Page 208 of The Fine Line
“Regardless,” I say, “that same night, everything happened with your parents, and then with you and me… Weeks went by. Months. I only got the offer last week, the day we left for Chicago. The morning I saw…”
“The text from Lauren,” Rhett sighs.
I nod. “I completely freaked out.”
“Which completely made sense,” he says.
My lips twist to the side. “Anyway… I would’ve talked to you about it. I wouldn’t have just left.”
The fire’s almost burned down to embers when he finally speaks again.
“There’s nothing to talk about,” Rhett says quietly, voice rough.
I turn my head, brows pulling together. “What?”
His eyes stay on the flames. “You have to take it. The job. You have to go.”
I shift, my heart thudding. “But…what about you?”
He lets out a soft breath, finally glancing my way. His lips twitch into something between a smile and a wince. “What about me?”
I press my lips together, my throat tight. “What about us?”
That’s when he looks at me fully—reaches out and gently tucks a piece of hair behind my ear, his fingertips trailing against my skin.
“Is there still an us?” he askssoftly.
I hold his gaze, the air thick between us, and I shake my head the slightest bit. “I don’t know. Is there?”
His thumb brushes the corner of my jaw. “Do you want there to be?”
I swallow, my stomach flipping. “Are you sure you want there to be?”
His mouth quirks, almost incredulous. “Cub… do you really need to ask me that?”
I look down, blinking. “I don’t know. Just—” I gesture vaguely. “All things considered.”
He tilts his head. “What things?”
I huff out a breath, giving him the barest smirk. “I’m a little high maintenance.”
His brows lift. “Is that so?”
“I can be overbearing.”
He chuckles under his breath. “Debatable.”
“And…” I glance up at him through my lashes. “I’m also kind of a bitch.”
He laughs fully this time, the sound soft and warm. Then he shifts closer, cupping my face in both hands, his thumbs brushing my cheeks.
“You’re not a bitch,” he murmurs, voice low and steady. “You’re just sure of yourself. Which is more than most people can say. You’re not overbearing. You’re passionate. And, baby—anyone who ever called you high maintenance was just lazy.”
I stare at him, the words sinking deep. My throat tightens. My eyes sting.
“Rhett?” I whisper.
“Yeah?” His eyes soften, locked on mine.
