Chapter 16
SIXTEEN
Rhett
Present Day
W hen I heard the knock on my office door, I had a feeling who was behind it. A feeling that was confirmed as the knob twisted and Ridge’s face appeared in the crack. He was the only motherfucker in this universe who had the balls to come in without waiting for permission. Rowan was behind him, the two walking in like they fucking owned this space. They closed the door and took seats in front of my desk.
My hands left the keyboard of my computer, my arms crossing over my chest as I eyed down my siblings. “What?”
“You know what,” Ridge said. He waited, and when I gave him nothing, he continued, “When you dropped Daisy off, you wouldn’t stay to talk. You’re not answering any of our calls or text messages. This can’t continue, Rhett. We need to know what the hell is going on with you.”
“Talk to us,” Rowan said.
Concern was etched across their faces.
It should make me feel bad.
But it didn’t.
In fact, it did the opposite. It pissed me off.
“What do you want to hear me say?” I pounded my palms on the desk. “What’s going on with me should be fucking obvious.”
“The date, the anniversary—we get that,” Ridge said. “But is there more?”
“We’re assuming there is,” Rowan said softly. “And that Trista has something to do with it because whenever we reach out to her to ask where she is, she tells us that we should ask you.” She chewed her lip. “So, we’re here … asking you.”
I’d told Trista to keep her mouth shut about her assignment. It pleased me to no end that she’d followed my order.
“What’s going on?” Ridge asked.
I had known this conversation was coming. That didn’t mean I wanted to have it. But I wasn’t taken by surprise, and that mattered when it came to this.
“Lainey’s back.”
My gaze shifted between their faces as the words registered with them. Their reactions were exactly what I’d anticipated.
They were shocked as hell.
“You mean … back , back?” Rowan asked.
I nodded. “She rented an apartment in West Hollywood.”
“Damn, she really is back,” Rowan voiced.
“How do you know that?” Ridge asked.
“I ran into her the night of Brady’s bachelor party,” I told them, avoiding Ridge’s question.
“Hold on a second.” Rowan leaned forward onto her thighs. “You left the strip club and just randomly ran into her?”
My teeth ground together. “Yes.” I glanced down at my lap. “She stumbled upon me. I was over on Murphy Drive … asleep.” I let out a loud exhale and faced them.
“Murphy Drive … oh .” Ridge exchanged a look with Rowan, the two of them knowing the spot I was referring to.
“You were asleep?” Rowan was careful with the way she asked her question.
Because this was territory they knew I wasn’t comfortable speaking about.
A layer that they never got me to discuss.
All they got out of me was a nod.
“How did it go when you saw her?” Rowan asked. “Did you get a chance to talk to her?”
How did it go?
That was a memory I’d been replaying in my head since it’d happened.
The details on fucking repeat, a continuous loop that wouldn’t let up.
“You mean, did she throw her arms around me and tell me how much she missed me?” The anger was bubbling in my goddamn chest. “Hell no. It went the way you’d imagine. She didn’t want to talk to me.”
“I just thought?—”
“That after all this time, she’d have a change of heart?” I shot back as Rowan tried to justify her reply. “No. Quite the opposite.”
“Rhett …” Her voice was so soft, her head shaking.
“Have you seen her again?” Ridge asked.
I rubbed my hands over the top of the desk. “No.”
“Then, how do you know she moved into an apartment in West Hollywood?” Rowan asked.
I had a feeling that question was going to come back around.
“Oh shit, don’t even tell me you’re having Trista follow her and that’s what she’s been up to?” Ridge paused, reading my face. “Rhett fucking Cole, what is wrong with you?”
“Everything,” I replied. “Fucking everything.”
“What are you going to do with the information that Trista’s collecting?” Ridge asked.
My phone vibrated from my desk, a text from Trista on the screen.
Trista
She’s at a high school, walking the track outside.
Me
Which high school?
She sent another message with the name of the school.
My stomach was suddenly in fucking knots.
It wasn’t just any school.
It was the high school we’d attended.
And it wasn’t located anywhere near West Hollywood, which meant Lainey had gone there for a reason.
To remember?
To reminisce?
I was sure there were many reasons.
Me
When she leaves, tell me immediately.