Page 28 of Where the Blacktop Ends

“Saw her today.”

“How’s she holding up?”

I hesitate, recalling how watching my twin siblings’ birth taught me more than I could have imagined. Regan and Colt have always shared a bond I’ve never fully understood. When my dad was preoccupied with funeral arrangements for our mom—trying to manage a four-year-old wild child like Cash and a seven-year-old Lawson—Regan and Colt’s cries filled the air of our farmhouse.

In that chaos, I quickly learned that what the twins needed most was to be close to each other. For months, I did my best to comfort them, arranging their cribs side by side so they couldnuzzle against one another. Before long, they would drift off to sleep, the warmth of their connection soothing their restless little hearts.

It wasn’t until my aunt moved in to help with the babies that my role shifted slightly from secondary caregiver to big brother, but those quiet moments with Regan and Colt stayed with me. It was the reason why when Max’s mom left me as a single father, I wasn’t scared to take on the role. I felt like I'd done it before.

“She’s holding up. Misses you a lot.”

He scoffs and I notice the pain laced behind his eyes. Despite his tough resolve, he’s disappointed in Regan. And despite Regan’s love for Colt, she hasn’t been able to bring herself to visit him a single time since he’s been sent away.

The warden knocks on the door, interrupting that train of thought. “Time’s up,” he calls then moves to re-cuff Colt, positioning his hands behind his back before guiding him out the door.

“I’ll see you soon,” I call out.

He nods again, wordlessly, as he’s led away each step making me feel sicker to my stomach.

***

Four hours later, I’m back at the Charlotte airport, waiting to board my flight to New York City, arrival time about five in the evening.

After visiting Colt, I rushed home, said a quick goodbye to my siblings and dad, took the fastest shower of my life, and pulled on the white tux I’ll be wearing the second I land in NYC for the Hamptons party.

It’s the last thing I want to be doing right now. My mind is anywhere but on schmoozing with political figures andlobbyists, shaking hands and making promises just to secure their backing for my upcoming gubernatorial run in North Carolina. It feels unnatural and wrong to be sipping from fancy champagne glasses while my brother is behind bars. All I really want is to be home, wrapping my arms around Liam, burying my face in his sweet, soft hair, tickling him until he’s giggling too hard to fight sleep. Then I’d crawl into bed, sink into my overpriced silk sheets, and let the sound of the waves outside my window pull me under so deep I wouldn’t wake up until Sunday.

I sink into one of the uncomfortable, cracked leather seats at the Wingship terminal and pull out my phone while I wait for my group’s boarding to be called.

Three o’clock.

Georgia should’ve dropped Liam off with Eleanor by now for their weekend together. I can’t remember if she mentioned having plans of her own or if she’d be sticking around town. Between packing for this trip and prepping for my meeting with Colt’s lawyer, the details completely slipped my mind.

I drag a hand down my jaw, torn between trusting that she locked up the house and got Liam safely to Eleanor—and the nagging uncertainty that comes with not knowing her well enough to silence these racing thoughts.

With a sigh, I pull up my security app and check the windows and doors.

Secured.

Then I access the cameras, scanning the third floor for any signs of movement. Georgia’s bedroom door is sealed shut, so I move to the second floor.

Nothing.

Finally, I end on the first floor and that’s when I spot her.

Completely naked.

She’s seated on one of my velvet kitchen chairs, her elbows resting on the table as she devours what looks like is a messy, Italian sandwich.

I shouldn’t be staring but I can’t look away. My jaw drops. I shut off the video fast, heat rushing to my face—like I just intruded on something meant to be private.

What the hell is she doing?

I rub my temples, feeling completely out of my depth with this woman.

If it isn’t her sitting on me in the men’s steam room of the country club, it’s her eating a sandwich naked in my home.

She really enjoys being naked.

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