Page 80 of The One

It was certainly going to take more than a few minutes to say everything I needed to, but I’d start with a couple and see how many more I could get out of her.

“Rhett …”

Her head shook.

Her shoulders slumped forward.

And she slowly headed toward me and came to a stop at the base of the bleachers, her arms crossing over her stomach. “What could you possibly have to say to me?”

Every word that came out of my mouth from this point forward held a massive amount of weight.

My eyes closed for just a second, and I exhaled, “Everything.”

A hand rested on her chest, the placement close to her heart.

I understood. Mine was pounding something fierce.

She glanced toward the parking lot. “That’s too broad. I don’t want to go back. I don’t?—”

“I want to tell you what happened.”

That earned me her stare. “I know what happened.”

But she didn’t know the truth from my mouth. I’d only told that to four people—Rowan, Ridge, my mother, and my father.

Everyone else knew an entirely different version of the story.

But I was tired.

Tired of the secrets.

Tired of the lies.

I pulled my hands out of my pockets, and they clenched for her. For all these years, that movement had been constant—squeezing, releasing, squeezing, releasing—just like they were doing now.

“No, Lainey. You have no idea what really happened.”

NINETEEN

Rhett

Fifteen Years Ago

“So, don’t kill me,” Lainey said as I answered the phone and held it to my ear, “but I have some bad news.”

I was halfway down the stairs of my house and halted. “What kind of bad news are we talking about?” I focused on the front door and how I should be walking through it rather than standing in the middle of the staircase. “I’m literally on my way out to come pick you up. Does that mean …”

My mind was spiraling.

Going to Timothy’s beach house had been the plan for a couple of months. We were going to spend a few nights there before we all flew off to Europe for two weeks.

But by the sound of Lainey’s voice, something told me that at least half of that plan was going to change.

“Don’t laugh, okay? But my hairdresser just called, and she had a cancellation, so she can squeeze me in. Like, right now. If I don’t take this appointment, she can’t get me in until after weleave for USC, and I don’t want to wait that long to get my hair done, Rhett. I want my highlights fresh for Europe.”

Highlights fresh for Europe—check.

But that didn’t answer any of my questions, so I said, “I’m not sure what you’re telling me?”