From Best Friend To Fiancé (Savannah and Roman) novel Chapter 214

**Dreams Folding Into Broken Time**
**Chapter 129: Butter Me Up**

As I gazed out the window, the soft, misty atmosphere of New Hope seemed a world away. Philadelphia, in stark contrast, appeared to be weeping crimson tears.

The rain fell in torrents, each drop crashing down with such ferocity that it was as if the sky itself was unleashing its fury upon us. The windshield wipers struggled valiantly, their screeching motion barely keeping pace with the deluge. With every flash of lightning that illuminated the streets, the world outside transformed into a fleeting silver landscape, only to be swallowed again by the oppressive darkness.

I found myself gripping my seatbelt tightly, my knuckles white, while Dean wrestled with the steering wheel, navigating the tumultuous road ahead. “Are you sure we shouldn’t just pull over and wait this out?” I asked, my voice wavering slightly despite my best efforts to sound calm. The rapid thump of my heart echoed in my ears, reminding me of the countless tales I’d heard about cars skidding off roads in weather like this.

Dean’s response was light, almost dismissive. “But we’re so close now.” He pointed toward the windshield, where the rain raced in rivulets. “Look, it’s not that bad.”

“Dean,” I replied, my tone dry and pointed, “if you have dreams of returning to New Hope in a body bag, that’s your choice. I’d prefer to arrive in one piece.”

He let out a nervous laugh, the sound short and strained. “Your way of putting things always gets to me.”

“Right now, the only thing that’s going to get to us is an accident if you don’t pull over,” I said, my gaze fixed on the fogged window. Outside, the world had become a chaotic blur of headlights and rain. “Just find a safe spot. I’m really not comfortable with this.”

With a resigned sigh, Dean’s shoulders slumped as if I had deflated him. “Fine, whatever you say, Sav.”

A few moments later, we veered off the main road and parked beneath the dim glow of a closed diner. The sign flickered erratically, its neon letters spelling out “Breakfast” in a ghostly dance of illumination and darkness.

Inside the car, an uneasy silence enveloped us. The relentless sound of rain pounding against the roof and windows filled the air, creating a rhythm that should have been soothing but instead felt heavy and awkward.

Dean began tapping his fingers on the steering wheel, attempting to hum a Beatles tune, “Eleanor Rigby,” which felt entirely out of place given the somber atmosphere. His rhythm was uneven, betraying his anxiety. I didn’t bother to look at him; instead, I pretended to scroll through my phone, my eyes unfocused on the endless screenshots of clothes, shoes, and furniture that I would likely never buy. It was pathetic, really. The dreams I held on that phone felt like a cruel joke; I would need at least half a million dollars to make even a fraction of them a reality. Perhaps I could convince Roman to buy them for me. The thought was amusing, even if it shouldn’t have been.

Dean’s humming faltered and then ceased altogether. “Sav?”

I didn’t look up right away. “What?”

He was rubbing the back of his neck, a habit of his that I had always found oddly attractive, but in this moment, I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of acknowledging it.

“I, um… overheard your conversation with Mr. Hart,” he stammered, his voice hesitant. “He said…”

The air left my lungs as I felt my heart race, a wave of anxiety washing over me. My fingers froze on the screen of my phone.

What had he heard?

“What did you hear?” I asked, my voice low and sharp, cutting through the tension like a knife.

He blinked, startled by my tone, jerking back slightly, his hands raised defensively as if I had aimed a weapon at him. “I come in peace, Savannah.”

“Tell me,” I snapped, the urgency in my voice undeniable.

He swallowed hard. “Is Julius really… not your real father?”

“I used to think dating Chloe was the best thing that could ever happen to me,” he confessed. “Especially back then. She had this… aura about her, you know? Everyone was drawn to her. The girls wanted to be her. All the guys talked about her, followed her on social media. I thought if I could just be the one to date her, it would mean something significant.”

“Be someone?” I interjected, my voice laced with skepticism.

He hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah, something like that. But she never really noticed me. Not truly. Then one day, she posted a picture with you, and I recognized you from college. That’s when I thought… maybe if I dated you, she’d finally pay attention.”

I couldn’t help but smile, though it was devoid of warmth. “Wow. It’s nice to hear it straight from your mouth.”

He grimaced, his expression pained. “Sav, I’m sorry!”

“Are you saying that because you genuinely feel remorse,” I asked, narrowing my eyes, “or because you’re scared of potentially facing jail time?”

He scratched his head, avoiding my gaze. “Does it really matter which one? I’m just trying to do the right thing here.”

I let out a quiet, humorless laugh. “No, you’re not. You’re doing this because you’re afraid. Because you think if you butter me up enough, maybe I’ll say something good for you in court. Am I right, Dean?”

He didn’t respond right away, sitting there with his jaw clenched, his eyes flickering between me and the relentless rain.

Outside, the storm roared louder, the wind battering against the car, the rain hammering against the glass. Inside, everything felt suspended, heavy with unspoken words.

Even though I had long since stopped caring—not about him, not about what we had been—I could sense it. The quiet, pathetic hope that lingered in his silence. It was the kind of hope that made me want to laugh and scream all at once.