my brain. My heart rate picks up as the fog starts to clear a little bit. “I never thought I’d say this, but I think you’re right.”

  “Hell yeah!” He pumps a fist.

  “She’s getting on the boat because her studio is gone.” I stand up and start pacing, a new charge of adrenaline coursing through me. “So if I can do something about that, it’ll show her how I feel. And if she feels the same…”

  “Exactly!” Chase smacks my back. “Your one shot.”

  I bite my lip and feel an excited smile slip across my face. “My one shot. It’s for sure the last attempt I’ve got, so it has to be bang on.” I shake out my arms and rack my brain. The thought of getting Melody back sends heat and chills down my spine and makes my chest tight and airy.

  “Thanks, man.” I pat Chase’s shoulder and jog past him, formulating a plan as fast as I can in my head.

  “Wait, so…” he calls after me through a laugh. “What are you gonna do?”

  “Make the field goal.” I turn over my shoulder and give him a nod. “Duh.”

  “Oh shit!” The broad shoulders of Andre Smoke move toward me. He looks at me, then over at Chase. “Is he going to get the girl?”

  “Yeah, he is, bro.” They high-five, and I roll my eyes.


  I don’t care what Melody thinks fate is saying. She’s the one, and Chase is right. This is my last shot. My only shot.

  She wants a sign? Oh, I’ll give her a sign. I’ll give her a sign so big and bright and blindingly obvious, she won’t be able to ignore it.

  Thirty

  Melody

  “Come. Freaking. On,” I yell at the thousand-pound suitcase, which is literally bigger than I am, as I pull it up the stairs onto the wooden dock.

  I yank the metal handle as hard as I can, which only makes it spin and topple and practically knock me over. I groan and pull it, tripping as it gets stuck on every bump and knot in the wood.

  It’s still dark out, and gray clouds are covering up any trace of stars or moonlight. I feel burning behind my eyes and an overwhelming heaviness in my gut. This is supposed to be one of those huge, pivotal, life-changing moments.

  But it’s really just me struggling with a giant suitcase and trying not to cry and questioning every decision I’ve ever made.

  “Just get on the boat,” I mumble as I finally make it up the narrow stairs. “It’ll all be fine once you’re on the boat.”

  I wish I believed that.

  I can’t stop seeing his eyes. The way they glistened and got brighter and brighter the longer I knew him. The way he looked at me like I was a living, breathing mystery. Like he’d never seen something so wonderful.

  A lump rises in my throat, and I grip the handle of the suitcase tight, swallowing the emotion.

  Don’t look over your shoulder, Melody. There’s no room for looking back.

  I drag the luggage through the maze of people on the crowded deck, focusing on my breath and nothing more. Breath is the key to peace. Breath is the root of life. Breath can steady any—

  “Melody!”

  What the ever-loving hell?

  Unless I’m hearing things, someone is yelling my name from down on the dock. My heart starts racing, and I glance around frantically.

  So much for breath control.

  “Melody, wait!”