Page 188 of The Fine Line
“Well,” she says. “Thank you for the time, Rhett. Good luck tonight.”
The camera light blinks off. She lowers the microphone, still looking at me.
But I’m not looking back. I’m already turning. Already walking.
My fists clench on their own. My chest tightens with every step. My head grows heavier. The sound of the arena blurs, static roaring in my ears until it’s all just noise.
Too loud to think.
I barely register the hand on my arm until it tugs me back.
“Rhett?”
forty-six
CAROLINE
“Rhett?”
I yank his arm hard enough that he’s forced to spin around and face me. The last thing I want right now is to speak to him—but after everything he’s already put me through in private, I won’t let him tear me down in public too.
“What the hell was that?” I snap.
For a second, he just stares at me—blank, expressionless. But then he blinks, his brows pulling together as he leans in close. His voice is rough, shredded.
“I don’t know, Caroline. What the hell arewe?”
I pull back. “What?”
“You agreed to give me a chance,” he says, his breath sharp. “You were the one who was all about the rules. All about honesty.”
My mouth falls open. “Yeah. Exactly.”
“And yet here we are,” he scoffs, bitter.
I blink hard. “I’m sorry—am I going insane? Are you actually mad atmeright now?”
He opens his mouth to respond, but Bryan’s voice crackles in my ear, pulling me sideways.
“Caroline, warmups start in two minutes. Let us know when you’re in position.”
“Copy,” I reply automatically, then turn back to Rhett, whose eyes look wild. Unhinged. Desperate. I barely recognize him.
“I don’t have time for this,” I tell him. “Neither of us do. We’re both supposed to be out there in two. Maybe you’ll get hit in the head with a puck and knock some sense into yourself.”
I move to walk away, but his voice stops me.
“Do you?”
I turn back. “What?”
His eyes darken. “Do you really need to be out there?” His tongue presses against his cheek as his gaze drags down and then back up me. “I mean, do you even work here anymore?”
My spine stiffens. “What are you talking about?”
“You work for the Titans now, don’t you?” His tone is flat. Lethal. “You’re moving to New York.”
I stare at him, stunned. “How do you?—?”
