32
I love you all. I love you more than life itself, but you're all fucking mad.—Ozzy Osbourne
It wasn't that she was that hard to please, but none of the dozens of houses she looked at were right.
They were either too new and cookie cutter, or too old and beyond help.
She blamed that gorgeous old Victorian. After her mother's death, Rhett called Mel's friend Gary and had him go look at the house with her, figuring a contractor would be able to assess the condition of the house.
And, oh, Gary had assessed it. He'd taken about five pages of notes even before they got inside, and once he'd seen the interior he just threw up his hands.
Her heart still sank when she remembered the dilapidated condition of a once-beautiful home. Carved into miniscule apartments and stripped of all its original details, the house had been neglected until it wasn't fit for habitation. Even Rhett had to agree it was beyond saving.
Why couldn't she find something like that Victorian that she could renovate? Why was every stinking thing for sale so bland? But she kept looking, almost desperate now to move out of Mel's condo and prove that she was tough enough to go it on her own.
She accepted now that she would be on her own. It had been ten days since she stormed out of Drew's house after calling Rhys a pussy and telling him that his daughter was a spoiled brat who needed to be spanked. During that time she received one brief text message from him:
I have to talk to you. It's important, and I'm not getting into it on the phone. I owe it to you to tell you in person. See you in Dallas.
That could only mean one thing. He was going to break up with her for good.
But as much as it hurt, she was almost...
relieved. This roller-coaster he kept her on was killing her.
She never knew from one minute to the next if he would make time for her or shove her aside for someone or something else.
Rhys might think he cared for her, but his actions said otherwise.
She'd tried to break up with him, but she couldn't stay away.
If he called it quits and walked away, then she could finally get off the thrill ride and maybe one day get over him.
Her cell phone chimed in her hand, and she glanced down at the screen at the text message displayed. To her surprise, it was from Sara Kellum.
Don't worry! He's fine. He wasn't hurt. Don't listen to the news. They caught the guy so don't worry.
Icy cold seeped from her heart through her body as she read and re-read the text. Sara didn't need to identify which he was the subject. She wouldn't have texted Rhett if it had been anyone but Rhys.
Her knees gave out as the coldness reached her lower extremities, and she sank to the floor, the hardwood bruising her knees. With shaking hands she brought up her contact list and called Sara. Thankfully, the phone only rang once before it was answered.
"Sara, it's Rhett," she managed to say through trembling lips. "What the hell are you talking about?"
"Oh my God. You haven't heard?"
"No, and you're killing me here." Rhett heard the panic in her own voice, felt it smothering her chest, stopping her heart. "What's going on?"
"Okay, first of all you have to calm down. He's fine. Okay? Rhett, take a breath."
The no-nonsense tone of Sara's voice pushed the panic back a bit, and Rhett was able to pull a deep breath into her lungs. She let it out in a shaky sigh.
"All right, I'm calm. Calmer, anyway. What happened?"
"Okay. It was last night in Little Rock. They left the arena about two in the morning to head to the airport. They were on the interstate when this big truck side-swiped the car Rhys and Drew were in."
"Big truck?" Rhett's now-hammering heart jumped into her throat. "Like an eighteen-wheeler?"
"No," Sara said. "Like a half-ton pickup.
Bumped the car pretty hard and drove it into the guard rail.
T was driving, and he managed to get it stopped when he noticed the truck pulled up and stopped in front of them.
Well, he just figured the driver was checking to see if they were okay, and T gets out of the car.
That's when he saw that the dude had a gun. "
"Oh, Jesus. Oh, Jesus." Rhett rocked back and forth as her panic came back and roared through her, obliterating the cold with fiery dread. "Did he shoot T?"
"Winged him in the arm, but he's okay. He pulled his own piece and got the guy in the shoulder and the hip, and he went down like a ton of bricks."
Rhett wiped streaming tears from her face with a shaking hand. "Rhys? Drew?"
"They're okay," Sara said. "Neither one of them was hurt."
"What the hell was that guy's problem?" Now that she knew Rhys hadn't been shot or hurt, all the strength drained from her body and left her limp. She lay down on the floor and drew her knees up to her chest.
