Page 36 of The Best I Never Had

I slip into the window seat, and Addy starts whispering about her plans to win over each of the cousins. I try to follow, but I can’t focus past the buzzing in my head. Owen’s the last to board the bus, and his eyes find me immediately. I break the eye contact first, refocusing on Addy and her plotting and only glancing at the back of his head a half-dozen times as the bus twists down the winding roads from the inn to downtown Elk Ridge.

I can’t stop thinking about Vaughn’s comments earlier. He has every right to worry, because I’m absolute shit at putting distance between me and Owen.

Chapter 12

OWEN

Frustration is still buzzing under my skin when I get to the bar. I can’t even pinpoint where the anger is coming from. Whether it’s at Thea for, once again, pointing out issues with my family that I’ve been ignoring, or at the fact that my family has so solidified my role as the reliable cousin that they believe I want to be in charge. Probably a combination of both.

And, if I’m being honest with myself, Gabriel slobbering all over Thea—and knowing I have no right to be bothered by it—hasn’t helped my mood either. She’s never given the slightest hint that she welcomes his attention, but I can’t help but wonder.

I lost a good twenty minutes. After dropping off everyone in front of the bar, I had to go a mile away to find parking for our ridiculous bus. The air is cool again now that the sun has set, just enough of a chill to nip at my ears and nose, and the cold should extinguish the last of the embers inside me. But instead, I spend the walk turning the interaction with Thea over in my head and working myself up even more.

I was a jerk to her, and I hate myself for it.

It takes all of ten seconds after walking through the doors to realize my family has taken over. Every single one of my almost two dozen cousins have shown up, plus their spouses and partners and friends. We might as well have rented out the entire venue for the way the non-Ellis patrons get pushed to the corner.

The air in here is hot and thick; too many people are crammed into the small space. My shoes stick to the floor with each step. Gabriel’s band has already started their set, mostly playing covers of top-forty songs with a country bend, and they’re better than I expected. My eyes are immediately drawn to Thea, sitting with Harrison and Addy at the table closest to the stage. She clutches Addy’s hands as they sing together about a sky full of stars. Harrison watches Addy with stars of his own in his eyes.

Addy’s different with Thea. I noticed it at Sliding Rock—the genuine smile so different from the china doll one she uses at work—and I wonder if this is the version of Addy that Harrison fell in love with.

There’s a fourth chair at the table. It would be so easy to claim the spot next to Thea. The thought has barely crossed my mind when another guy—one of maybe five people in here not connected to the Ellises—drops into the seat, sliding his thick, tattooed arm over the back of her chair and smiling down at her. It isn’t surprising that people are drawn to her, but it is a solid reminder. There’s no spot for me at the table, figuratively and literally.

I push my way to the bar, squeezing next to Tommy and Johnny, then ask the bartender for a whiskey ginger. Thea’s drink of choice. I may not have a place next to her, but I can still get her an apology drink.

“That’s not like you,” Tommy says, clapping me on the shoulder and tsking. “Drinking when you’re driving the family.”

“Is Dad being bad?” Johnny says with a laugh.

“You’re fifteen years older than me,” I mumble, passing over my card to the bartender.

“You’re right, and you should listen to your elders when we say don’t drink and drive.”

“Be nice to our boy,” Misha, Johnny’s wife of twenty years, says as she slaps his shoulder.

She pops a kiss on my cheek and grabs the drinks for her and Tommy’s boyfriend before sauntering back to where the two of them were gossiping in the corner. It’s always like this when I’m here, a constant flow of family around me, always someone new jumping in with a joke or a tease or that little bit of love you didn’t know you needed until they give it. Misha’s quick show of affection is the reminder I needed of how special my time is here, how limited. I don’t want to waste it brooding over Thea.

I laugh. “It’s not for me, guys. You can go back to your shots without worrying how you’ll get home.”

“Thank god,” Johnny says. “It was like I didn’t even know you anymore.”

I ignore the way his words bring back what Thea said, that my family thinks I’m happy to be the responsible one, that I’m doing this for me and not as a favor to them. The cold condensation of the glass grounds me in the moment, bringing my attention back to Thea. The stranger leans over and says something to her, and I watch every micro expression to see if she’s interested. She laughs at whatever he said, and my jaw clenches so hard it aches.

My cousins follow my gaze, and one of them—because I’m too focused on her to even register which one is talking—says, “Good plan. Always bring gifts when you’re trying to get back in a woman’s good graces.”

“But it looks like someone else is trying to get into her good graces, if you know what I mean,” the other says.

I turn back to the bar, setting the glass down with so much force a bit of amber liquid splashes over the edge. This possessiveness is new to me. I don’t want that man to look at her, to take her smiles and laughter. It’s unfair and ridiculous when I don’t have a future with her. What sort of asshole would rather see someone alone than with someone else?

Tommy throws his arms around my shoulders. “We got you, baby cousin.”

“I thought I was Dad,” I say.

“Family’s complicated.”

I elbow him, and he moves his arm around my neck, pulling my head forward and giving me a noogie like we’re kids again. I try to push him off, but he spends his days moving around wine barrels and machinery, and there’s no way I can overpower him. When he lets me go, I realize his twin is gone, and a stone settles in my stomach. They only split up when one of them is about to do something the other is trying to hide.

“Tommy, where is he?” I ask with narrowed eyes.