Page 107 of A Cold Hard Truth

“What?” Remington’s internal alarms went off and he wondered if he’d been wrong. What if Rhys had called him up to Mallardsville to make a spectacle of his relationship with Sebastian? There had to be plenty of ways to break the two men up than to publicly humiliate Remington by making him witness Sebastian going back to his ex-wife.

Remington knew Rhys had a history with Callahan that ended with a heartless and detached dismissal, and Remington muttered a curse under his breath. Sebastian’s brother was clearly an attention seeker. Remington didn’t need to know him personally to know that. He’d grown up with men like Rhys. Marston had been like Rhys. They’d all be like him, and Remington had walked right into his youth all over again.

In the blink of an eye, Remington was a teenager again. He looked up at the dark night sky, half expecting meteors and the malicious words of his bullies to echo again in his ears. But he wasn’t in Chicago. He was in California, and the bright city lights of Mallardsville obscured the stars. He couldn’t even make out a constellation if he tried, and Remington found himself longing for the solitude of his youthful escapes.

“Not like that,” Rhys clarified, obviously in answer to the look on Remington’s face. “Jesus, the two of you, I swear.”

“What then?” he asked. “Why am I here?”

“Before we go in.” Rhys gestured at the door, ignoring him. “Why are you the way you are, Remington? Why are you so against everything we are?”

“I’m not anything like you.”

A group of women spilled onto the sidewalk behind Rhys, laughing and talking far louder than the situation called for. Rhys stumbled forward, expression turning dark when one of the women, a leggy blonde, started to make eyes at him.

“Hey there,” she drawled, dragging her hand over his shoulder.

“Pass.” Rhys turned away from her, not giving her another moment of his time. His stare focused back on Remington with a singular intensity.

“I’m not like you,” Remington said again.

“You’re right.” Rhys smirked. “You’re just like Sebastian. Just like Callahan.”

“How do you figure?”

“Both of them are only focused on themselves. Whattheywant. What they need. What they deserve.”

“And you?”

Rhys’s smirk faltered before falling away completely. “We’re not here for me, are we?”

“No,” he agreed. “We’re not.”

“As it goes.” Rhys’s expression shifted, the stoic framing of his features turning on like a switch had been flipped. “Anyway. My brother is inside with his ex-wife and my ex-fiancé. Rather, he’s hiding in the bathroom for now. But not for long.”

“What’s happening tonight?” Remington glanced over his shoulder into the restaurant, but it was dimly lit and he couldn’t see anything beyond the host stand.

“A celebration for a friend,” Rhys said. “And if all goes well, Sebastian’s ex is going to say something regrettable, and we’ll be able to get her out of our lives forever.”

“That’s why you came to get Sebastian.”

“He needs to be here.”

“And me?”

“So do you.”

Remington inhaled, dragging his tongue across the front of his teeth and leveling an annoyed look at Rhys. “Do you ever not speak in riddles?”

“When it suits me,” Rhys explained. “To be honest, it gets exhausting forcing everyone to piece things together on their own.”

Rhys glanced over his shoulder. “I’m going to find my brother. You have a few minutes, but you shouldn’t linger out here for too long.”

With that, Rhys turned and slipped back into the darkness of the restaurant, leaving Remington alone on the curb. He needed to clear his head, to try and make sense of the things Rhys had just implied. Instead of following him inside, he turned on his heel and walked down the block.

The loud noises of the restaurant quieted the closer he got to the corner. When he reached it, he leaned against the edge of the building and let out a breath that vibrated against his throat. He itched to call Jace for support, to talk to Sebastian, but he was smart enough to recognize he was at a crossroads.

How far had Remington come in the past month? The weeks that had passed since he’d sent his first message as Allan to a man he thought was named George? Since he’d read books and—admittedly—watched a lot of porn to further explore his desires? His wants…