Tears burned behind my eyes. I felt for Georgina. I knew her pain all too well. Rhett was probably wrong about a romance between Georgina and Noah. She’d been dating Logan Tyler since freshman year. They were the forever type of couple. Or at least that was how they’d always seemed from afar.

“Earlier you said you lost someone,” Rhett whispered gently, making my heart instantly go numb inside my body. “That you were trying to get over someone and that you sought me out to help you feel better. I didn’t connect the dots before. But was that person Ben?”

I let out a gasp.

How had he figured that out? He wasn’t supposed to know that. Shit.

“Yes,” I said, because now tears were running from my eyes and I couldn’t even begin to control them. “Yes.”

He said nothing else. Only held me. He held me as I cried and until I finally drifted into some strange sort of half-sleep. When morning came, I had to get away. I left before he woke up. I didn’t have my car here, or even my panties, but I snuck out his front door and started walking.

Then, ultimately, I had to call John to come pick me up.

CHAPTER 8:

RHETT

The bed was empty. I woke up and she was gone. Motherfucking gone. At first I figured she must have gotten up to use the bathroom or to get something to eat from the kitchen. Logical conclusions, right? No need to assume the worst and/or panic. Calm your ass down¸ Rhett, I told myself. She wouldn’t have left without saying goodbye, without saying anything.

But she wasn’t in the bathroom or in the kitchen.

Her dress and her shoes were gone off the floor. There was no trace that she’d ever even been inside my house. I stood in the middle of my empty room, in complete disbelief. Her absence wasn’t sinking in. I wouldn’t let it.

Why?

Shit. Seriously, why?

My body felt disoriented and my mind dazed. There was no note or number left behind—nothing on my desk or anywhere. It finally hit me. She was really, truly gone.

Burying my face in my hands, I sank to the floor. I didn’t even know her damn name! Fuck, there had to be some logical explanation for this. We’d shared something powerful last night, a connection that I’d never in my life felt with another person, and she’d given up her virginity to me. Hell, I might even love this girl—my green-eyed girl.

But she was gone. And if that didn’t send a clear cut message, I didn’t know what did. I stood up from the floor, threw on whatever clothes I had laying around, grabbed my shoes and keys, and headed outside.

It was hot and muggy. I was heated. I was hurt. I was angry. So she’d fucking used me for sex, was that it? Was this completely about Ben and her grief, and nothing about me? I was just the town fuck-stick, only there for a good old-fashioned fucking whenever someone needed a go or to mend a broken heart. I wasn’t sure, but it sure felt that way. Cursing the world and my own lifelong poor choices, I hopped in my car and started the engine.

Thanks to the restaurant scheduling Gods, I didn’t have to work for the next few days. I had no idea where to start looking, but I had to find her. I might have had the worst reputation in the history of reputations, and maybe this was karma kicking me in the ass, but I needed to speak with her. Give her a chance to explain herself before I assumed the very worst.

I would find her. I would tell her how much I cared for her. I would make this right.

* * *

Only I didn’t find her. I spent the entire day, from ten in the morning until ten in the evening, driving from business to business around the Outer Banks. I asked every Tom, Dick, and Harry if they’d seen her or knew her. This was an impossible task when I didn’t even have her name. So I started looking for Kimberly Whittle or Cody Melbourne, the only two names I had in association with her. Turned out that Kimberly was now a teacher at Kill Devil Hills High School. But since it was summer time and school wasn’t in session, I couldn’t find her that way. The internet was completely useless, neither name had a number listed. So I had nothing. Absolutely nothing.

I’d started the day angry. Now, as I collapsed in my bed for the night, I only felt defeated. Crazy how everything in life can change so fast—from boring, to wonderful, to heart-breaking—all in the span of twenty-four hours.

Sleep, for once, came really easy that night. I guess that was what depression does to a person.

The next morning my tactic for finding Green Eyes changed. I decided Chancy’s Claw was where I needed to be. We’d met there. It was possible, if she wanted to be found, that she might return there. Chancy’s opened at ten. I was there at nine.

I parked my ass in the corner barstool, my spot, and I had no intentions of moving until someone made me move. Luce was working the bar for day shift. Thank God it was her and not one of the other girls. Some of them, most of them, really hated my guts.

“What happened to you?” were the first words out of her mouth.

“I need a drink,” I grunted. “My life sucks at the moment.”

“You look like the angel of death,” she informed me. She poured me shot of tequila. “Want to talk about it?”

“Not until I have a few more of these in me.” I tipped the shot back, swallowing down the liquid in one easy motion. It didn’t even burn.

Next she popped the top on a bottle of Budweiser and handed it over. Not my first choice, but at this point I would drink anything in front of me. “Don’t go too fast,” she warned. “You can be a lousy drunk and you know it, Rhett Morgan. I don’t want to deal with that today. Just go slow and when you’re ready to talk, I’m here.”

“You’re not mad about the other night?”

“Oh, when you ditched me in the middle of a shift? No. I’m already over it.”

She walked out of sight. There was lots to do when it came to prepping the bar. She let me be, and I let her work. Three hours and six beers later, the world still sucked. Green Eyes hadn’t shown. Today’s plan to find her had turned into a drinking marathon instead of an actual search.

“Fuck my life,” I mumbled and rested my head on the bar top.

“Hey,” came a cautious voice. It was Noah. He joined me for lunch sometimes, and suddenly he was standing next to me. If I was the ‘angel of death’ today he sure felt like the ‘angel of light.’ I nearly hugged him I was so relieved to see him.

“I’m glad you’re here,” I admitted. “I need your advice.”

“Okay?” Sitting down in the seat beside me, he nodded at Luce. She knew Noah as well as me, we were all friends, and she knew what he liked to order. She grabbed a pint glass and started filling it with one of Chancy’s craft beers.

“What’s going on?” Noah asked.

At this point I was too drunk to sugarcoat it. “I’m in motherfucking love,” I shouted.

Luce, overhearing and obviously shocked by my words, dropped Noah’s full glass of beer onto the bar top. It spilled everywhere, including on Noah’s shorts. The beer soaked him and on any other day I might have found the incident hilarious, but not today. Luce apologized, brought Noah some napkins, and then a replacement beer.

“What were you saying about love?” Noah asked as he gave up on his shorts and grabbed his beer instead. Luce didn’t linger. I guess she didn’t want to hear this.

“The blonde,” I explained to him. “The one who stayed over the night you chucked one of our glasses at the rat. I’m in love with her, but I don’t even know her name or how to find her. She used me for sex. Mercifully. And now she’s gone.”

It sounded really pathetic when I said the words out loud.