Page 72 of The One
I nodded. “She rented an apartment in West Hollywood.”
“Damn, she really is back,” Rowan voiced.
“How do you know that?” Ridge asked.
“I ran into her the night of Brady’s bachelor party,” I told them, avoiding Ridge’s question.
“Hold on a second.” Rowan leaned forward onto her thighs. “You left the strip club and just randomly ran into her?”
My teeth ground together. “Yes.” I glanced down at my lap. “She stumbled upon me. I was over on Murphy Drive … asleep.” I let out a loud exhale and faced them.
“Murphy Drive …oh.” Ridge exchanged a look with Rowan, the two of them knowing the spot I was referring to.
“You were asleep?” Rowan was careful with the way she asked her question.
Because this was territory they knew I wasn’t comfortable speaking about.
A layer that they never got me to discuss.
All they got out of me was a nod.
“How did it go when you saw her?” Rowan asked. “Did you get a chance to talk to her?”
How did it go?
That was a memory I’d been replaying in my head since it’d happened.
The details on fucking repeat, a continuous loop that wouldn’t let up.
“You mean, did she throw her arms around me and tell me how much she missed me?” The anger was bubbling in my goddamn chest. “Hell no. It went the way you’d imagine. She didn’t want to talk to me.”
“I just thought?—”
“That after all this time, she’d have a change of heart?” I shot back as Rowan tried to justify her reply. “No. Quite the opposite.”
“Rhett …” Her voice was so soft, her head shaking.
“Have you seen her again?” Ridge asked.
I rubbed my hands over the top of the desk. “No.”
“Then, how do you know she moved into an apartment in West Hollywood?” Rowan asked.
I had a feeling that question was going to come back around.
“Oh shit, don’t even tell me you’re having Trista follow her and that’s what she’s been up to?” Ridge paused, reading my face. “Rhett fucking Cole, what is wrong with you?”
“Everything,” I replied. “Fucking everything.”
“What are you going to do with the information that Trista’s collecting?” Ridge asked.
My phone vibrated from my desk, a text from Trista on the screen.
Trista
She’s at a high school, walking the track outside.
Me
