Chapter 20
TWENTY
Rhett
Present Day
N o, Lainey, you have no idea what happened.
As those words hit her, her head slightly shook, like she was fighting against them. Like she didn’t want to believe what I’d just said.
What she wanted to believe was the version of the story she knew. The one that had been living within her mind for the last fifteen years.
Every tale needed a villain.
I was that person.
I couldn’t blame her for giving me that title, not after all the information that had been fed to her. But what had been omitted were details that changed everything. That didn’t just shift the story, but flipped it on its back.
That side—my side—was long overdue.
And I had no plans on leaving these bleachers until she heard it.
I tapped the spot next to me, filling my lungs before I said, “Please sit.” I waited for movement, and when there was none, I added, “Or come closer and just stand here.” I pointed at the row in front of me. “I need to get some things off my chest.”
“I don’t understand what there is to say at this point. What could you possibly tell me that I don’t already know?”
I pulled at my tie. The knot was pushed against my skin in a way where it felt as though it were trying to choke me. “The truth.”
“I already know that.”
I nodded. “You do, yes, but not all of it. There’s much more that you haven’t heard.”
Curiosity was getting the best of her—I could see it in her expression—and she slowly took a seat on the bottom bleacher, putting a row between us. She turned until her feet were on the metal in front of her, her arms folded around her knees. She focused on the parking lot, where my car was, and when an excruciating amount of time had passed, she finally looked at me.
“Tell me how you found me. I doubt you live near here, and”—she nodded toward me—“dressed in that suit, you definitely didn’t come here to work out.”
If I was going to come clean about the past, then I’d have to confess the present.
I would put everything on the table. I would show her every card.
What she did with that information was up to her.
So, I said, “I know you don’t live near here either. Not your parents’ place. I’m talking about your new apartment.”
Her eyelids narrowed as she looked at me. “Have you been following me?”
“I haven’t. But my assistant has. I asked her to.”
She gazed at me as if I’d just slapped her. “Why?”
“Why?” My voice was softer than normal. “That’s a good question.” I took my jacket off and set it on the bench beside me. “When I saw you at …” My voice trailed off, and after a few seconds, I tried again. “When I saw you, I couldn’t believe you were there or that you were back. I still can’t. And I know I’ve said that to you many times in the past, but each time, I’ve meant it more, and this time certainly takes the fucking cake.” I pressed my palms together and held them between my legs. “I never thought I’d get the chance to talk to you in person. There were times I thought about getting on a plane and coming to you, but …” I went quiet again. “Obviously, I didn’t.” My throat was dry, my chest pounding like I’d been the one walking the track. “Now that you’re here, in LA, I wasn’t going to waste the opportunity. I guess I was just waiting for the right time, even if that meant going to the airport and having a discussion with you before you entered security.”
“But to have someone follow me? Just to figure out when would be the right time to talk to me? That’s some stalker-level shit, Rhett.”
I nodded.
I couldn’t disagree with what she’d said.
The whole thing was fucked—I wasn’t denying that.
“I couldn’t exactly go to your parents’ house and ring the bell and ask your dad if I could talk to you, could I?”
She rocked over the bleacher. “Still, that’s some unhinged behavior. I hope you know that.”
“I do.”
She looked away. “God, this is so … I don’t know what this is.”
“It’s fucked,” I said, repeating the words that I’d just voiced in my head.
“Yes.”
“I know you won’t get it—hell, I’m not sure I even get it—but having my assistant follow you made me feel closer to you.” I briefly focused on my hands before I glanced at her. “I wanted that.”
“Rhett—”
“I told you … you wouldn’t get it.”
As she rubbed her lips together, her eyes softened. Her body almost curling into a ball. “What is it that you want to tell me?”
I took my time saying, “It’s about Penelope.”
Her head leaned back; her eyes closed.
Her throat bounced as she swallowed.
“If you’re going to go into detail about what happened between you and my sister”—she paused as she drew in a shaky breath—“I don’t want to hear it.”
“Lainey—”
“And if you’re going to tell me you weren’t high when it happened, don’t bother. I already know you were.”