I wake up to discover I’m sitting in the reclined passenger seat of Rhett’s car, a soft, gray fuzzy blanket draped over my lower half. I move my fingers, realizing my arms are under the blanket, and I wonder where it came from.

I also wonder why I care so much about the stupid blanket.

Closing my eyes, I slowly open them again, trying to bring everything back into focus, but it’s so dark. Last I remember, the sky was still light, though the sun was fading fast. How much time has passed? What happened to me? How did I get into Rhett’s car?

Maybe I should ask him and find out.

“What’s going on?” I ask, my voice hoarse. I clear my throat and rise up on my elbows, glancing around. His car is so nice, so expensive. The seats are real leather and butter-soft, while I’m a cheap imitation of a person.

“Oh, hey. You’re awake.” He smiles over at me, then flicks his chin toward the center console. “There’s a bottle of water in there. Hope you don’t mind that I took it out of your bag. And if you want to lift the seat up, there’s a button you can hit on the base of the seat on the right side.”

I do as he suggests, raising the seat so I’m sitting upright like a normal person. My throat is dry—it’s like I can’t stop trying to clear it—so I reach for the bottle of water and crack it open, taking a long swallow. My head feels so heavy, it hurts. And I still can’t figure out how I got into this car.

A weird thought enters my brain and lingers. What if Rhett—did something to me while I was out?

No. He would never do that. Ever.

“Thank you for the water. And for rescuing me,” I finally say, hating how my voice cracks.

He shoots me a quick look, his gaze full of concern. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m okay.” I shrug, then wince. “My head hurts.”

“You almost cracked it on the sidewalk.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, you fainted, but I caught you before you hit the ground.”

“I don’t remember doing that,” I whisper.

“That’s because you were out before I caught you.”

“Oh.” I don’t know what to say or how to explain myself. Instead, I take another sip of water and stare out the passenger-side window.

“Have you been sick? Maybe that’s why you fainted?” Rhett asks. I hear the concern in his voice, and I want to tell him I don’t deserve it.

“I’ve fainted before.” My father told me my mother used to faint sometimes too. Maybe it runs in the family. “Usually I faint because I’m tired or hungry. Or stressed.” Yeah definitely stressed.

“Maybe you fainted because you’re worried about your grandma.”

I close my eyes and press my forehead against the window, the cold glass relieving my heated embarrassment. I’m so tired of the lies. Tired of pretending. “My grandma’s fine,” I croak.

“What?” He sounds incredulous.

Sitting up, I turn to look at him. “I don’t even think I have a grandma. Not one that I know, at least.”

“Wait a minute.” He shakes his head. “Are you telling me you made that all up?”

“Yeah.” I turn my head so I don’t have to look at him when I say, “I did.”

He swings the car to the right so suddenly, my shoulder rams into the door, and I yelp in pain. We’re in an empty parking lot and he pulls the car into a slot, throwing it into park before he turns and faces me. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“I made it up. My grandma being sick. There’s no grandma in my life.” There’s no one in my life. Period.

“You lied to me, then.” The disgust in his voice is obvious. Of course he’s disgusted. I’m not who I say I am. I’m using him. I’m a whore who fucked him on Friday night and almost let another man fuck me again on Saturday. I don’t deserve his kindness, or his help.

Lifting my chin, I keep my gaze on his. “I did.”

Rhett blows out a harsh breath and looks away, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. “Where were you planning on going anyway?”

“Back home.”

“Where’s home?”

I keep my gaze averted. “I don’t want to tell you.”

He punches the steering wheel, making me flinch and cower away from him, and the pure misery that crosses his face as he studies me almost makes me feel bad for reacting that way.

But not really. His violent outburst is a good reminder that they’re all the same. Even the so-called good ones.

“I should go,” I say after a few minutes tick by and no one’s talking. I grab my tote and sling it over my shoulder. “Where’s my suitcase?”

“In the trunk,” Rhett mutters as he leans over and hits the button to open it.

Without a word, I climb out of the car and go to the back, opening the trunk and pulling my ratty old suitcase out. Rhett’s suddenly there too, trying to take the suitcase away from me, but I jerk the handle out of his hold.

“There’s no way I’m going to leave you here,” he starts, but I hold up my hand, silencing him.

“Yes, you are. I don’t need a ride from you.”

“Jens. You’re being ridiculous.” He thrusts his fingers through his dark hair, messing it up. God, he’s so good-looking. I can admit it now. He’s gorgeous. And I like him. Though I shouldn’t. He’d only disappoint me in the end.

Looks like I already disappointed him.

“Let me take you wherever you need to go.” He hesitates, then seems to go for it. “I wanted to bring you back to my house. You can stay there for as long as you want. I have a guest bed—”

I cut him off. “No.” I shake my head. Press my lips together.

Another ragged sigh leaves him, and this time he does get hold of my suitcase, jerking the handle away from me and then tossing it back into the trunk. “Get in the car,” he says quietly.

“Rhett—”

“Get in the goddamn car.” He slams the trunk shut and stalks around the side of the car, climbing back into the driver’s seat. I follow his lead, slipping into the passenger side and closing the door behind me.

