They Turned My Dog Against Me. I Left Them in the Desert.

His voice carries. Sophie jogs over, playing peacemaker. "Guys, don't fight. It's just dog poop. I'll do it." She says it, then waits. On purpose. When I don't budge, she finally goes to pick it up. Ryan shoots me a look—like I'm the problem here—and hurries after her. Sophie's never done this before. She wraps her hand in layer after layer of plastic bags like she's defusing a bomb. "Ugh, it reeks." She ties the bag off in a giant knot, and Ryan hands her a whole bottle of water to rinse her hand. Something inside me clenches. I've been cleaning up after Bowie for days. Ryan's never once asked if my hands were dirty. One bottle empties. Ryan cracks open a second. I can't watch it anymore. "There's no store for miles. Go easy on the water." He gets snappy. "Why are you being so difficult today? Her hand stinks—she's just supposed to deal with it?" "Washing your hands doesn't take two liters, Ryan." The second I say it, Bowie starts growling at me. Low. Warning. Like he's telling me not to raise my voice at Sophie. The absurdity of it hits me—the dog I raised for five years is growling at me for someone else. My mood spirals. I turn, get in the car, and pull up the route on my phone. Sophie slides into the back and pats my shoulder. "Come on, road trips are all about compromise. You didn't wanna pick up after Bowie, so I did it. I just wanted to wash my hands. Don't be so uptight." I open my mouth to explain—she's already onto the next topic. "I sent you the dinner spot. Drive us there next." I glance at the screen and frown. "It's a seafood place. I don't eat seafood." Ryan slides in and catches the end of it. His face darkens. "Sophie spent all afternoon picking that spot. Do you have to be the one ruining every plan?" Sophie tugs Ryan's hand from the back seat, looking embarrassed on my behalf. "You should've said something sooner, Mia. We already booked." They decided when I wasn't even there. They cut me out. Again. I keep my voice steady. "I'm severely allergic to shellfish. Did you both forget I went into anaphylactic shock last time?" Ryan pauses. He and Sophie exchange a look. The last time I went into anaphylactic shock, it was because of them. It was my birthday. They knew about the allergy—and still ordered a giant seafood platter. Called it a surprise. I refused. They coaxed me. "Just one bite. A little won't hurt." I ate one shrimp. Within ten minutes my throat closed like someone's hand was around it, and my lips swelled shut. They thought I was acting. They were laughing. "She's really committing." By the time I collapsed and turned purple, they finally panicked and called 911. The ER doctor said another few minutes and I'd have been dead. I woke up and didn't blame them. I just never touched shellfish again. Ryan's still talking. "Babe, of course I remember. But we came all this way, and this place is famous for its seafood. You've gotta try at least one bite." "Don't worry, I'll tell the waiter—no shrimp or crab on your plate." "Stop being so uptight. You're a grown woman. Being scared of everything ruins the whole vibe." I'm done with Ryan. Just then, my phone buzzes. Flash flood warning. Mudslides. The road out is closed—two more days before it clears. I make my decision. The moment it reopens, I'm gone. A boyfriend who couldn't care less about my health. I don't want him anymore.

