Royal(27)

“Demi.” I move toward her and quickly veer out of the way when I watch her lift the golf club above her head.

Whack.

One swing, and there’s a sizeable dent in the whale tail of the Porsche.

“Hey, hey . . .” I reach for her arm, but she pulls the club away, taking another swing. And another. And another. “Demi, okay. Enough.”

In no way am I about to defend Brooks Abbott’s behavior, but I kind of feel bad for that pretty little Porsche taking the brunt. She was innocent in all of this.

Demi drags the flat, steel club head along the driver door, leaving a deep scratch. I can’t help but mentally calculate the number of man-hours it would take to buff and repaint that kind of damage.

“Satisfied?” I smirk when she’s all finished.

Her shoulders rise and fall as she catches her breath.

“Let’s get you inside, Shoeless Joe Jackson.” I wrap my arm around her shivering shoulders. I’m sure her feet are ice blocks now, but I doubt she feels a damn thing.

Demi stops and looks down, dropping the golf club. And then she buries her face in her hands.

“What am I doing?”

“Come on, don’t worry about it. It’s over. Let’s go in.” My palm rubs circles into her tense shoulder. “I’d have done the same thing.”

I’m lying. I’d never take shit out on a pretty little car like that, but I’m not about to make Demi feel worse.

Once inside, I escort her to a sofa next to a fireplace and get the flames going. I wrap her in a blanket the color of clouds and the texture of cashmere, and her shivering begins to subside.

“You had the right to know,” I say. “You’re by that asshole’s side every day, hoping and praying for a miracle, and . . .”

“I know.” She pulls the blanket closer to her face, staring ahead at a photo of the two of them on a side table. They’re smiling, her hand on his chest and her engagement ring glinting in the sun.

“You doing okay?”

Her eyes move slowly to mine, then back to the engagement photo. She leans forward, slams it face down, then sits back in her seat.

“I never suspected it. Not once.” She clears her throat, jaw tensed. “That’s what gets me. I’m sitting here, blaming myself for his leaving, thinking if I would’ve fought harder, maybe he wouldn’t be fighting for his life. And that asshole . . . that asshole was screwing someone else all this time? How did I not know?”

“He clearly didn’t want you to find out.”

“How’d you find out?” She looks my way, brows furrowed.

“I live in Glidden,” I say. “Saw him running around with a girl who was definitely not you.”

I won’t go into specifics with her.

“Wait. You live in Glidden?” Her eyes narrow.

I nod.

“For how long?”

I push a breath through whistling lips. “Shit. I don’t know. A few years?”

“So all this time, you’ve been living fifteen minutes away from me?”

My palm rubs my thigh. “Not the entire time, but yeah.”

Demi leans against the arm of the couch, her hand wrapped around her forehead. “I’m sorry. This is just a lot to process. Feels like an alternate universe or something.”

I know exactly how it feels to be coasting along and lose your footing the moment the rug is swept out.

The gas fireplace flickers against a fake wooden log, casting warm shades of amber and gold around us, and we sit in silence.

For a tiny sliver of a moment, I’m flooded with warmth, and it’s not from the fire. My chest fills, expanding, and the sensation runs through me, reaching my fingers and toes.

It’s a feeling I’ve only known in a lifetime that doesn’t exist anymore.

Home.

Being with Demi feels like home.





Chapter Thirteen




Royal



I wake with a stiff neck, the hint of a sunrise peeking through the picture window across the room. Demi’s fire’s still going strong and she’s out cold, her head on my shoulder.

Carefully maneuvering myself up, I prop her against some throw pillows and cover her feet with the rest of the blanket.

Half an hour later, I’m finished shoveling her driveway when she walks out to the front porch in a robe and slippers, a white mug of coffee in her hands.

“Thought you could use this.” She brings it to me and then re-wraps her robe and ties it tight.

I take a sip of the best damn coffee I’ve ever had as we stand and lock gazes.

“Sorry about last night. For freaking out.” Demi tucks her shivering fingers under her arms as the wind blows her robe open. “You must think I’m mental.”

My lips purse. “Nah. I don’t think that about you.”