“Sure thing.” He pulled out his phone, watching me with concerned eyes. “You need anything else? Water?”
“No. Thank you. Just the cab.”
I waited by the door, refusing to look outside to see if Dex was still there. Refusing to acknowledge the tears burning in my eyes or the way my chest felt like it was cracking open.
The cab arrived within ten minutes. Small town efficiency. I gave the driver Jasper’s address and slumped in the back seat, finally letting myself feel it all.
The humiliation. The rejection. The complete whiplash from that perfect connection to his absolute panic.
“What the hell just happened?” I whispered to the dark car interior.
The driver glanced in the rearview mirror. “You okay back there, miss?”
“Fine.” I pressed my hands to my face. “Just fine.”
But I wasn’t fine. I kept replaying it. The way he’d looked at me in the bar, the connection between us, the heat of his mouth on mine. And then the way his face had changed when I said the name Farrington. Like I’d triggered a bomb.
He knew them. My brothers. He knew them well enough that the idea of being with me had sent him into complete panic.
And he’d been going to call them. To come get me. To see me like this. Drunk and disheveled and evidence of what we’d almost done.
The humiliation burned fresh.
The cab pulled up to Jasper’s house, and I paid quickly, practically running up the driveway. The house was mostly dark. Mom and Jasper must have gone to bed. Good. I couldn’t face questions right now.
I crept upstairs as quietly as possible and locked myself in the guest room.
In the bathroom mirror, I looked exactly how I felt. Lipstick smeared, hair messed from his hands, cheeks flushed, eyes too bright. Evidence of what had almost happened. What I’d wanted to happen.
Evidence of how badly I’d misjudged everything.
Tomorrow I had to meet my brothers. The Farringtons. The men who were somehow important enough to Dex that the thought of sleeping with me had sent him running.
I didn’t even know who he was to them. Friend? Something else?
It didn’t matter. What mattered was that I had to face them tomorrow, pretend everything was fine, and try to fit into their lives.
While knowing that somewhere in this town was a man who’d made me feel seen and wanted and real for a few perfect hours, and then thrown it away the second he learned my name.
“Get it together, Leigh,” I told my reflection. “You have bigger things to worry about.”
But as I crawled into bed, still shaking with anger and hurt, all I could think about was the way he’d looked at me in that bar. The way he’d kissed me against that wall. The connection that had felt so real and right.
And the way his face had drained of color when I said my brothers’ names.
I couldn’t stop seeing it. Couldn’t stop feeling the rejection. Couldn’t stop being angry at him, at myself, at the whole situation. That he was one more person who had come to the same conclusion as everyone else. Maybe I was the problem. Maybe tomorrow was a mistake and I should just go back to Blue Point Bay and forget about the people here who accidentally shared some DNA with me. Forget about Dex and the fact that he was the first person who seemed to understand.
“Asshole,” I whispered into the darkness.
But underneath the anger was something worse.
Hurt.
Because for a few hours, I’d felt like I belonged somewhere. With someone.
And then it had all fallen apart.
Just like I’d been afraid it would.