"Well, turns out he's married to this chick named Shannon Lassiter. Do you know about her?"
Rhett racked her brain, but the name wasn't familiar. "No, never heard of her."
"Oh. Well, she and Rhys were together for about a year not long after he and Hayley got divorced.
This chick, Rhett? She was nuttier than a cheap Christmas fruitcake, and apparently she hasn't changed a bit.
Her husband had no idea she'd ever been Rhys's girlfriend until yesterday.
Shannon wanted to go to the concert, but her husband didn't get tickets, so she starts telling him all about Rhys, and how Rhys was so much better than him.
How his dick was ten times bigger, and how he was the best lover she ever had, and... "
"Yeah, I got it," Rhett interrupted.
"Oh. Um, sorry. But anyway, the husband lost his fuckin' mind. He beat the shit out of Shannon and then headed to the arena. He waited around until the band left, followed them, and took out the car Rhys was in."
Rhett's breath hitched in her chest as the full implication of what Sara was saying hit her. "He was after Rhys. Oh, my God, he was going to shoot Rhys." Everything inside her seemed to shatter apart at once with a quick, sharp snap, leaving her empty and hollow. "He was going to kill him."
"But he didn't, Rhett." Even Sara's voice seemed to echo and reverberate inside Rhett's head. "Listen to me. He didn't get close to Rhys."
"Close enough," Rhett said in a near-scream. "What if the guy had done more than just wound T? What if he'd really hurt him? Then he would have—"
"No, he wouldn't," Sara insisted. "Owen and Jax were already there behind them ready to take the guy down if T couldn't. He wasn't going to get to Rhys."
"How did he know which car it was?"
"Now that I don't know. It must have been a lucky guess, because there were four Town Cars all in a row, and the one Rhys was in was third." Sara's voice gentled. "I didn't mean to scare you, but it's been on the news even down here in Mobile. I didn't want you to see it and freak out."
"I would have lost my mind if I'd seen some sensational story on the news," Rhett said. "At least you know what really happened so you can tell me. Where's Rhys now?"
"They're in Memphis. They had to stick around Little Rock forever to give statements and all that happy horseshit, and for T to get his shoulder patched up so they didn’t get to Memphis until this morning.
They play there tonight, and then in Dallas day after tomorrow.
You can see him when he gets there and see that he's okay. You're going to the show, right?"
"Maybe. I don't know. Sara, I told you about the fight we had." Without warning, she burst into huge, braying sobs. "And now some asshole goes after him with a gun, and I'm just sitting here not able to do anything, and...and...Christ, Sara. What am I going to do?"
"Oh, honey, don't cry. I mean...Shit. I've got another call coming through. It's Ross. Hang on."
Rhett took the opportunity to get herself under some semblance of control.
She managed to beat the crying back to a slow trickle and pushed herself to her feet.
Each step she took was tentative and careful, like a baby just learning to walk.
Still shaking with reaction, she expected her knees to give out at any moment and dump her back on the floor.
In the kitchen, she tore a paper towel off the roll and mopped up her face. She was in the middle of pulling a bottle of water from the fridge when Sara came back on the line.
"Rhett? I've gotta make this quick because Ross is still on the other line. They're going to have to reschedule the show in Memphis. Seems Drew's arm got banged up worse than they thought, and he can't play tonight. Look, I'll call you back later, okay?"
"Yeah, okay." Rhett sagged against the counter. She needed time to process everything she'd been told and find some way to deal with it. "Find out how Drew is and let me know."
"I will, promise. Later."
Rhett tossed her phone onto the counter and pressed the cold water bottle to her eyes.
Now that she thought about it, there was no way in hell she would be able to process any of what happened.
And deal with it? Fat chance. Everything that shattered apart inside of her now flew up in a maelstrom, the sharp edges cutting her to ribbons, and she really thought she might lose her mind.
She wanted to scream, and at the same time she wanted to curl up in a silent ball.
The urge to run was overwhelming, but she also wanted to just sink back to the floor and cry.
Most of all, she wanted to turn back time, to go back ten days to L.A.
and agree to anything Rhys wanted. Then she would have been with him the night before.
She would be with him now, able to touch him and look at him and hear that smoky voice and know that he was all right.