I woke the next morning to rain striking my bedroom window so hard that, for several confused seconds, I thought someone was throwing handfuls of pebbles against the glass.

A storm had swallowed the entire town overnight.

Thick fog pressed against the windows, blurring the houses across the street until they looked more like shadows than real places. Rain poured from a sky so dark and gray that morning barely seemed to have arrived, rushing down the glass in heavy streams and gathering along the edges of the roof before spilling over in sheets. Wind moved through the trees with enough force to bend their bare branches toward the ground, tearing the last stubborn leaves free and sending them tumbling wildly through the air.

Thunder rolled somewhere far away, low and heavy enough to make the walls tremble.

I smiled before I had even fully opened my eyes.

It was perfect.

Stormy mornings had always been my favorite kind. There was something comforting about waking while the whole world seemed hidden beneath rain and fog, as though the weather had wrapped every house in its own little pocket of quiet. I loved the dark rooms and the sound of water against the roof. I loved the excuse to wear oversized sweaters, turn on lamps in the middle of the day, and drink something warm while the sky threw a dramatic fit outside.

Most people looked at weather like this and saw ruined plans.

I saw permission to disappear for a while.

I stayed in bed longer than I should have, listening to the storm and watching rainwater race in crooked paths down the window. My room was cold beyond the blankets, but I did not mind. The gray light softened everything around me, turning the photographs on my wall into little shadowed memories and making the red leaf Riley had given me look darker where I had placed it carefully on my nightstand.

My eyes moved toward it.

Then, against my better judgment, my fingers touched my cheek.

The kiss had happened hours ago.

Long enough that I should have stopped thinking about it.

Long enough that the warmth of Riley's lips against my skin should not have felt so immediate when I closed my eyes.

It had only been a kiss on the cheek.

Nothing more.

I had repeated that to myself so many times after returning home that the words should have sounded convincing by now. Riley had hugged me because he had enjoyed the day. He had kissed my cheek because he was affectionate, because he did not know what else to say, or because some new version of our friendship was forming between us and neither of us knew how to name it yet.

It did not have to mean anything.

Unfortunately, my heart had never been particularly interested in reasonable explanations.

I pushed the blankets away before my thoughts could become even more dangerous and changed into the softest clothes I could find: thick socks, black leggings, and an oversized rust-colored sweater that fell past my hands. My nose still carried faint yellow-and-purple bruising from the orchard, though the swelling had mostly disappeared, and the dull headache that had followed me for the past two days was finally gone.

By the time I left my room, the storm had grown louder.

Rain hammered against the roof as I walked downstairs, and a strong gust of wind rattled the front windows hard enough to make me pause on the final step. The living room was dim despite the lamps Mom had switched on, and the entire house smelled like coffee, toast, and the cinnamon candle burning near the fireplace.

Mom stood in the kitchen pouring coffee into a mug while Dad sat at the table with his phone in one hand and a piece of toast in the other. Harper and Brooklyn were curled beneath separate blankets in the living room, though they had somehow chosen opposite ends of the same couch and were still managing to argue over which movie they should watch.

Hudson was missing.

That caught my attention almost immediately. "Where's Hudson?"

Mom looked up from her coffee. "Good morning to you too."

"Good morning. Where's Hudson?"

"At the Briarwyns."

"I know he slept there. I mean, when is he coming home?"

Dad glanced toward the window as rainwater struck the glass in another violent burst. "Not today, apparently."

I frowned. "What do you mean, not today?"

"Willow called," Mom explained. "They decided it would be better if Hudson stayed there until the weather calms down. None of us want to drive in this."

I stared at her. "They live five minutes away."

"Five dangerous minutes," Dad said.

"The streets are probably flooding," Mom added.

I looked through the kitchen window. Water was streaming down the driveway and pooling beside the curb, but the road was still visible.

"Probably?"

"The weather alert said to avoid unnecessary driving."

"Picking up your child seems necessary."

Dad took another bite of toast. "He's safe."

"He's also probably destroying someone else's house."

"He does that here for free."

"Dad."

Mom smiled into her mug. "Willow said the boys are already building a blanket fort in the living room. She and Kai are fine with him staying for the day."

"And the adults agreed everyone needed rest," Dad added. "No hiking, no festivals, no orchards, no competitions, and preferably no head injuries."

I narrowed my eyes. "That last one felt directed at me."

"It was."

"I did not choose the rock."

"The rock did not choose you either."

"You weren't there."

Dad looked toward Mom. "She's still blaming the rock."

"It was hiding beneath leaves."

"Very suspicious behavior," Mom agreed.

I accepted the mug of hot chocolate she held out to me and wrapped both hands around it. The warmth immediately seeped through my sleeves, and I leaned against the counter while thunder rolled overhead again.

A quiet day sounded good.

It should have sounded good.

After everything we had done over the past week, there was no logical reason for me to want to leave the house. The storm was beautiful from inside, where I was warm and dry, and my entire family was already preparing to spend the day watching movies and pretending the outside world did not exist.

Then I imagined Riley at the Briarwyn house.