I start the car and drive to the seafood restaurant. Since the trip started, I've been the only one driving. Ryan and Sophie sit in the back playing with Bowie, laughing nonstop. They roll a window down. Bowie sticks his head out, barking into the wind. Someone in the next car pulls out a phone. Sophie leans right into Ryan like it's the most natural thing, posing. I hear the stranger yell over: "Aww, you two are so cute! Couple on a trip with your dog—and your own chauffeur, huh?" Sophie doesn't correct her. She just cracks up and slaps the back of the driver's seat. "Oh my God, Mia, they think you're our driver! That's hilarious." "I mean, you kinda are. Faster, driver-lady, I'm starving!" Ryan laughs along and tells me to step on it. At the restaurant, Sophie grabs my hand, pulling me out of the car. "Come on, we came all this way, we can't eat without you. It won't feel right." "They've got plenty of non-seafood stuff. I'll order for you—your favorites. Deal?" My stomach growls. My blood sugar's crashing. Fine. I follow them in. Ryan and Sophie slide into the same side of the booth. Sophie whispers—loud enough for me to catch: "Be nicer to your girlfriend, dude." "Yeah, yeah," Ryan mumbles. Then he flags a waiter and orders hot pot. Doesn't even open a menu. The food comes. A massive seafood platter parks in the middle of the table—crab, shrimp, scallops, piled up and steaming. Just looking at it, the bad memories flood back. I can almost feel the phantom squeeze around my throat. I press my temples. "Where's what you were supposed to order for me?" Sophie's face goes big with shock. "Oh no. Mia. I totally forgot." The regret looks perfect. But there's a flicker at the corner of her mouth—smug, gone in a blink. Then she "accidentally" tips a cup of scalding tea. The back of her hand turns red. Ryan jumps up to dab at it, all tenderness. "Look at you—always worrying about everyone else and hurting yourself in the process." "She's so damn sensitive. One bad memory and she'll carry it forever. If you didn't know her, you'd think it was a big deal." I laugh under my breath. I'm done being sad about this. I stand up and leave. Behind me, Sophie hisses: "I told you to be nicer. Now who's driving us back?" Ryan snorts. "She'll cool down soon. She always does." Back at the cabin, Bowie won't listen to a thing I say. It takes everything I have to drag him inside. Two minutes later he's on the bed—stomping, peeing on the sheets, knocking stuff off shelves. I can't take it. I lock him in his crate, go find the owner to settle damages, then clean the whole room myself. By the time I'm done, my back won't straighten. I collapse on the bed and pass out. My phone rings a few times. I don't answer. I sleep hard—until I get woken up by giggling and thumping through the wall. Ryan and Sophie are back. I stomp over, irritated. The door's cracked. Through the gap, I see two shapes tangled on the bed. Sophie's hair is a mess, her dress bunched up around her waist, and she doesn't even seem to notice. She's whacking Ryan with a pillow. Ryan pulls a blanket over her, one hand cradling her protectively even mid-fight. Everything about them—easy, natural, borderline domestic. I let out a bitter little laugh. This isn't the first time they've been this close. I've walked in on Sophie in front of Ryan without a bra. Ryan changed his pants right in front of her like it was nothing. I never thought twice about it. Told myself they were just laid-back people. Free spirits. But now, watching them curl into each other, I finally get it— My boyfriend and my best friend have feelings for each other. They met through me. Got close through me. Now they're falling for each other through me too? I turn around, walking away with a cold smile. I should thank this road trip. Because in one weekend, it showed me exactly who the two people closest to me really are.

The next morning, I wake up to a dog barking. Sophie's trying to unlatch Bowie's crate. I say, "He's not stable right now. Better to leave him in there." She waves me off, still working the latch. "He's fine. He's such a good boy." She keeps going. My chest tightens. "I already told you—he loses control easily. If you let him out and something happens, are you gonna take responsibility?" Sophie flinches at my tone. Ryan comes out of the bedroom. "What's the problem this early? Can you not do the attitude thing every single morning?" I don't answer. I grab my running clothes off the chair and head out for a jog. When I get back, I see the mess in the yard from a block away. I already know. She let him out anyway. Bowie was too wound up—she couldn't hold him. He tore through the open door and bit some poor woman's little dog on the walking trail. Sophie stands in the yard, helpless. Ryan holds the leash in one hand and the other on the small of her back, rubbing gentle circles. "Don't worry, I've got you." Then he turns and walks toward me. "The other dog barely got hurt, but the owner is trying to shake us down." I try to walk past him. "Not my problem. You two handle it." He blocks me. "Your dog. Your responsibility." I laugh in his face. "Now he's my dog?" Sophie sidles over, head down, knowing she was in the wrong. "Mia, I know I messed up. I'm sorry. But Bowie's yours—you know him best. Please." Two grown adults, and neither can own up to a thing. But owner is a word that traps me. I can't leave a hurt dog sitting there. So in the rain, I take the injured pup to the vet. I negotiate a payout with the owner. I fill out the paperwork. By the time it's done, it's dark. I'm soaked to the bone. I drag myself back to the cabin. They're on the couch. Bowie between them. A movie playing. Snacks everywhere. Cozy. Happy. Warm. It makes my blood boil. Sophie waves at me, cheerful. "You made it. Come grab a snack." I reach for the last bag. Bowie snatches it out of my hand. Sophie just laughs. "Little piggy." Ryan tosses a towel at me from the couch. "Well, today's plan is shot. What are we doing tomorrow?" I don't hide it. "I don't know. Whatever you want." Ryan's face tightens. He raises his voice. "What's with you? You're supposed to be handling the itinerary. Are we just gonna wander around aimlessly because you're in a mood?" Sophie stops him, giggling. "Don't pick fights with her. She's the one with the keys. Piss her off and she'll leave you on the side of the road." Ryan smirks. "She wouldn't dare. Not in a million years." I slam the bedroom door and shut them out. Three people on this trip. They planned nothing, and complained about every stop. We were supposed to take turns driving. Every time it was their turn, they had an excuse. I did every mile. The two of them, sitting pretty for photos. Neither of them even knew how to book a train ticket. Fine. I'm done playing along.