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Rhett: I miss you.
Rhett: I wish we were together right now but I’m dealing with Brooks and his lazy ass. He says hi.
Rhett: I love you.
Rhett: Had the need to tell you that again. Feels more real when I see it actually written out.
Rhett: I love you Willow Lancaster.
Rhett: I hope I’m not scaring the shit out of you. I probably am huh?
I’m laughing, all of these texts coming at me, one after the other. I send him a quick reply.
Me: You don’t scare me.
“Who keeps texting you?” Iris asks.
“It’s Rhett. He’s with Brooks, who says hi.”
The mischievous look that appears on my cousin’s face tells me she’s scheming. “They should come over.”
“It’s so late though.” My protest is weak. I definitely want them to come over.
“Please. It’s not that late. Tell him to come over and bring Brooks with him.”
Me: I love you too, Rhett Bennett. Want to come over?
He responds immediately.
Rhett: I’ll be there in less than five.
Me: Bring Brooks with you. This is Iris’s only request.
Rhett: Will do.
He sends me the saluting emoji and I sigh with happiness.
I love him. And he loves me.
So much.
CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE
Willow
Homecoming night
I stand just outside the auditorium by myself, taking deep, cleansing breaths. Reminding myself that I can do this alone. Walk into that room with my head held high and everyone’s eyes on me while the announcements are made. It’ll feel kind of weird doing it alone, and I’ll miss him, but it’s okay. The dance was already running late and they had to start it before the game was even over.
The roar from the stadium nearby makes me glance over my shoulder. I wish I was watching the game, but Iris’s dad—who is the interim headmaster after Westscott was fired, no freaking joke—gently told me I needed to make an appearance at the dance as part of the homecoming court. Even if my king is still out on that field playing in overtime.
I wish I was out there, cheering him on, but I’m sure he understands. We discussed the possibility of this happening earlier today. It’s like he knew he’d miss out.
“Hey.”
I turn to find Iris exiting the auditorium, the music blasting from within cut off completely when the door slams shut. She’s wearing a cute burgundy-lace, off-the-shoulder dress that clings to her like a second skin and black Valentino platform shoes on her feet, her hair falling around her face in loose blonde waves, and her lips painted the same color as the dress. She looks amazing.
“Are you ready?” she asks me when I still haven’t said anything.