I imagined seeing him after last night. I imagined whether he would act like the hug and kiss had happened or whether he would pretend they had not.

My heart immediately became restless.

"I can go get Hudson."

Both of my parents looked at me.

Mom's eyebrows lifted. "You just asked why we weren't driving."

"I know."

"You said it seemed necessary."

"It is."

Dad glanced toward the window again. "The storm is getting worse."

"They live five minutes away."

"That was our argument," Mom reminded me.

"Yes, but I'm younger and more courageous."

Dad stared at me. "You drove into a curb last winter because a squirrel startled you."

"It ran directly toward the car."

"It was on the sidewalk."

"I didn't know its intentions."

Mom tried to hide a smile.

"I can drive slowly," I continued. "Hudson has been there all night, and they probably want their house back."

Mom exchanged a glance with Dad. It lasted only a second, but it carried an entire silent conversation.

I knew that look.

It was the same one they used whenever deciding whether I was responsible enough to do something or simply determined enough that refusing would create more trouble than allowing it.

Dad looked at me. "You're feeling okay?"

"Yes."

"No headache?"

"No."

"No dizziness?"

"No."

"Do you remember your name?"

I stared at him.

Mom started laughing.

"I am never telling any of you anything ever again."

Dad smiled. "Drive slowly."

"Seriously?"

"You're an adult."

"Sometimes," Harper called from the living room.

I turned toward her. "No one asked you."

"You drove into a curb because of a squirrel."

"Why does everyone remember that?"

"Because the squirrel didn't even look at you."

"It was suspiciously calm."

Brooklyn lifted her head from beneath her blanket. "Tell Riley I said hi."

My body reacted before I could stop it.

It was small. Barely anything. But Brooklyn noticed. Her smile widened.

"I'm going to get Hudson." I said.

"Of course you are."

I pointed one warning finger at her before setting my mug in the sink and reaching for my coat.

Mom followed me toward the door. "Call when you arrive."

"I will."

"And when you're leaving."

"I will."

"Drive slowly."

"You already said that."

"I'm saying it again."

"I know how to drive."

Dad called from the kitchen, "Remember the squirrel!"

I pulled open the front door. Wind immediately threw rain into my face.

I slammed it shut again.

Everyone laughed.

I stood there for a moment with water dripping from the end of my nose. "This weather is aggressive."

Mom covered her mouth.

Dad called, "Still feeling courageous?"

I wiped my face with my sleeve and pulled my hood up. "The storm caught me off guard."

"You were watching it for twenty minutes," Harper said.

"This family is terrible."

"Love you too," Brooklyn answered.

I opened the door again and ran for the car.

The few seconds it took to cross the driveway were enough to soak the shoulders of my coat. Wind tugged at my hood and sent rain sideways beneath it, stinging my cheeks while my shoes splashed through water that had already gathered around the tires. I climbed inside, slammed the door, and sat there breathing hard as rain battered the roof.

Maybe my parents had made a valid point.

The windshield wipers struggled to keep up even at their fastest setting, and the fog transformed familiar streets into pale gray tunnels. I drove slowly enough that the trip took closer to ten minutes than five, gripping the wheel with both hands every time the wind pushed against the side of the car. Water rushed along the curbs in shallow streams, and branches littered the road where they had been torn from trees.

Still, beneath the nervousness, I loved it.

I loved the dark sky and the headlights glowing softly through the fog. I loved the way every house looked distant and secretive behind the rain. I loved the thunder and the dramatic sweep of the windshield wipers and the feeling that the entire town had vanished except for the narrow road directly in front of me.

By the time I pulled into the Briarwyn driveway, the storm had worsened again.

Rain struck the windshield so violently that the house disappeared behind it, reappearing only in brief, blurry flashes whenever the wipers crossed the glass. The wind had become strong enough to shake the car, and water poured from the porch roof in thick sheets that splashed across the steps.

I turned off the engine. Then I looked toward the house. It was only a few steps away. Maybe fifteen feet from the driver's door to the porch.

I could do that.

I reached for the handle. A gust of wind slammed rain against the side of the car.

I released it. "No."

I sat back.

The front door looked very far away now.

I could call Willow.

That would be pathetic.

I could drive back home.

That would be worse.

I could wait until the storm suddenly stopped, though judging by the dark sky, that might take several hours.

I sat in the driver's seat for almost three full minutes debating whether retrieving my little brother was worth drowning in the Briarwyn driveway. Rainwater blurred every view of the house, and I imagined arriving at the door with my hair plastered to my face, mascara beneath my eyes, and water filling my shoes.

Then the front door opened.

A figure appeared through the rain.

For one ridiculous second, I thought it was Riley.

My heart jumped.

Then the person stepped onto the porch, opened a large red umbrella, and started running toward the car.

Lydia.

She struggled against the wind, holding the umbrella with both hands while it twisted violently above her. The bright red fabric turned almost inside out before she yanked it downward and continued through the rain, laughing as water soaked the legs of her jeans.

She reached the car and slapped one hand against my window. "Get out!"

