Chapter 23
Bailey
This.
I’ve been waiting my whole life for it.
Rhett’s lips nearly touching mine. The smell of him mixed with the pine in the trees overhead and a breeze coming off the dark surface of the water. Fire crackling. Head spinning. Lips opening. Breath mixing.
I grew up to the soundtrack of this exact moment playing on repeat in my head. Hoping it would happen exactly like this every single summer we returned.
But now?
It’s even better than I imagined.
He twists my hair back at the base of my neck, laced and held in his fist, dipping me closer to his mouth. The effect is spine-tingling. And I wish I could ride this rush longer, except what I want even more is his lips pressed against mine.
“Bailey,” he says, sounding breathless.
When suddenly—
A twig snaps behind the line of trees.
Outside the ring of light from the fire, and near the farthest wall of the Monroes’ cabin.
We startle and spring back.
That wasn’t a pine cone.
And it was too big to be a squirrel.
His back is already to me, blocking my view of whatever just made that noise. Or blocking whatever just made that noise from me.
I bend around his frame, squinting out into the dark. My heart’s already pounding.
I want to scream and shatter everything that just ruined that moment, but I’m too afraid to move or make a sound.
Then I see it.
There’s a faint outline of a deer. Its eyes are reflecting the fire so deeply that they glow at us from the edge of the trees, before it bolts off into the woods. Snapping more twigs just as loud as it goes.
I instantly relax, letting out a laugh that sounds like relief. Embarrassed that we both let that moment get sidetracked by something as insignificant as a deer.
But Rhett stays standing.
His back still faces me, and he hasn’t turned around yet.
“Just a deer,” I tell him, pulling on his hip so he’ll relax again. Hopefully, to finish what was just about to happen.
But he doesn’t move. Instead, he continues staring into the trees, possibly looking for more deer or a man who somehow found us way out here in the literal middle of nowhere.
“There’s nothing else out there,” I tell him. Nothing I can see, anyway.
He pulls his phone from his pocket. The screen illuminates his face.
“The internet had one of those lapses again,” he says, glancing into the tree line.
The signal out here is ancient, and it’s been cutting off and on since we got here.
“There’s no notification from the app, but the cameras should have picked that deer up, and they would have if the internet was working. ”
“It’s okay, Rhett, it was just a deer,” I tell him again, straining my eyes to see if there’s more since deer usually stay in a herd, especially at night.
I check behind me, glancing quickly toward the other side of the wooded line of trees, but the tingles down my spine are no longer from Rhett boxing me in, dwarfing me with his size.
Instead, they’re from the reminder that we’re completely vulnerable and alone out here.
The closest cabin is at least two hundred yards down a long dirt path.
One that’s overgrown and nearly hidden in a grove of trees.
It’d be pitch black all the way there if we had to run.
“Fucking internet,” he grumbles, shoving his phone back into his pocket.
“There’s nothing online that connects me to this address, remember?” I remind him.
“We still need the cameras working. Not flopping every time there’s a blip in connection, otherwise, what’s the point of having them?”
“Do you want to go back inside?” I ask, sensing a new tension rising. And not a good one.
I understand why he’s frustrated, but now I’m frustrated that this just paused whatever was happening between us.
He grabs the food off the grate, then quickly douses the flame with sand so we don’t have to come out again.
When we make it back to the kitchen, Rhett sets the food down on the counter before beelining his way to the front windows. Turning off all the lights in the front room, he pulls the curtain back just an inch to watch for any movement outside. All traces of him wanting to kiss me, forgotten.
“Rhett, it was only a deer,” I repeat more firmly than I actually feel, but Rhett’s reaction to something so small is unnerving me. I continue watching him, but he doesn’t move.
Grabbing plates, silverware, and the salad we made earlier to go with the fish, I get everything ready for dinner while he stands at the front of the house, not moving.
Once everything is ready, I take two long-necked beers from the fridge and twist the cap off the first, cross the room, and hold it out for him, keeping one for myself.
“I’m good,” he says, not bothering to look at me, or at the bottle I’m offering.
I step back and set them both down on the end table beside the couch.
“Okay, but nothing is different than it was ten minutes ago,” I remind him, gently, running a hand up his arm from behind. “That guy doesn’t know where we are. You can relax.”
