Page 6 of The One

It was churning, forcing on a storm that was thick and so fucking strong that the thunder was clapping over me.

“Rhett?”

Yes, I wanted to reply.

I just couldn’t pry my lips apart.

I had so much to get out—and I couldn’t.

But she could speak. “Rhett.” She could also move, closing the distance between us, placing her hands on my shoulders. “Rhett?”

Yes, I wanted to say again, but my mouth stayed sealed.

Her hands pushed down on my shoulders, and when she wasn’t satisfied with that, they moved to my chest and shook me. “Rhett, you’re sleeping. Wake up!”

THREE

Rhett

Sixteen Years Ago

If Lainey Taylor had been looking in my direction when she walked into our classroom three seconds after the bell rang, she would have seen my mouth drop open. She would have seen me grab the edge of my desk. And she would have seen a wave of heat move across my face, turning my cheeks dark red.

But she wasn’t looking at me.

She was smiling at our English Lit teacher, mouthing,Sorry I’m late, before she put her head down and rushed through the aisle, taking the only empty seat in the second-to-last row.

Which was right beside me.

I sucked in the deepest breath while she reached into her bag and pulled out a pencil and notebook, her eyes now pointed at the whiteboard. My hands stayed glued to the desk. My foot was silently tapping the floor, pushing out all the excess energy suddenly in my body.

What the hell is she doing here?

And why didn’t I know she was coming back?

A goodbye a few months into our freshman year that I couldn’t fucking forget—that was the last time I’d seen her.

I’d had so much hope when she climbed into her parents’ SUV and rolled down the passenger window so she could speak to me while I stood outside the door. I clung to that open window frame and leaned my face in, listening to her promise that she’d keep in touch.

But she didn’t.

Once her father made his way out of the driveway, the vehicle disappearing down the street, I never saw or heard from her again.

Wrecked.

That was how I had felt—and still did, even though that had been over two years ago, at the start of our freshman year, and now, there was only a month left of our junior year.

“Lainey …”

Her back straightened from the sound of my whisper. Her head slowly turned, her eyes widening when they connected with mine. Several seconds passed before she said, “Rhett,” in the smallest, quietest voice.

There was a buzzing in my body, like a million bees were flying from my head to my toes, their wings stirring up my blood as if waves were splashing through my veins. I couldn’t breathe. Words were failing me, and my thoughts were so jumbled; I couldn’t make sense of anything.

I swallowed, hoping that would settle something—anything.

But it didn’t.

It only added to the intensity in which everything was spiraling.