Savior Complex: A Small Town Love Triangle Romance

Nina

I keep my gaze plastered out the window as Brayden drives. To look forward is to see Jordy driving my car and getting her perfect ass germs all over my worn-out seat. To look to my left is to see Brayden, who somehow believes my asshole cousin is someone he could spend the rest of his life with.

So I look out the window, glowering as he sings in perfect pitch to the country music blaring over the radio. Of course he sings well. Of course he is everything perfect—except for the person he fell in love with.

And of course, I am still fighting my attraction to him, despite the fact that he’s given me no choice on how I’ll get home.

If I’m being fair, I know I’m in no condition to drive. I never should have had anything to drink, especially with a long drive ahead of me. If he hadn’t stepped in, I probably would have driven around the corner and bunked in my car for the night, just to ensure my parents didn’t see. So this is the superior alternative.

Even if I can’t get over how good he smells, how his voice is vibrating through me like a just plucked guitar string, and how I have this irresistible urge to scoot under the arm he has draped over the bench seat, just to experience the rise and fall of his chest underneath my head.

Even if that goddamn list is still in my purse, taunting me—because the perfect man is sitting next to me, and he is absolutely hands off.

“So, I guess horseback riding is out of the question,” he finally says, breaking the silence. I glare out the window, shaking my head. He laughs slightly, and this sends a bolt of fury through me.

“You think this is funny? Do you make a habit of cheating on your fiancé or something?”

“You and I never cheated,” he corrects me. “I think this is ironic, is all. And no, I’ve never cheated on Jordy in my life. This was the first time I was ever tempted to. It figures you two are related, or maybe it makes sense. Maybe you’re my type because I’m with your cousin.”

“We are nothing alike,” I spit out. But I’m also reeling a bit from his choice of words. His type. Am I still his type? Not that it matters. He’s with her, and no matter how much I hate Jordy, I can’t cross those family lines.

I hate her even more for this.

“Why her?” I finally do ask. “You could have anyone, and you chose someone who is so self-absorbed and the biggest asshole. I mean, you’ve met my Aunt Lil, right? You’re about to end up with a junior version of her.”

He takes a deep breath, and I swear, I hear a hint of regret in his exhale. Or maybe I’m just projecting.

“She’s not a bad person, Nina.”

“Bullshit. She’s a two-faced bitch who will stab you in the back at the first sign of weakness. I should know, I trusted her, and look where it got me.” I slouch in my seat, daring a glance at the car we’re following. It’s getting too dark to see her, but just knowing she’s there has every muscle in my body clenched with rage.

“Where did it get you?” he asks.

“Come on, I’m the big, bad black sheep of this family and not to be trusted. I mean, look at me. I stole my family’s inheritance, and then I almost stole my cousin’s fiancé. Obviously, everything they say about me is correct.”

“Is it though?”

I can feel his eyes on me, and I turn away when the sting of tears hits my eyes. No one who knows this story has ever asked me for my side of it. Not my parents, not my aunt and uncle, and definitely not Jordy. Now that Brayden is there, asking the one question I wished any of them had asked me, I don’t know how to answer.

Because of course, it’s not true. But what if something I did made it happen? What if I really am to blame for being the sole heir to my grandmother’s fortune?

“It doesn’t matter,” I mutter. “It’s what they believe.”

“It matters to me,” he says, placing a hand on my thigh. I look down at his hand, and he must realize what he’s doing because he moves it immediately. “Sorry.”

I don’t want him to be sorry. I want him to put it back—and that makes me the worst kind of person.

“Here’s the thing, I don’t think you’re responsible for your grandmother’s choice. I think you’ve been made a scapegoat because they’re mad, and I think it’s placed a heavy burden on you, heavier than any person should have to bear.”

I scoff at this, even as his words hit home. “Yeah, poor me with my millions in my giant mansion. My family hates me, I might as well go buy an island because I can afford it now.”

“And yet, you work in a coffee shop,” he points out.

I bite my lip, unfamiliar with what’s happening here.

“It helps me feel less lonely,” I admit softly.

“Yet, most people who gain this kind of money would suddenly have tons of new friends, go on a bunch of vacations, and buy everything they set their sights on. Tell me, Nina, how many vacations have you been on since your grandmother died?”