“Take me to the bus station,” I tell him quietly.

“Jensen…” He sighs my name, the frustration and longing so obvious in his voice. I’m making him crazy. And I would continue to make him crazy if I stuck around.

Not in a good way either.

“Please, Rhett.” I pause, swallowing past the lump in my throat. “I can’t stay here. I just…I can’t.”

Without another word, he puts the car in reverse and backs out of the parking spot. We’re silent for the entire drive, and I can’t even look at him. He hates me. I can feel the anger emanating from him in palpable waves, and I wrap my arms around myself, trying to ward off the sudden chill in the air. His stony silence is agonizing. I’d rather deal with him angry and ranting, calling me names and getting physical with me.

But his total withdrawal, the stiff way he holds himself, how it’s like he’s become so disinterested in me…it’s painful.

Rhett pulls into the bus depot and I’m exiting the car the second he puts it into park. He helps me get my suitcase and hands the heavy tote bag over to me, which I grab and sling over my shoulder.

“Unblock my number and let me know you made it home okay,” he demands.

“Sure.” I shrug. Like I’m really going to text him.

“You’re lying again,” he says flatly.

I sigh and shake my head. “I think it’s probably best if we cut off all communication. Don’t you?”

He shoves his hands into the pockets of his jeans, glaring at me. It’s almost like he’s in shock, and he doesn’t know how to feel about me, or how to react. I’ve confused the hell out of him with my lies and confessions, and I bet he’s wondering why he was interested in me in the first place. Worse, he’s probably full of regret over us having sex, and him bringing me those flowers…

The flowers. Where are they? Not that I can take them with me on the bus, but what did he do with them? Are they still in his car? I wish he would’ve given them to me a few days ago. I wish I could’ve enjoyed them longer. At the very least, I wish I took a photo of them so I could keep it on my phone forever.

But wishes are for fools, and while yes, I can admit I’ve been a giant fool lately, I don’t have time for wishes or hopes or dreams. That’s all a bunch of bullshit. I need to move on.

I need to leave this town—and Rhett—and never come back.

“I should go.” I hitch the tote bag’s strap up higher on my shoulder. “I need to go buy my bus ticket.”

“Yeah. Good luck.” He turns and walks toward his car, and this time, I let him go. I watch his retreating back, my gaze fixed on him as he climbs into the car, starts it, and pulls away from the curb.

My vision gets blurry, sending me into panic mode, and I realize quick it’s because I’m crying.

Blinking rapidly, I grab my suitcase and enter the bus station. It’s quiet, only a few people are sitting on the benches in the lobby, and I go to the desk, ready to purchase my ticket back home.

The lady is nice as she tries to help me find the cheapest route, and all I can do is smile and tell her thank you through the tears. I think she feels bad for me.

I feel bad for me, too.

“Will that be cash or charge, hon?”

“Cash.” I dig through my tote, searching for the ugly flowered cosmetics bag, but I can’t seem to find it. Frowning, I pull everything out of the tote, item by item. My snacks, the bottles of water, my crappy wallet that has maybe twenty bucks inside yet no credit cards, my phone, my actual cosmetics bag full of makeup, and all the other crap that’s rolling around in there.

But there’s no bag of money.

It’s fucking gone.

“Shit,” I mutter as I prop my elbows on the counter and rest my head in my hands. Where did it go? Did it fall out of my bag and in Rhett’s car? Or did it fall out when I fainted in Rhett’s arms? For all I know it could be lying in the gutter right in front of my crappy rental, ripe for the picking.

A wave of nausea washes over me, and I swallow hard. That was so much money, at least to me. How could I have lost it?

“Everything okay?” the ticket clerk asks.

I shake my head as I start shoving all my stuff back into my tote bag. “I don’t have enough money to pay for the ticket.” My voice is shaking and I’m going to start full on balling soon, I swear.

“Aw, honey. Are you sure?” Her kindness is going to break me.

“Yeah. It’s okay, though. I’ll be fine.” I sniff. “I’m gonna call my friend, see if I can get some help.” Feeling numb, I head outside, dragging my suitcase behind me, and I settle on the bench right in front of the station. I cry for a little bit, letting my sadness consume me.

What the hell am I going to do now?

Wiping at my eyes, I glance up to find Rhett’s car sitting in front of the bus station. I blink a couple of times, like maybe I’m dreaming this, but nope. His car is still there.

I can’t believe it.

He rolls down the passenger side window, his expression contrite when his gaze meets mine. My jaw drops open as we stare at each other. I can’t believe he came back for me. Me. Everyone leaves. They don’t care about me. They never did.

Rhett cares. I don’t understand why, but he does.

We keep watching each other for what feels like forever, and then he’s climbing out of the car and I’m running toward him, abandoning my suitcase like an idiot. We meet each other on the sidewalk and he pulls me into his arms, his mouth at my ear as he squeezes me tight.

“Come home with me, Jens,” he whispers and I nod, too choked up to actually answer him.