“We’re just friends.”
“You sure about that? Because you don’t sound very convincing.”
I grit my teeth, more at myself than at him. Rhett’s never been one for subtlety—guy approaches emotional topics with the finesse of a sledgehammer. He steps over a pile of charred wood, wipes his hands on his pants, and levels me with a look that’s half challenge, half pity.
“You hover over her like she’s made of glass.”
“I’m just looking out for her. Making sure she’s okay,” I mutter.
“Always looking out for her.”
I shoot him a glare, but he just smirks—because he’s not wrong.
“She trusts you, you know,” he adds. “More than most people.”
“Which is exactly why I’m not screwing anything up.” I crouch at the base of the wall, inspecting the wiring. “You know how much she’s got on her plate.”
Rhett snorts. “Oh, please. Don’t act like keeping quiet is some noble sacrifice. It’s you being scared.”
My jaw flexes. I thread a new length of wire through the conduit, mostly so I don’t accidentally punch the wall.
“She doesn’t see me that way.”
Rhett lets out a laugh that’s basically a bark. “Hayes, she looks at you like you’ve hung the goddamn moon. I’ve never seen her so much as glance at another man that way. The whole damn town knows that Emmy is your girl. Why do you think she’s single? Every guy in a fifty-mile radius is afraid to approach her because they’ve heard how feral you can be.”
“Really? Isthatwhy you asked her out two years ago?”
“Christ,” he hisses. “I didn’t ask her out. We were both going to the same Small Business Convention out of town. I offered for us to car pool. As friends. You wouldn’t be talking to me right now if I had actually asked her out and you know it.”
I grunt, refusing to give him the satisfaction of reacting.
“And that kitchen key?” he goes on, leaning against the counter. “The troll thing?”
I freeze. “What about it?”
“Buddy,” he says, pointing at me with a screwdriver, “you don’t hand someone the lucky charm you’ve carried since fire school unless you’re in deep.”
“It was sentimental,” I say, too quickly. “She gave it to me before I left.”
“Exactly.” Rhett shakes his head. “You carry it every day for over two decades because… friendship?”
I scrub a hand down my face. “You’re exhausting.”
He grins. “And you’re in denial.”
I tighten a wire nut a little too aggressively. “Drop it.”
Rhett studies me for a long beat, the sarcasm fading from his expression. “Look, man… I’m not trying to give you crap. I’m saying this because you act like Emmy is some ticking bomb you’re afraid to get too close to.”
I swallow hard. “She’s not a bomb.”
“Oh, I know.” He crosses his arms. “She’s the opposite. And that’s what scares you.”
I don’t answer. I don’t need to. My silence says everything.
Rhett sighs. “You’re not gonna lose her if you tell her.”
“You don’t know that.”
