By the time we get to the tent, Ella is still going on about the delicious food and how impressed she is with the man’s kindness, impeccable manners, and good taste. I let her talk, keeping quiet so I don’t ruin her mood—until—

  “So, what did you think of Sam?”

  “He helped us, he’s kind to you guys, and I appreciate that. Without him, we’d probably still be stuck, freezing, and with no reception to call for help.

  We definitely wouldn’t be drinking wine and eating caviar. By the way, after tonight, your daughter’s new tastes might drive you into bankruptcy.

  When you mentioned camping, I don’t know — I pictured something rough, survival skills and all. How did we end up living like aristocrats?”

  I shake my head, scoffing. “Not to mention, the guy hates me. Did you see the way he looked at me?”

  “He doesn’t hate you; he’s just not your biggest fan.”

  “I didn’t do anything to him.”

  “No, you just almost punched him in the face.”

  “I just had to put an end to it — he was pushing it too far. I didn’t start it.”

  Zoe, already halfway inside the tent, snickers as she pulls off her boots. “I thought he was fun.”

  “Maybe he just needs to see that you’re not whatever he thinks you are.”

  “Another guy slapping a label on me—great. Or…”

  “Maybe he’s… jealous?” Ella muses.

  I snort. “Jealous? He’s not ugly, and he definitely doesn’t look broke. What would he be jealous of?”

  Ella shrugs. “He’s antisocial. Maybe connecting with people doesn’t come easy, and you do it without trying.”

  “He had no trouble being charming with you guys. That’s not an issue for him. He avoids people on purpose.”

  “That doesn’t always mean he wants to be alone.”

  “I don’t know, that didn’t seem like his problem with me. He hated me before I even said a word. Back at the gas station, he already hated me just for existing.”

  Ella shrugs, letting the mystery be. “Not everyone likes us.” She moves on, helping Zoe get ready for bed.

  “I liked him. He’s nice,” I hear Zoe say as I turn to grab my pajamas.

  “He’s not ugly. He’s not ugly,” Wally mutters, mimicking my words as he unzips Zoe’s sleeping bag.

  “He’s handsome, right?” His wife tilts her head, intrigued.

  “He’s amazing.” Zoe stretches out inside the sleeping bag, grinning. Then she lets out a little squeal. “Oh, I want to marry a man like him! He saved me, took great care of me, gave me delicious food, and he’s gorgeous. My biker prince rescuer.”

  “He’s weird. And way too quiet.” I flop onto my side, pulling the blanket over me.

  “Mysterious,” Zoe corrects me.

  “Oh, great. Now I’m getting jealous — he’s become my daughter’s hero,” Wally jokes, hands on his hips. But I can hear the truth underneath.

  The way he exhales, how his stance shifts just slightly—I know that look. Sometimes, he wonders if he’s enough after the injury. If losing his career took away his role as the hero his wife and daughter deserve.

  “Dad, I love you too. But you’re my dad — I can’t marry you.”

  Ella nudges him with her elbow, playful. “Even his indifferent attitude is sexy, because of the whole rebellious thing. But the glasses kind of ruin it — they make him look like a cute intellectual,” She waits for Wally to agree.

  He nods with the kind of confidence only a few husbands can pull off — the kind that says, No matter how much my wife gushes about another man, she’s never going to cheat on me.

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  Zoe giggles, shifting backward until her shoulder presses against the tent. “Oh… what’s this?” As soon as she leans in, something pushes back from the outside.

  She frowns, then pokes it. The shape shifts like a water balloon, then settles again.

  Ella grabs her arm and pulls her away. “I think we should check that out,” Ella says, wide-eyed, throwing Wally a warning glance.

  “Wait in the car with Zoe.” Wally gets up.

  “Mom, I really need to pee,” Zoe complains just as Ella starts putting on her shoes.

  Ella glances toward the trailer, its interior still glowing with light.

  “He’ll let her use the bathroom,” Wally says before Ella even suggests it.

  My cousin nods and hurries Zoe toward the truck.

  Our boots sink deeper into the mud with every step as we round the tarp. By the time we reach the other side, water pools around our ankles.

  Flashlights sweep over the campground. Where cars and tents stood before dinner, a river now rushes through.

  Some campers have retreated to the farthest edge of the site. Others… their tents are just gone.

