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But I kept my thoughts to myself, not wanting to share the good state—the lucky place—I’d landed in all thanks to one little app.
My cell pinged, alerting me that the battery ran low.
“Mom,” I interrupted, picking up the phone, “my cell is about to die. I have to go.”
“I expect you to head back to Nora’s immediately. Your father and I will find a way to fly you home.”
Yeah, no thanks.
“I love you, Mom, but Dad told me to spread my wings—and I plan on it. I gotta go,” I repeated and hung up without another word.
I breathed in a deep breath, glorying in the freedom even though I had almost nothing to my name.
A chance lay at the end of my path, one that could bring the type of love and happiness I craved. Children. Affection. Appreciation.
If my nature didn’t curl Rhett’s nose like it did most people.
Sudden tears stung my eyes, and I went in search of a phone charger I could borrow since I hadn’t brought mine.
Hopefully, Ashton texted soon, letting me know how Rhett fared and when they would be home.
Home.
I stood in their bedroom doorway, eyeing the massive bed with its navy coverlet and countless pillows. Longing to be in its center, surrounded by hard muscle and warm skin rushed through me like a prairie-swept storm.
I leapt into action, my feet taking me across the room before the thought made sense in my head.
“Oomph!” My breath left in a rush as I landed face-first on a pile of fluff, feathers, and comfort.
Oh yes, I could definitely get used to this.
As long as two men bookended me like I was the most precious book in their library.
Like me, I whispered in my head, recalling the image of Rhett’s smiling face in that picture on the desk. Please.
15
Ashton
Rhett’s father had already set plans in place prior to our arrival at their home midmorning.
A cremation had already been ordered—no services would be held.
Nothing public for friends to show their respects and offer condolences. While that choice hurt my heart, Rhett breathed easier. No wake or funeral meant a lack of people in his face, looking to soothe his grief. It meant no vulnerability, no need for indifference that I wondered about.
But Rhett didn’t appear or seem broken over the death of his mother. They hadn’t ever been close like me and my mom, and not for the first time, I wanted to pull him into my arms and give him all the love and affection he’d missed out on as a child.
The same I felt sure Skylar would offer ours. While she hadn’t been super handsy with me, those fingers of hers had twitched enough I wondered if she’d kept from reaching out for simple touches more often than she’d given during our short hours together.
I wondered how she fared back at our house—and I hadn’t yet told Rhett about the choice I’d made without him. He had enough to deal with.
We planned to fly home the next day, and I shot off a quick text to Skylar to expect our arrival. We ate an early dinner at the hotel’s restaurant, and I downed two glasses of wine, which soured my stomach, or perhaps it was my nerves over the impeding conversation I’d procrastinated in starting.
We both collapsed onto the hotel bed, our bodies finding each other as natural as breathing. Dark circles still clung beneath Rhett’s closed eyes, but half the lines he’d had on his face the night before had smoothed away.
I expected him to pass the fuck out—
“Tell me about your date,” he murmured, his quiet words fluttering anxiety through my chest and churning my stomach even more.