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“Get a grip,” I growl to myself, fists clenching and unclenching at my sides. I can't do this here, not now. Not when every fiber of my being screams to take her, to lose myself in the sweet pleasure I know she’ll give.
With the decision made, I snatch the keys from my desk and storm out of the office, bypassing the curious gazes of my employees. They know better than to ask questions—no one wants to wind up fired like Daniel. I trust Vice will keep things going in my absence.
The crisp night air hits me like a slap as I step outside, but it does little to calm the heat that rages within. I stride across the parking lot, gravel crunching under my boots, the sound harsh and familiar.
Unlocking my car, I slide behind the wheel onto the expensive leather. With a turn of the key, the engine roars to life. I glance once at the neon-lit entrance of the bar, half expecting, half hoping, to see her standing in the doorway.
But there's only a bouncer, the night, and the road ahead.
I throw the car into gear. Tires squeal as I tear away from the curb, the city lights blurring into streaks of color as I drive into the darkness.
The road to the farm stretches out before me, the lanes empty and the freedom inviting. Each mile puts distance between Isla and me, each passing second a chance for me to rebuild some of my control. But it's a false sense of control. She's under my skin, in my blood, an ache that won't be eased by miles or time.
Tonight, I'll find comfort in the countryside with the people I love. But tomorrow, I'll have to face the truth—I'm in too deep, and there's no turning back. Not anymore.
Chapter Sixteen
Isla
My phone buzzes in my pocket, an insistent vibration tickling my leg. I pull it out of my pocket, fingers slick with alcohol, my heart hammering in tune with the urgency of the incoming call. It's Rand, my brother, and after a ring and a half, he hangs up.
Instead, a block of words come through in a text me message that thickens into a knot of dread in my gut.
Mom's sick. Really sick.
A cold sweep of panic brushes my skin. I need to see her. Now. The bar, with its friendly faces and flirty people, suddenly feels like the last place on earth I want to be. But Walker, my boss—the only one who could let me leave—is absent. I’d watched him walk out the door with a sense that he wasn’t coming back for a while. Which is good – after he cornered me like that… let’s just say I’ve never been that excited or hot in my entire life.
“Hey, Vice!” I call to the second-in-command, a hulking shadow washing dishes because the night has been so insanely busy. “I need to talk to you!”
Vice jerks his head, indicating he wants me to walk over, and I do. The memory of splashing ice water over him in the aftermath of his fight with Walker has me worried. Is he the type to hold a grudge?
“I have a family emergency,” I say, scared and breathless, the weight of fear heavy on my shoulders. “I need some time off.”
He stares for a heartbeat, his expression glacial, then his features soften, the lines of irritation smoothing away. “Go,” he says in a gruff tone, and I'm sprinting toward the break room to grab my things before he can change his mind.
The journey to my childhood home and the town I grew up in is a blur, the dark swallowing up any familiar sights, save the stretch of streetlights that were where I felt I could breathe when I left home after breaking up with Chase.
My mom had better be okay. I can’t handle more bad news.
When I finally step into the family home, the sight that greets me clenches my chest—Monique, my mom, wrapped in blankets on the couch, her once vibrant face now pale and gaunt.
“Hey, Mom,” I whisper, swallowing hard against the lump in my throat as I crouch before her.
“Baby,” she breathes, a smile curving the corners of her pale lips. The affection in her voice wraps around me like a hug.
“Are you comfortable?” I ask, studying her as she lies on her side, a pillow under her head, blankets covering her small form.
She nods, and I move to the kitchen, my movements robotic as I start making chicken noodle soup. She’d always made it for us growing up when we were sick, but somehow, the gesture doesn’t feel like enough.
When the food is done, I bring her a small bowl. I help her sit up, noticing how she’s shaking, and I help her with the bowl. But she only wants to sip just the broth and each swallow takes effort.
“I love you,” she says, reaching out to touch my cheek, and the dam inside me threatens to break.
“I love you, too.” The words feel thick in my mouth.
After she lays back down to rest, I make my way into the kitchen to wash dishes. I find Rand, who stands beside me, sleeves rolled up as he helps me. When he glances at me, his eyebrows drawn together in concern, I try to prepare myself.
“I heard about Chase,” he says, and I flinch at the name, my past with the town's golden boy another ache I don't need right now.