  “We need to move the tent,” Wally mutters, watching the two girls on the platform hesitate before knocking directly.

  “He parked on higher ground,” I note. Wally nods. Sam could have warned us this might happen. Bastard.

  “Come in,” the man inside the truck calls.

  I turn back toward our tent. “We need to get everything out and move it closer to the truck. And the car.”

  “I’ll help you,” Ella says, just as we spot Zoe watching from the platform.

  “I wanna help too!” Zoe calls.

  “Stay there, angel. We’re almost done,” Wally reassures her, adjusting the last of the boxes. We just need to move the tent.”

  Then he freezes. His head snaps toward the tent.

  “Zoe, no!”

  Rain and darkness blur my vision, but I see her—a small figure gripping the rope with both hands, feet dug into the mud, body leaning back as she fights against the force dragging the tent away.

  “Dad! It’s floating away!”

  She’s the only thing keeping the tent from being swallowed by the river.

  We sprint toward her. She wraps the rope around her arm, knuckles white.

  “Zoe, let go!” Ella shouts.

  “Agh—” Zoe cries out as the rope yanks her forward, digging into her skin.

  Wally lunges, grabbing the rope with one hand and scooping Zoe into his arms. He pulls—

  The rope snaps.

  He quickly unwinds it from her arm, but angry red welts have already formed where it cut into her skin.

  Zoe stares at her arm, then buries her face in Wally’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, Daddy—I was trying to help,” she whimpers, her small frame trembling.

  “Don’t ever do that again,” Wally says, his voice tight. “You should’ve let go. You could’ve been dragged in. Why didn’t you stay on the platform like I told you?”

  “I just… I wanted to help…” Her voice cracks between sobs. “I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to mess everything up… I just wanted to move the tent…

  I lift my gaze. Wally is staring at the river, watching our tent vanish downstream, the snapped rope still clenched in his fist.

  He exhales sharply, then looks at Ella, his frustration palpable. He opens him mouth, but no words come.

  “Zoe’s fine. That’s what matters,” Ella finally says, her voice steadier now. “Let’s move the car away from the river before it’s too late.”

  We promptly move with that goal in mind.

  “What a streak of bad luck. I think everything that could go wrong already has,” her voice is calm, but firm as she wraps a makeshift bandage around Zoe’s arm. “Tomorrow will be better.”

  “This is some seriously bad luck. I think everything that could go wrong already has. Tomorrow has to be better.”

  “Probably. I can’t imagine what else could possibly go wrong to make it worse.” I sigh. “We’ll just sleep in the car. We can recline the seats—Ella and Zoe in the back, Wally and I in the front.”

  “He already offered…” Wally starts to suggest.

  I cut him off. “That would be too much.”

  “He might insist. But I’m not even sure there’s room,” Ella says, carefully tying off the bandage before pressing a kiss to Zoe’s forehead.

  With one hand on her hip and the other pointing at where our tent used to be, Ella states, “He’s going to see we don’t have a tent anymore. When he notices and realizes we chose to sleep in the car, it'll be way more awkward and rude. Like, after he was incredibly generous to us, we decided we’d rather be uncomfortable than stay with him.”

  She’s got a point. In my case, it’s true. “No. We’re not doing that.” Ella narrows her eyes at me.

  “You gonna talk to him?” Wally waits for an answer before starting the car, eyes on the higher ground.

  Ella marches off.

  Shit. My opinion doesn’t count for anything. Why? Why am I being dragged into spending even more time with him again? I thought I was free.

  Please let him be rude. Please let him see this as a violation of his hospitality.

  But I already know what’s going to happen.

  Because, just to make things more dramatic, Ella is carrying a child in her arms, under the rain, homeless for the night.

  What am I supposed to do? Sabotage the request? Refuse and sleep in the car alone? Sleep with one eye open because I’m under the same roof as a knife enthusiast?

  I just wanted to owe nothing more to the man who despises me and openly hates my guts.

  What a humiliation.

  ?? Discomfort? Check.

  ?? Unavoidable tension? Double check.

  ?? An absolutely fantastic situation for JJ? …Yeah, not so much.

  definitely more drama.

  you handle this? Keep your distance no matter what, or give in and make the best of it? Drop your thoughts below! And if you’re enjoying the story, don’t forget to rate, follow, and leave a comment—your support makes all the difference!