Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 116455 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 582(@200wpm)___ 466(@250wpm)___ 388(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 116455 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 582(@200wpm)___ 466(@250wpm)___ 388(@300wpm)
He slammed the door closed again.
I leaned my forehead against the smooth, cool wood. The faint sounds of Patsy Cline’s “Crazy” slithered through the sound system from the Tavern, mocking me.
“JT,” Castor said softly from behind me.
I turned my head against the door to find Cas, Dan, and Reagan, all standing in the hallway, watching me. Cas looked hesitant, Reagan sympathetic, and Dan had his arms crossed over his chest.
“I need to talk to him,” I told Castor. “This is a misunderstanding. Our whole relationship is littered with them. I need to explain.”
Cas shook his head. “He needs to cool off first. He’s not in a place to listen right now.”
Castor meant well, but he was wrong. So wrong. “You don’t get it. That’s the mistake I’ve made in the past. I’ve left him without explaining. Last time—” I hesitated. I didn’t know if Flynn had told anyone about what happened after Horace died. I wasn’t sure he’d want me to tell them now.
Sweet Cas huffed out a breath and rolled his eyes. “I think there’s a middle ground between giving Flynn space to collect his thoughts so that he’s not speaking to you with embarrassed cry-eyes—which is only going to make him more likely to hold a grudge, FYI—and fucking off to New York for three years.” He threw up his hands in exasperation. “And yes,” he said, raising his voice so that Flynn could hear him through the closed door, “I knew that you two were together years ago. Who do you think made sure everyone left you alone that night? If certain people wanted to keep it a secret, destroying the second floor of the Tavern minutes after JT left town was probably not the most subtle way to go about it.” He blew out a breath and made a sweeping motion toward the Tavern like a game show host. “Go on. Get out of here. Maybe use this time to figure out exactly what you’re gonna say.” He gave me a hard look. “And make it good.”
Reagan lifted both eyebrows. I wasn’t sure I’d ever seen Castor upset before. I wasn’t sure I’d heard him swear before, even.
I took a deep breath and steeled myself against the pain that was lodged in my chest and throat. Then I turned around and trudged back down the hall.
Reagan squeezed my shoulder as I passed, then turned and walked out with me.
Flynn Honeycutt had asked me for space, so I’d give him space.
For now.
It took me about eight hours before I caved and tried again.
“Fuck Flynn Honeycutt, and fuck his space,” I told Reagan before I stormed out of Wellbridge House.
“JT, when Castor suggested we come up with something eloquent for you to say, I’m pretty sure he was thinking of something a little more flowery than that,” he called from the doorway. “Maybe more like—”
I shut the door to my Porsche and reversed down the driveway, cutting off the rest of his advice.
I’d spent the entire evening pacing a path down the center of my mother’s expensive living room carpet. I was too frantic to think clearly. Too frantic to come up with any sort of plan. Too frantic to think about the best way to spin this or even present Flynn with a logical explanation, let alone some kind of flowery preplanned speech.
Turned out being a skilled negotiator—being a fucking Rainmaker—was impossible when you had your whole life and future on the line. All I knew was that my heart had removed itself from my chest against my will and was beating somewhere across town. I wasn’t going to feel whole again until Flynn and I were together.
Besides, space was what had gotten us into trouble in the first place. He could take his space and shove it.
After verifying that Flynn wasn’t in his house, I made my way to the locked front door of the Tavern and banged it with my fist until someone finally unlocked it.
It was Dan. The fucker.
“Where is he?” I asked without preamble. “Flynn’s not home. I already checked. And don’t even think about telling me to leave again because—”
“He’s not here.” Dan sounded tired. He stepped back and gestured for me to come in, which was… decent of him. “He took off after the last customer left and said he’d be back later to clean up. I figured I’d stay to do it for him since he’s been so slammed.”
Dan was doing a piss-poor job of being the villain I wanted to cast him as.
“Did he say where he was going?” I asked, grabbing a nearby chair to place on top of a table. I could tell Dan had been partway through the work when I’d shown up, and the least I could do to help Flynn—and Dan—was to help clean up while I interrogated him.