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forty-two

CAROLINE

I listen to the sound of cars passing by. The click of my heels on the pavement. My own breathing.

Because it’s the only thing keeping me from losing it.

I meant what I said in the bar. Rhett can speak for himself. He can fight his own battles.

But that doesn’t mean I don’t want to scream at the people who dared to call themselves his parents.

We haven’t said a word since we left the bar. Not during the short walk back to the hotel. Not as we passed through the lobby. Not as the elevator carried us up in tense, aching silence.

Only when we reach my room do I realize Rhett’s still with me.

"I'm sorry," he finally says.

I spin on my heel, incredulous. “Are you serious?”

He rubs the back of his neck, eyes down. “Yeah… I’m just—I’m sorry you had to witness that. I’m sorry for him. I’m just… fuck. I’m sorry. I’ll leave you alone now. Good night.”

He turns to go, but I catch his arm.

“Rhett, why in hell are you apologizing? ”

He flinches, eyes darting away. “I just… I didn’t?—”

“You didn’t do a single thing wrong.”

He stares at the floor. “Were you there the whole time? Did you hear…”

Everything. I heard everything. And I don’t even know where to start with all of it. But one thing is still true.

“Everybody screws up,” I say.

“Does everybody keep screwing up?”

“When they don’t have people to lean on… yeah, they do.”

His spine stiffens. Jaw tight.

“So don’t listen to your father. He’s a miserable, loveless asshole?—”

“You’re right about that,” Rhett cuts in. “But that doesn’t make him wrong about me.”

“He was wrong,” I say, stepping closer.

“Caroline,” he sighs, leaning against the wall, “you don’t know that. You don’t know what I’ve done.”

“Then I was wrong,” I say softly. “And I… I am so sorry. Rhett, I had no idea?—”

“Don’t do that,” he says quickly, his voice tight, eyes glassy. “Please.”

“Do what?”

“Feel sorry for me. I don’t deserve it.”

“But you do,” I whisper, my voice cracking. “You deserve so much more than you’ve been given. By everyone.”

He shakes his head, staring at the carpet. “No…”

“Yes,” I insist.

He lifts his head, and I realize how close we are. So close I can feel the heat radiating off his skin. But I don’t step back. Neither does he.

We just hover there, suspended, the moment held together by something unseen that neither of us can manage to say.

Then my phone dings, breaking the trance.

Linda: Pictures surfaced of you two out with Rhett’s parents tonight. Great work!

I open the attached photo. A picture of all of us at the bar, captured at just the right moment. Both of Rhett’s parents wearing fake smiles like they belong in a Hallmark ad. Roger clapping Rhett on the back.

“The show goes on,” Rhett mutters.

“I guess it always does.”

We look at each other. Like we both want to say more. But Rhett steps back.

“I’ll let you get some sleep. Good night.”

My lips part, but all I can say is, “Okay.”

I open the door and slip inside. Close it behind me. Lean against it, heart pounding.

I don’t even give myself time to think.

I spin around and open the door again.

Rhett is standing there, hand half-raised like he was about to knock.

“Hey,” he says.

“Hey,” I breathe.

“Sorry,” he mutters, rubbing the back of his neck. “I just saw a weather alert that it might storm tonight, and I wanted to make sure you?—”

I grab the front of his shirt and pull him to me, crashing my lips into his.

He melts into the kiss. His hands find my face, my fingers thread into his curls, and the door falls shut behind him.

We kiss like we’re starving for something only the other can give. Lips bruising. Breath ragged.

Then suddenly, Rhett stiffens.

He pulls back, eyes searching mine.

“Wait,” he says. “What is this? ”

“What I think we both know it’s been for a while now,” I whisper.

I reach for him, but he takes a shaky step back.

“Cub, do you mean it?” he asks. “Because I need you to mean it. If you let me have you this time—those rules are null and fucking void. I’m not letting you go.”

I stare at him for a long beat, giving my brain the chance to catch up to my body. I exhale slowly.

“You know, for so long, I was so sure I knew exactly who you were. When the news broke that you’d been drafted by the Storm, I thought it was a mistake.

Even as I watched the fanbase fall for you, I never did.

I didn’t trust you. Letting you in felt like a risk.

Like you weren’t someone worth betting on. ”

“I remember,” he mutters.

“But then it wasn’t just the team I had to worry about you compromising—the thing my father spent a decade building. That wasn’t enough for you. You had to come for me too. Had to dig under the thick skin I spent my entire life growing. Invade the mind I worked so hard to protect.”

I tilt my head.

“I promised myself the first time we met that I would never give you the satisfaction of having me. Not even for a minute. Because I was smarter than that. I saw through you. I thought there was nothing you could offer me but humiliation, wasted time, and a broken heart.”

Rhett glances away. His voice comes out thin. “If I could change who I was—who I am—I would. One single wish from a genie, and that’d be it.” He snaps his fingers. “But unfortunately, life’s a lot fucking harder than that. So all I can do is try. And you have no idea how hard I do.”

“You’re right,” I breathe. “There’s so much I don’t know about you.”

He winces, gaze dropping .

“Which is why I can say I was wrong.”

His eyes snap to mine. I take a small step closer.

“But Rhett, I want you to prove it. Prove me wrong. Can you do that?”

A beat passes.

“You know,” he murmurs, “I have a reputation for not being very good at taking instruction.” His throat bobs. “But the thing is, I don’t think anyone ever trusted me enough to give me a real chance.”

He steps closer. “Can you trust me, Cub?”

“I don’t know.” I exhale. “Are you going to make me regret it?”

His eyes trace my face. When he speaks again, his voice is soft, but sure.

“Over my dead body.”

“Then if I go down, I guess I’m taking you with me.”

“You better. Because I don’t want to do this without you.”

“This?”

“Life. Any of it.” He cups my face in his hands. “So I’ll ask you one more time. Do you mean it?”

His eyes dart between mine.

I wrap my hand around his wrist. “I mean it. Let’s do this, Sutton?—”

The words barely leave my mouth before he’s kissing me again—deeper this time, with reverence. Like I’m the air he breathes.

He lifts me. My legs wrap around his waist.

We’re moving.

He lays me on the bed like I’m something precious.

It’s so different from the first time.

Clothes come off slowly. Like we’re memorizing. Learning each other all over again.

He sinks into me like it’s something he never wants to forget. Kisses me like I’m his reason for breathing. Moves over me like he’s worshipping every inch of me. His forehead pressed to mine. His mouth brushing my shoulder, my jaw, my lips again.

I pull him closer. Skin to skin. Heart to heart.

His touch is gentle. Like he’s afraid he might break me.

Maybe he will.

But I suppose that’s where the trust comes in.

This is never a position I saw myself in. At the mercy of Rhett Sutton—in more ways than one.

I don’t know what it means. Where it will take me. What it will do to me.

But for the first time, I don’t think I care.

Actually, I don’t think anything.

I just feel. So much.

More than I ever have.

And even if it scares me half to death, I’m going to let it.

Because I don’t know that I’ve ever felt this alive.