He drops the curtain and turns to meet my gaze.
His face is a mix of steel and determination, frustrating me to no end.
“There’s a reason I’m here,” he says. “And relaxing just made me lose all sight of it.”
“Rhett.” I laugh, trying to bring the mood back to where it was before that stupid deer. “I’m hardly a distraction. I’m—”
“But you are,” he says, firmly, and I step back. “I should have known better. It took me, what, less than two weeks to let myself throw all caution to the wind with you? And outside the cabin in that wide open space, no less.”
“We didn’t leave any breadcrumbs for this guy to find us,” I remind him.
“We covered our tracks on the way here. You’ve turned this place into a fortress.
” I point to the camera that I know is mounted on the other side of that front room wall, right above the door on the porch. “We don’t need to be on edge here.”
“Maybe if the internet wasn’t cutting out all day,” he answers, running a hand through his hair. “This isn’t a vacation. I’m not here to get caught with my pants down while—”
“Is that a promise?” I interrupt, forcing a smile, trying to pull him out of this downward spiral with what I know is a lame joke. But it doesn’t work. His face hardens even more.
“That. That’s exactly what I’m talking about,” he answers.
“And I need you to give me your latest book so I can try to figure out what this guy is aiming for next. I don’t care what’s in there that you don’t want me to read.
We need to stay two steps ahead of him. Maybe I’ll be able to pull out whatever messages he thinks he’s getting from you. ”
“Not necessary,” I tell him, taking another step back. “I wrote it. I can tell you anything.”
“Isn’t it set at a lake?” he prompts. “This place could be his next focus. It’d be so easy for him to look into your background and show up here.”
“I write love stories, Rhett, not thrillers. My books end happily, not with a tragedy. If it’s my books he’s obsessed with, then I hardly think this is going to go all slasher movie on us,” I tell him.
“He’s obsessed with you, Bailey, not your books. He’s just using them to send you overly personal messages. Does it mention this place anywhere in the book?” he asks. “Acknowledgments? Anything?” He clenches his jaw and tilts the curtain back again, taking another look outside.
“Of course not, I keep my personal life private. The actual names of people or places I’m inspired by never make it inside my books.”
“I need to read it anyway,” he says, dropping the curtain to study me. “There’s got to be something in there we haven’t thought of yet.”
Defeat settles in. We’re right back to where we started.
When these cracks inside of him widen, it feels like I’m standing on the other side of a thick sheet of Plexiglas with my hands pressed along the side, asking him to break through. I can see him, I can talk to him, but I can’t reach him when he goes into protector mode.
“So, we’re going to completely ignore the fact that you almost just kissed me outside?” I ask, suddenly feeling like the only person in the room affected by what almost happened, as if his memory has already been wiped and we’re right back to where we were an hour ago.
“Whatever that was outside is going to have to wait until this is all over,” he says, turning to the window.
I stare at his back. Pretty sure I’ve never felt more alone with him standing in the same room as me.
“Whatever that was?” I repeat, nearly crawling out of my skin with annoyance. “You know exactly what that was, or should I spell it out?”
“You know what I meant, Bailey.” His voice is as rough as sandpaper, and I want nothing more than for him to stop fighting against this and hug me right now. Show me that he meant what he almost did, not keep his back to me while I struggle through the sting of it alone.
I shake my head. “No, I don’t know what you mean, Rhett.
I don’t know what any of this means, except one thing.
If you’re going to get distracted here, then get distracted by me.
Okay? And if you’re going to be here right now, be here for me.
But don’t walk back into my life, nearly kiss me out by that lake, and then instantly regret it. ”
“I don’t regret anything,” he says, shaking his head, before having the audacity to add, “yet,” even more quietly at the end.
“Yet?” I nearly yell. My mouth hangs open, and all the air in my lungs rushes out. I bring a hand up to my neck, feeling the heat settle in.
When he turns to face me again, the look of restraint he had just a moment ago is gone. He’s let the torture in, and it’s flooding him up to his eyes.
“You think I could ever forgive myself if I let something happen to you?” he asks, stepping toward me.
“Imagine if I let your family down. Imagine if . . .” he trails off, shifting his eyes away, running a hand through his hair.
“And even if you were safe and I wanted this, Axel would absolutely kill me and—”