I lowered it barely an inch. Rain immediately sprayed through the opening. "What?"

"Get out of the car!"

"The umbrella isn't working!"

"It's working enough!"

"It almost flew away!"

"So did I!"

I stared at the distance between the car and the house.

Lydia leaned closer. "You have been sitting here for five minutes."

"You were watching me?"

"The entire family was watching you."

I looked toward the living room windows. Several faces immediately disappeared.

My mouth fell open. "Were they waiting to see what I would do?"

"Yes."

"That is humiliating."

"Riley said you were probably too scared to get out."

I narrowed my eyes. "He said what?"

Lydia smiled. "I knew that would work."

I opened the door.

Wind immediately ripped it from my hand and sent a sheet of rain across the seat. I climbed out, slammed it shut, and ducked beneath the umbrella beside Lydia.

There was nowhere near enough room for both of us.

Half my body remained exposed while Lydia attempted to angle the umbrella against the wind, and every gust sent cold water splashing beneath it anyway.

"This is useless!" I shouted.

"It's red!"

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"It makes it cheerful!"

The umbrella bent backward again.

We both screamed.

Lydia grabbed my arm, and we ran.

Our shoes splashed through water deep enough to soak our socks immediately. The wind shoved us sideways, and Lydia kept trying to pull the umbrella over my head while leaving her own completely exposed. I grabbed the handle with her, but that only caused us to collide shoulders as we stumbled across the driveway.

"Stop pushing me!" she shouted through her laughter.

"I'm trying not to drown!"

"You chose to come here!" She reminded me.

"I regret everything!"

The umbrella twisted violently.

Lydia yelped and let go.

For one terrifying second, I held it alone while the wind tried to carry both the umbrella and me into the neighbor's yard.

"Help!"

Lydia grabbed it again.

We were laughing too hard to run properly by then, slipping through puddles and attempting to shield ourselves with an umbrella that had become more dangerous than useful. My hood flew backward, and rain soaked my hair within seconds. Lydia's silver earrings swung wildly as she ducked her head, and water streamed down both our faces.

The porch was still several steps away when another gust turned the umbrella completely inside out.

We stopped.

Lydia stared up at it. I stared too. The red fabric had folded upward like a giant flower.

"This is your family's good umbrella?" I asked.

"It was."

Thunder cracked overhead.

We screamed again and abandoned the umbrella entirely.

Lydia grabbed my hand, and we sprinted the final few steps toward the porch, laughing so hard that I could barely breathe. We reached the shelter of the roof and nearly collapsed against the front door, both of us dripping onto the wooden boards while the ruined red umbrella dragged behind us.

For a few seconds, neither of us could speak.

Lydia bent forward with both hands on her knees. "You sat in the car for five minutes just to end up soaked anyway."

I pushed wet hair out of my face. "You could have brought a better umbrella."

"We had a black one."

"Why didn't you bring that?"

"The red one was prettier."

I stared at her.

She smiled. "You understand."

Unfortunately, I did.

The front door opened behind us.

Warm air spilled onto the porch, carrying the smell of coffee, syrup, and something baking.

Kai stood in the doorway with one hand resting against the frame. He looked at Lydia, then at me, then at the umbrella hanging upside down from her hand. "Successful rescue?"

Lydia straightened. "Completely."

Kai looked toward me.

I was soaked from head to toe. Water dripped from my hair, my coat, and the hem of my sweater. My socks squished inside my shoes every time I moved.

"Clearly."

I stepped inside and immediately saw everyone gathered in the living room.

Willow sat on the couch with a mug in both hands. Milo and Hudson were inside an enormous blanket fort that stretched between two chairs and most of the coffee table. Riley stood near the window with his arms folded, watching me with a smile he was obviously trying to hide.

I pointed at him. "You said I was scared."

His smile widened. "You were sitting there for five minutes."

"I was evaluating the situation."

"You were afraid of the rain."

"I love rain."

"From inside."

"I drove here in it."

"And then refused to leave the car."

"The wind was dangerous."

Lydia held up the broken umbrella. "She's right about that."

Riley looked at it. Then back at me.

A laugh escaped him.

I tried to glare, but water ran down my forehead and into one eye, forcing me to blink rapidly and wipe my face with my sleeve.

That only made him laugh harder.

"You look terrible," he said.

My heart reacted stupidly to the sound of his voice before I remembered I was angry.

"You kissed me last last night."

The entire room went silent.

Riley and I both froze.

Lydia's mouth fell open beside me. Willow slowly lowered her mug. Kai looked toward his son. Milo's head appeared through an opening in the blanket fort. Hudson immediately crawled out after him.

I had not meant to say that. I had only meant to remind Riley that he had no right to insult me after doing something that had kept me awake half the night.

Instead, I had announced it to his entire family.

Heat rushed into my face despite the freezing water dripping from my coat.

Riley stared at me. His cheeks slowly turned red.

Lydia made a strangled sound. "You did what?"

"My cheek! You kissed my cheek." I corrected myself, even though that wasn't any better.

I closed my eyes.

Maybe the storm would carry me away after all.