Total pages in book: 35
Estimated words: 34629 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 173(@200wpm)___ 139(@250wpm)___ 115(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 34629 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 173(@200wpm)___ 139(@250wpm)___ 115(@300wpm)
“What?” I spin to face him, and my chest rises and falls heavier than it should be.
I think I’m hyperventilating.
Cash’s eyes are sympathetic as he tilts his head. “Oh.” His voice is soft. “He is right, isn’t he? You have feelings for Thorne.”
“I don’t fucking know. But I do know he could be out there injured or fucking dead, and none of you are doing anything to help me find him.” Shit, tears fill my eyes. I try to blink them away but only more come.
And fuck.
Fucking fuck fuck.
I think I’m in love with Thorne.
I don’t know what to do with that.
“I can’t lose him,” I whisper.
“We’ll find him.” Cash is using his soothing voice—the one he uses when I get agitated by overeager fans thinking they’re welcome to our bodies without permission.
Cash handles the ass grabs and cock groping a hell of a lot better than I do, and he knows how to calm me down from making a scene.
The sound of a car pulling up outside reaches my ears, and my heart skips a beat.
I don’t even hesitate to rush outside. I’m preparing for the worst, like a patrol car coming to tell us they found a body or something as equally dramatic.
But no.
There’s Thorne, all blond and gorgeous stepping out of some random guy’s truck.
My chest fills with relief, and I want to run to him, throw my arms around him and hold him.
Then I see that he’s smiling, and all those good feelings about his return die. It’s freezing out here, and I don’t have shoes on, only socks. My long T-shirt does shit all to protect me from the cold, but all I feel is red, hot anger.
He gets closer, that carefree smile still on his face, and what the actual fuck?
I shove him. “Where were you? We were worried sick.” My voice cracks.
“Correction,” Cash says from the doorway. “Seb was worried sick.”
Thorne blinks at me, and his smile fades. “You were worried about me?”
“You’ve been gone for two hours! In this cold …” I let out a loud breath. “Where were you? Who dropped you off?”
“A friend.”
“We’re in the middle of Montana, and you made a friend?”
Thorne’s gaze darts behind me. “You made a friend and brought him along. Maybe you should be more worried about what he’s doing.”
I’m trying to decipher the look in his eyes as he flicks his attention back to me. His chin juts out in a defiant way, and he’s pulling that face he always does when he doesn’t want to give anything away.
I can’t get a good read on him. I’ve never been able to.
I try to search past his distracting blue eyes to see if what Andrew is saying could be real. If Thorne has any romantic feelings toward me at all. There’s nothing.
“You’re right.” I step back. “I should be worried about what he’s doing instead of you. Because that’s the way it works. I can’t be worried about my manager wandering off in the damn snow and disappearing just because I’m here with someone. You’re absolutely right.” I shiver, but I don’t know if it’s from my wet feet or from frustration.
“Let’s get you inside and out of the cold.” Thorne tries to take hold of my arm, but I pull away.
“Just, don’t disappear again.” I barrel past everyone watching and back into the house.
Only, now I don’t know where to go.
This whole storming off thing isn’t as effective if you don’t know which direction you’re going.
“Seb, wait,” Thorne says.
I turn and try to keep the flood of emotions from showing. Relief, anger, confusion … love? I don’t know what I’m feeling right now.
“I’m sorry,” he says. “I didn’t know you were worried about me or I would’ve had Mason call the house.”
“I knew it!” yells Andrew from behind us. “Can I go stalk him? Where is he? Oh my God, this is so cool. I’m staying in Mason Nash’s house?” He squees.
Thorne winces. “Now might be a good time to bring up the NDA with him.”
“Definitely.”
Especially with all the crap he’s spewing about Thorne and I having a thing for each other.
“Make it happen.” I storm away and head for Lemon’s and my room while Thorne deals with the awkward parts of fame.
As soon as I cross the threshold and close the door behind me, tears sting my eyes, and I don’t understand why.
Adrenaline flows through me, left over anger from Thorne worrying me half to death by disappearing and then turning up as if nothing was wrong.
And what the fuck is up with that shit about him not realizing I’d care? Of course I fucking care.
I pace the room, my feet still cold from running out in the snow in just my socks. Ugh, my socks. I reach down and get rid of them, flinging them wherever.