Chapter 18
EIGHTEEN
Rhett
Present Day
I was parked in front of the field at my old high school, watching Lainey make her way around the large oval track. She wasn’t running. Her speed was a brisk walk, and when she passed the spot closest to my car, I could see the white earbuds firmly pressed in her ears.
I wondered what she was listening to.
What she found entertaining, whether it was a podcast or an audiobook. Or maybe she was on the phone, and I just hadn’t seen her lips move.
I had questions.
How had she spent the last fifteen years, aside from what I’d seen on Instagram?
Why was she suddenly back?
And out of all places, what was the reason she’d chosen to walk here?
Our senior year, we’d spent a lot of time on this field. This was where every home game was held. Lainey would be in the stands, watching me play ball. She’d rush to the grass when it was over, jumping into my arms. She hadn’t cared that I was dirty and sweaty. Her lips would find mine and stay there until I pulled away.
Fuck, that felt like a million years ago.
When times had been good.
Unlike now.
I turned off the car and took out my phone.
Me
You can go home. I’m here.
Trista
At the track? I thought I saw you pull in.
Me
Plan on being at the office tomorrow unless you hear otherwise.
Trista
Got it.
Me
And, Trista … thank you.
I slipped the phone into the inside pocket of my suit jacket and got out of the car, walking to the bleachers that were on the right side of the track. The metal should have felt cool beneath me when I took a seat in the third row, but the truth was, I could have put my ass on a block of ice and I wouldn’t have known.
There was too much fire inside me.
Each flame caused my stomach to churn. My head to pound. My hands were damp enough that I rubbed them over my gray pants, and they immediately turned clammy again.
It didn’t matter if I was walking up the rows of bleachers or trying to find a position that didn’t ache, my eyes stayed on her.
Dressed in a pair of tight, bike-style shorts and a zip-up that clung to her torso, she was three-quarters of the way around the track when she stopped. When her fingers, which hung at her sides, wiggled before they clenched into fists.
If I hadn’t already felt her gaze on me, then the way she’d halted would have told me she’d spotted me. But the intensity of her stare was hitting me in a way where I could feel it on every inch of my body.
This wasn’t the look she’d given me when she was on the other side of the volleyball net and my eyes locked with hers for the very first time.
That was untarnished.
Too innocent.
A time before I knew the sound of her voice. Before I knew the feel of her skin.
Before I’d ever caught one of her tears.
The look that passed between us now was of two people who had experienced some of the hardest parts of life.
Even if it wasn’t together.
I stood from the metal bench, shoving my hands into my pockets. “I just want to talk.”
I knew my voice was loud enough.
Hell, Lainey would have heard me even if I’d whispered.
Her head dropped. Her chest was rising and falling, which had nothing to do with her trying to catch her breath from the walk. Lainey’s body was fit; she could handle any pace.
The reason for her heavy breathing was me.
“Please, Lainey.”
She glanced up.
The fire in my chest moved into my throat. “I only need a couple of minutes.”
That was a fucking lie.
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.”