Page 81 of Wreck Me

If she’ll have me.

The memory of Rian’s opening night floods my mind. Scarlett on the dancefloor with Stenson. He could probably put his life in a backpack and travel the world with her. Up sticks and go wherever the wind carries them.

I have a lot in life. I could buy practically anything I want. Except that type of freedom. Not at this point in my life, anyway. With age, comes responsibility. Ten years isn't a huge age gap, but when it comes to life experience, I’ve had ten years extra to see and do the things she’s only dreamt of.

Unless, I find a way to show her the world, without giving up mine…

‘Alright, I won’t tell your mother.’ Dad’s stern tone brings me back to earth with a bang. ‘Just get that acquisition done, and we can worry about everything else afterwards.’

‘I’m on it.’ I hesitate for a second. ‘Thanks, Dad.’

‘Don’t thank me. I haven't done anything.’ He clears his throat. ‘I want you to be happy, son. I do. But if you’re serious about Scarlett, you’re going to have to spin this story very carefully.’

‘I know, Dad.’ I just need to make sure there’s a story to spin. As it stands, it’s an agreement with an expiry date.

I hang up, and open the thread of messages to Scarlett.

No reply still.

‘Where are you, angel?’ I stare at my screen before pulling up the CCTV cameras on my phone. The car isn't back yet. Where are they?

I open the tracking app. Having a brother who is a security freak is pretty handy at times like this. Though hisparanoia appears to be contagious given the panic swirling in my gut.

The car appears to be at the college campus. I glance at the Rolex on my wrist. It’s almost eight o’clock in Ireland.

What is she doing at college at this hour?

Of all the decisions I’ve made in my life, having those poles removed from the college gym was up there with the best.

Not fucking Scarlett the other night when she begged me is officially the worst.

I call Tim. He answers on the first ring.

‘Where is she?’ I pace the room, dragging my fingers through my hair hard enough to sting my scalp.

‘Miss Fitzgerald is in the college library, sir.’ The sound of male voices in the background does nothing to reassure me.

‘And what precisely is she doing in the college library at this hour of night?’ I growl. Did she even eat? Is she safe? Who is she with?

‘She’s studying with a– friend.’ Tim’s uncertainty radiates across the miles.

‘Which friend?’ It better not be that fucking study buddy, Shane Stenson.

The condition of our arrangement specified she was not to be seen with another man. Studying alone after hours with the college football captain, class president, and general golden boy (as I found out from Killian who investigated him for me after the incident in the nightclub) is not adhering to the terms.

But that’s not what has my blood boiling.

I don’t care about our stupid arrangement.

I care that she’s alone with him.

That he’s the one close enough to scent her exotic shampoo. To see the way her face lights when she figures out the answer to whatever question she’s working on. The way hertongue darts out over her lower lip when she’s puzzling over a problem.

Is he sitting next to her?

Leaning over her shoulder to see what she’s working on?

I bet he is. I know what college boys are like. Hell, I was one for long enough.

---