Outta nowhere, the guy manning the stage lets out a whoop and claps his hands together. “I’m told we’ve got a special treat in store for you all tonight. Our very own hometown songbird, Noah Lane is in the house!” I swivel toward the stage and spot Sage bounding back toward me with a grin on her face. There’s some hollering from the other bar patrons followed by a thunderous applause that nearly brings down the rafters.
“What did you do?” I raise a brow as she reaches me.
Leaning in, she encourages, “Thought it was time you reminded everyone why you’ll alwaysbe the star ofhisshow.”
“I’m not Rhett’s anything, Sage Everett.”
She aims a disbelieving stare in my direction. “So you keep saying. But I call bullshit. You said no safe words”—winking, she finishes—“so you don’t get to use them now.”
I suck in a breath and make my way through the crowd as my mind scrolls through a million and one songs. Decision made, I take the stairs two at a time before heading directly over to relay my choice. With my heart thundering, I grab the mic out of the stand.
“What’re you singin’ for us tonight, darlin’?” some middle-aged man over at the pool table catcalls. I shoot a flirty wink at him as the first strains of “Indifferent” byMegan Moroney filter through the speakers. Dampening my lips, I scan the crowd, wondering exactly how this is going to go down.
I’m hoping my choice of song delivers a firm fuck-off message to Brandy. I’m not putting up with her bullshit. Am I really indifferent? Probably not. But they don’t need to know that. Is this petty? Maybe. A slap at both of them? Definitely. But I’m hurt, even if I know I don’t have any real right to be. My mama always said you can’t help it when emotions overtake you, sometimes you have to feel whatever it is. And dammit, I can’t get the image of the two of them together out of my head.
My eyes flick to Brandy’s just as her lips part, and she shoots a curious glance at Rhett, no doubt checking for his reaction to this song that’s so very clearly about someone moving right the fuck on with their life. I don’t care what she thinks.
Rhett’s gaze connects to mine, unwavering. I’m unsure what message he’s trying to send me, but it doesn’t matter. Not really. He’s received the one I’m aiming at him, loud and clear. I allow my eyes to flicker shut for a moment so I don’t have to see the pain washing through his. I may have chosen myself… but he didn’t have to move on with someone I thought was my friend. With every note and every verse, I sink farther into the heartbreak, let it really take me.
I falter, my voice trailing off when Rhett standsabruptly from the booth and throws some cash on the table. The music continues on without me vocalizing the last few lines of the verse. Dark eyes cast a hard look in my direction. Rhett turns on the heel of his boot and storms for the front door.
Shaken, I blurt into the mic, “Titanic.”
NOAH
3
The mic clunksto the floor with a loud clatter and a jarring squeal of feedback. All eyes in the bar swing between Rhett and me as Black River’s golden boy stomps out of the door. Embarrassment pinkens my cheeks, and tears sting the back of my eyes. I fight not to let them fall. Chin dipping to my chest, I step off the stage and avoid the glares from the patrons. They want to say our theatrics have put a damper on their night? Let them. Ignoring their jeers, I push my way through the disgruntled crowd. I pass the booth full of Rhett’s family, and before Sage can grab me, I shake my head, catching her eye so she knows not to follow.
“It’s been three years, Noah. Let him go.” Brandy stands from the booth like she’s the one who should comfort him.
Sage grabs her arm. “Sit down and keep your nose outta their business.”
Brandy glares. “They aren’t anything to each other. He’s?—”
Cole inhales with an audible sniff. “Jace, there’s a whiff of desperation in here, do you smell it?”
“Yes, Cole. Yes I do.”
Although I feel some kind of way that the twins are on my side, I push past the table, overwhelmed by the wave of emotion that crashes down over me. Hurt, jealousy, regret… but most of all, white-hot rage.How dare Rhett make me feel like I did something wrong? He’spissed? Well, guess what, cowboy? I’m pissed, too. And that backstabbing so-called friend? She can fuck right off, and when she gets there, she can fuck off again.
I dash toward the door that’s just banged shut.Seriously?He’s going to storm out likeIdid something wrong? I’m not the one out here sticking my dick where it shouldn’t be. Of all the people he could have moved on with? He chose my fucking friend.
Leaving the blaring music and stale beer smell behind, I exit. Warm night air does nothing to cool my skin or calm the fire rippling through my bloodstream. I scan the row of trucks, knowing every cowboy and rodeo star in that damn bar owns one. But then, I spy a familiar hat over the top of a cab where Rhett’s about to pullopen the driver’s side door of the same sunburnt Chevy he’s been driving since high school.
I suck air into my lungs, and I can’t stop from marching toward him. The closer I get, the angrier I become. He hasn’t moved an inch, though, almost as if he senses me coming. I stop about six feet short of him with a sharp exhale. “Brandy? Brandy, Rhett? Are you fucking kidding me?”
“What do you care, Noah? Last I checked I’m free to fuck whoever I want. I’m not married.Not even engaged, am I?” He shakes his head, reaching for the door handle.
“’Spose not.” I throw a hand up and cringe as the diamond on my finger glitters under the glow of the neon lights.
His eyes close briefly as he turns, unable to even look at me. Under his breath, he hisses, “Nice ring. A bit gaudy for my taste. I preferred the one you left on my dresser.”
I clamp my hand on his shoulder, forcing him to meet my gaze again. “Fuck. You.”
In a move so swift I barely register my back hitting the truck door, I’m suddenly caged between his arms as he lowers his face in line with mine. His voice drops to a husky growl. “No, Noah, fuckyou.You don’t get to waltz back into town after you left like you did and tell mewhoI can or cannotdo.You lost that right the night you took off runnin’.”
“That’s rich, coming from you,” I spit. “I’m surprised the soles of your boots haven’t worn through with the way you ran outta that bar.” As he steps closer, completely into my space, the scent of bourbon, petrichor, and cedar surrounds me, too familiar, too much.
