Page 49 of Orphan Girl's Mountain Men

"I'm not sure. He's not answering his phone, and it's pretty late."

"Yeah." I glance at the clock. It's past two a.m. "Is it… um, is it unusual for him?"

"To disappear at night? Not really," Dean says. "But he always takes his phone. Anything can happen on those roads, and a phone call is the only way I know he's not lying in a ditch somewhere. The phone's not off, but he's not answering. That's what worries me."

"Maybe he doesn't want to talk." I hesitate, then decide to come clean. "We had… sort of an argument when he was here. I think that might have something to do with it."

Dean raises an eyebrow, and I blush, suddenly unsure what to say.

"You turned him down?"

I nod. "Yeah. And I kind of… let him believe I had feelings for you." His eyebrows shoot up, and my face burns even hotter as I rush to explain. "Not that I do—but he assumed, and I didn't correct him. I figured it was the easiest way to make sure he didn't think there was still a chance between us."

Dean's eyes stay locked on me, his fathomless gaze prickling across my skin like a thousand tiny needles. I can't find my voice—my chest is tight, my breath ragged—and finally, he coughs, breaking the silence.

The phone rings, saving us both. Dean reaches into his pocket to answer it, and only when he looks away do I manage to exhale and fan myself, trying to calm the heat building inside me.

"Hello?" he says.

I can't hear what the person on the other end of the line is saying, but I can see the tension tightening in Dean's face. His jaw clenches, deep lines forming on his forehead.

"Alright, I'm on my way," he says flatly, then hangs up and glares at the phone like it personally offended him.

"Well, that solves the mystery."

"What do you mean?"

"He's in jail."

My eyes widen. "Huh?"

"Apparently he got himself into some kind of bar fight," Dean says, rubbing a hand over his face, weariness dragging at his features. "This is the last fucking thing I needed tonight."

"I'll go with you." The words are out before I can think better of them.

Dean raises an eyebrow. "You sure that's a good idea?"

He has a point. If Reed had got into a fight because of me, me showing up at Dean’s side probably won't help matters.

"Probably not," I admit. My concern for Reed pushes me to go, but this isn't about what I want, it's about what he needs.

Dean nods. "I'll let you know what happens."

"Yeah, please keep me in the loop." He nods again and heads off.

Sleep is impossible. I lie there, staring at the ceiling, wondering how Reed ended up in a bar fight and whether he got hurt. The longer I stew, the more irritated I get. Who gets into a fight simply because they were rejected? I didn't think Reed was the type to lose his temper that easily.

I don't sleep, but I keep an eye on the window and an ear out for Dean's truck. When it finally pulls in, just before dawn, I bolt from bed and hurry toward the kitchen—the same direction they're headed. We arrive at the same time, from different doors.

Reed sees me first. He gives me a crooked smile, despite the big shiner blooming across his left eye.

"What happened?" I ask, reaching out to touch the bruise. He winces slightly at my fingers. "What did you get into a fight about?"

Dean snorts. "Oh, he'll tell you it wasn't about a girl, but it was."

"Nuh-uh," Reed says, scowling. "That's not what happened. Some woman was flirting with me and I wasn't interested, so she got her asshole brothers to jump me. I held my own—but the cops saw the damage and decided I must've started it."

Dean crosses his arms. "You realize they could've been armed? Or come at you with something worse next time?"

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