Page 13

thirteen

RHETT

Austin, TX, USA

"You needed a new home.”

Swallow.

"I said you belonged here."

Heart sinks.

“Trust yourself.”

Blur of white.

“What if I fuck it all up?”

Rubber hitting glass.

“What if…they see me?”

My nails dig into my skin.

“What is there to see?”

“Can you hear me?”

My head thuds against the window as it slips from my hand, jerking me awake.

“Fuck, ” I groan, rubbing my temple.

“Can you hear me now?”

I shake my head, blinking hard until the world sharpens into focus. Until I remember where I am. Still here.

And why.

My eyes find her instantly—stumbling out of Randall’s Tavern, the door slamming behind her as she continues rambling into her phone.

“Yeah, I’m here! I’m sooo here... What?.

.. Oh, that. Right. I can’t talk right now, actually.

.. No, I’m really busy. So many st—stats to review.

Huh?... No! It was nothing. Absolutely nothing.

I’ll call you tomorrow... Yes, promise. Pinky promise.

Cross my heart and hope to die. Like, for real—what? Wait, Addie? Hello?”

She frowns at the phone, squinting at the screen. “Crap.”

Running a hand through her hair, Caroline sighs, spins—very wobbly—on her heel, and moves to head back inside. But her phone slips through her fingers, clattering to the pavement.

She lets out a dramatic groan and squats down awkwardly, groping around blindly in the dark.

I push open the door of my Range Rover and walk over.

She continues grasping aimlessly until her hand lands squarely on the toe of my dress shoe. She lets out something between a gasp and a squeal, nearly toppling backward. I catch her by the arm just in time and pull her upright.

It takes a full three seconds of swaying before she finally blinks up at me.

“You okay?” I ask.

She squints.

“Cub?”

“No.”

“No?”

“Not anymore.”

She turns toward the door and shoves it.

“Cub—”

“Excuse me,” she cuts in, glaring over her shoulder. “I’m trying to listen to you for once. I’m trying to have a good rest of my night. So let me, would you?”

She turns back to the door, giving it another push. Nothing. Frustrated, she leans her full weight into it.

“Ugh!” she grunts, shoving hard against the door. “Why won’t this open?”

“You may want to try the handle,” I offer.

She straightens her spine like I just personally insulted her. Then she reaches for the handle, gives it a turn, and the door swings open easily.

“I knew that,” she huffs.

“Of course you did.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“What? Nothing. You just… know a lot of things.”

She narrows her eyes. “Well, what do you know?”

“Not much,” I admit.

She tilts her head. “I think you know more than you give yourself credit for.”

I don’t know how to respond to that.

“I think we should get you a glass of water,” I offer instead.

She rolls her eyes. “You’re a glass of water.”

“Is that… a compliment?”

She scoffs. “No.”

“Thank God. I was about to call for an ambulance.”

She stares at me, looking like she’s weighing whether to laugh or strangle me, then shakes her head and turns back toward the bar.

“Good night.”

“Cub, wait.”

“What now?”

“Your phone.”

I bend down and scoop it up from where it lies in the parking lot .

She exhales hard, blowing a strand of hair from her face as she lets the door fall shut again and walks over to take it. She turns to leave, but I catch her hand.

“How are you planning to get home?”

She glances down at my fingers wrapped around her wrist. I don’t let go.

“I’ll get an Uber,” she says.

“How?” I ask. “Your phone’s dead.”

“I’ll figure it out.”

“Well, the bar closes in…” I glance at my watch. “Fifteen minutes.”

“I could conquer the world in fifteen minutes, Sutton.”

“I don’t doubt it.”

She presses her lips together, her gaze flicking between my eyes the way it has maybe a dozen times over the years—like she’s searching for something.

Every time, I wonder if she’s going to find it. That look gives me a little bubble of hope in my chest, every time. But it never lasts. It always gets swallowed by the tidal wave of dread.

“Hey,” I break in gently. “You feeling okay?”

She blinks. “What?”

“Just… I’m worried you’re gonna be sick.”

She groans dramatically. “Please. I never throw up.”

I give her a look. “Yeah, well… there’s a first time for everything.”

She rolls her eyes but wobbles slightly, reaching out to steady herself on my arm.

I catch her without thinking, keeping my hand at her elbow even as she waves me off.

“Seriously, I’m fine,” she insists.

A beat passes. Just long enough for her to try to shake me off. Just long enough for the color to drain from her face .

Her lips part again—but this time she slaps a hand over her mouth.

And bolts.

Well—tries to. She only makes it about five feet before doubling over and puking all over the front passenger tire of my Range Rover.

I rush over, crouching beside her. One hand gathers her hair, the other steadies her back as she keeps going. “There it is,” I mutter.

“Rhett, why are you here?” she mumbles.

I swallow.

“I know we had a deal,” I say quietly. “But I just wanted to make sure?—”

“How do you do it?” she interrupts, glancing up at me, glassy-eyed. “Why are you always here?”

She taps her fingers against her temple, like she’s trying to knock the thought loose.

My brows pull together.

“I don’t?—”

She cuts me off, lurching forward with another wave of nausea.

“Don’t look at me,” she groans.

“Okay,” I say gently. “I won’t.”

But I never take my eyes off her.