Chapter 29
— Remmy —
My eyes burned with unshed tears as I pressed my face into Scout’s shirt, savoring his scent, not knowing if this would indeed be the last time I’d smell him. Be held in his arms.
The hollowed pit of my empty stomach didn’t fully believe his declaration of seeing me—the “soon” part silently implied.
The door clicking shut in Scout’s wake echoed through my bones. I dashed away the tear that had been poised until my solitude, then stumbled to the bathroom to shower as fast as I could.
One step into the bathroom, I paused. My eyes flicked to, then narrowed on, the offending toilet. My heart sank. Fuck it ached. Not only with the realization that Scout had been sick again, but knowing, deep down, that I was the cause of it… again. I’d suspected he made himself sick during times of stress, but now I was pretty damn sure of it.
Pent-up emotion warred within me as I turned on the shower and undressed. No more tears fell the instant I stepped under the cool water. I barred them tight, locking them away for when I was back in the privacy of my own apartment. I needed to focus on getting home without drawing too much attention to myself.
Scout booking a charter was a blessing I didn’t want to accept out of pride, but fuck if brought relief like no other. Short-lived, but appreciated nonetheless.
I’d told Bren and Steph about the dire turn of events and that I wouldn’t be flying back to Portland with them later today. Bren had clutched my arm as I told her the situation that blew up overnight, and while I wanted to slap her pallid cheek, I’d already forgiven her. Besides, lashing out wouldn’t change the outcome of last night.
Instead, I hugged them both, promising that I’d let them know as soon as I was back home.
Dressed, luggage packed, and sunglasses already jammed firmly over my eyes, I took a final fortifying inhale, then left the sanctuary of my hotel room.
The walk down the long corridor was quiet. The tension in the elevator pushed my lungs into my throat. And when the cart deposited me on the ground floor, I steeled my jaw and stormed across the lobby giving fuck off vibes so no one had the balls to approach. The guy on the reception desk swallowed an intimidated gulp as I strode toward him.
“Good morning, Miss Adams.”
I forced breeze to my voice. “Good morning. How do I get out of here without going through that ? Ideally, I’d order an Uber, but—” I thumbed over my shoulder, toward the door where the media already circled.
“We can arrange a basement pickup,” reception guy replied without batting an eyelid. He understood the assignment.
Relief deflated my lungs. “Asap, please.”
“Use the elevator around the corner and go down to basement level one, which is the parking level. You’ll see a pickup zone. Wait there. Ten minutes, tops,” he promised.
With a final side-eye at the gathering interest at the front of the hotel and the security guards maintaining order, I thanked him profusely, then retraced my steps to the elevator.
Once inside and descending, a shiver shot through my body. The elevator wall caught my weight as I allowed myself a moment to sag under the amassing invisible weight.
It only took another few minutes before a shiny white sedan with heavily tinted windows purred down the ramp and cruised to a stop beside me. The driver got out, nodded, loaded my bags without a word, then motioned for me to enter the backseat.
I eyed him carefully. He didn’t look like an axe murder.
As if hearing my internal deliberation, he nodded at the car again. “My ID card is hanging in the window.”
With a murmured, “Thanks,” I slid into the backseat and checked it before buckling.
“Where to?” he asked, easing behind the wheel.
“The private airport. I don’t know the name—”
“I know the one,” he interjected.
Too weary to reply, I simply let my head tip back against the headrest while he smoothly drove me from the basement.
“Duck down if you want,” came his suggestion. “A few cameras tried to follow me through the gate.”
I grumbled a curse while bending as far forward as I could, hoping that if they got a shot of me, it would be of nothing but my back. Sure enough, flashes of light filled the car until my driver was able to speed away as best he could in traffic.
“Bastards,” he muttered.
A bolt of dread cut through my chest. “Are they following?” I asked, catching him glancing in the rear vision mirror and frowning.
“No. It doesn’t appear so.”
“Thank God. And thank you for the heads up…” I smoothed down my clothes and tucked my handbag a little tighter into my lap.
“Name’s Graham, by the way.” He tapped the ID card swinging back and forth. “In case you didn’t read it.”
“I did,” I mumbled, watching buildings, people, and cars pass as we drove.
“So, what’s got you leaving under cloaks and haste?”
My attention snapped to him, eyes burning into his profile until he glanced back with a small smile.
I shrugged. “Stuff.” I would have said personal stuff, but it was all public knowledge if someone was desperate enough to search it up or care.
He dropped the small talk until we entered the executive airport. “Are we going skydiving or drop off at terminal. If so, which one?”
“Immediate no to skydiving,” I grumbled. “As for the terminal…” I scrolled the recent message from Scout detailing exactly what I needed to know, then passed the information on to Graham.
After checking in at the designated terminal, I checked the list of phone calls I’d ignored over the last hour. The last one was from Bastian.
Two rings after tapping his name, he answered with an amused drawl. “Way to break the internet, Rems.”
“Great, you’ve heard too.”
“I think most of America is waking up to the headlines The Pitcher and the Porno .”
My stomach churned, threatening to push the nausea higher, past the point of no return. “It’s not fucking funny, Bastian.” Tears stung in the back of my nose and clouded my vision. I sniffed, frantically trying to pull myself together. “Do Mom and Dad know?”
Bass scoffed. “Dunno. Actually, no. I would have heard from them already if they did.”
That was a kick to the guts. I’d almost guarantee they wouldn’t call me first. And it would be chalked up to another one of “Remmy’s infamous incidents”.
“So,” Bass cut off my internal doomsday plot, “what are your plans?”
I kept my voice and chin low to guard against eavesdroppers. “I’m about to fly home on a chartered jet.”
“Running… I like it.” I pictured him nodding.
“Shut up. I’m not running; I’m avoiding .”
He snickered. “Want me to enable? Pick you up when you land?”
A whooshed exhale loosened the knot in my lungs. “Would you?”
“Sure. I mean, I’d lord it over you until I needed a favor in return, but yeah, just tell me when and where.”
I glanced at the hive of activity around the departure door and sat forward in my seat. “I think I’m departing soon but will message you the details.”
“Sweet. Need to stay at mine too?”
My lip curled—not quite a smile, not quite a grimace. “No thanks. I’d rather face my fate in Miami.”
Bass scoffed again. “Rude, but the offer stands.”
A wave of sappy emotion made my heart swell. I swallowed around the lump in my throat before clearing it. “Thanks, Bass. I really appreciate it.”
“Any time, Rems. Give me those deets, and I’ll see you soon.”
“Thanks,” I whispered again before disconnecting quietly.
I sat for a moment looking at the phone screen, trying my hardest to stop myself from crying, when footsteps approached.
“Miss Adams, your plane is ready.”