"Eh, forget it," he said. "I'm notthatthirsty." Again, he looked toward the window. "Screw it. I'm outta here."
"So we're closing early?"
"Why not?" he said, pointing to the rain splattering against the glass. "Who'd come out inthismess?"
I couldn't argue with that, which was why twenty minutes later, I was doing exactly what I shouldn't have been, navigating the storm on the borrowed bike.
The rain hit like needles, stinging my cheeks and blurring everything beyond a few feet. Wind shoved at my wheels, gust by gust, turning Main Street into a slippery gauntlet that would've been much safer on foot.
Safer.But longer.At least in terms of time. Plus, there was the matter of Maisie's bike.I couldn't just leave it, could I?
So I pedaled like crazy, as if I could outrun the storm.
I couldn't.
After barely a minute, my jacket was already soaked, sending water creeping down my spine. I hunched lower as the bike gave a dangerous little skid.
I was almost debating turning back when a bright red something came flying from who-knows-where.An umbrella.
The wind flung it straight across my path, and I swerved on instinct. My tires slid, and suddenly the bike was gone from underneath me. The world tilted hard and fast as I faceplanted not onto the asphalt – thank God – but onto a patch of landscaping filled with grass and flowers. I knew this, because I was practically chewing on a tulip – pink, if you're curious.
I groaned.Terrific.Now, on top of everything, I'd ruined a perfectly good flower bed. I lay there for a long moment, afraid to take stock, as rain pelted me from above.
My body hurt like hell, but I wasn't screaming, so the only thing I'd really damaged was my pride.
And then it hit me.Oh, no. Maisie's bike.I jerked upward and looked frantically through the rain. And there it was, maybe fifteen feet away, lying on its side with its front tire still spinning.
My breath caught.Was it damaged?
Oh, God.What if it was?
I flopped onto my back and squeezed my eyes shut – and not only to keep out the rain. The wind howled. The rain splattered. And somewhere in the distance, a crack of thunder ripped through the sky.
But then, cutting through all of it, came a familiar voice, telling me, "Don't move."
It was Ryder.
59
Apparently, I'm not Dead
Tessa
My eyes flew open, and there Ryder was, standing over me like he'd been carved from the storm itself.
Rain slicked his hair to his forehead and streamed down his face. His white button-down shirt was utterly soaked, clinging to his chest and abs in a way that had me convinced I was dreaming.
I blinked long and hard, trying to clear my vision. And by the time I opened my eyes, he was crouched beside me, taking my hand in his. "Talk to me." He gave my hand a tender squeeze. "You okay?"
I groaned. "Actually, I'm pretty sure I'm dead."
His hand tightened around mine. "What?"
"Yeah, because you can'treallybe here."
He leaned over me, blocking the worst of the downpour from hitting my face. With a wry smile, he said, "Andyoucan't be dead."
"Why not?"
