Page 86 of Tennessee Trouble

Except, it’s not.

I bite down on the inside of my cheeks, trying to prove to myself that this really isn’t real. Only, it is. I feel my teeth on the sensitive skin, sending a minuscule jolt of pain to my brain.

Brandt also submitted a drink. And didn’t tell me.

I don’t actually know which is worse.

“It’s not what you think,” he defends, the statement firing so quickly it’s almost like he had it locked and loaded. Oh, wait—he probably did.

“Oh, if that’s all…” I snark, not bothering to hide my tone or the matching shrug of one shoulder.

A mix of emotions swirls inside my chest, like some gooey, slimy mixture a cartoon witch would brew in her cauldron. Each new one hits me with a swift punch straight to the gut, leaving me feeling nauseous and broken. Over and over again, my insides splintering more and more with each one, letting that sinking feeling ooze deeper and deeper inside. I don’t know whether I want to laugh or cry. Although, pretty sure right now either—or both—would only result in vomit.

I need fresh air.

Pushing past Brandt, I make a beeline out of the room, unsure of where I’m going. Doesn’t really matter, because it’s not here. It’s not this little, tiny room where the walls are closing in on me.

“Lindee!” Brandt shouts behind me.

I don’t stop. I can’t. Instead, I continue to push past large groups, like I’m in some race against time. Out of the corner of my eye, I see big glass doors and I take a hard right toward them. The flaming orange lettering on the glass could glow in the dark it’s so bright, but I’m thankful for it. Thanks to such a proud color, there is no missing the exit to a patio. One not currently in use.

Thank God.

Bursting through the doors, I suck in the deepest breath I can of the warm air. The sun is high and bright and there is enough humidity in the air that you can feel it, but not enough to smother you. In any other moment, I’d appreciate this weather—and this beautiful view over the river—a lot more. After all, it’s not every day that you get unfettered access to the home of the Nashville Fury.

Nor is it every day that the man you just proposed a future with betrays you.

But you know…no biggie. Because it’s not what I think.

Said no one ever…

“Lindee.” Brandt comes through the door with the same exuberance I did, although a lot less anger. “Talk to me. Please.”

“Talk to you? About what?” I spit out the words like they are nails, hoping each one hurts him the same way I’m hurting right now.

Brandt takes a step closer to me, starting to answer, but I cut him off. Because I’m not really sure I want to hear it.

“Oh, you mean about your drink? The one you also entered into the contest? The one you completely failed to mention to me?”

“Yes. Because it’s⁠—”

“Right, it’s not what I think.”

There’s no missing the snark and sarcasm in my tone. We both know that line is bullshit. And I am not here for it.

If Brandt Rawlins thinks he can sweet-talk his way out of this one, he needs to think again. He should know me better than that. Then again…maybe that’s what this has all really been about.

“It’s not,” he continues to defend. “I entered that drink weeks ago. Months, actually. Before I ever came to Tennessee.”

“Oh, so I’m just supposed to believe then that it was all a total coincidence?”

There’s no such thing as coincidences, right? Pretty sure that’s what my grandfather would say.

“Yes.” He sighs, taking another step toward me. I don’t move, not sure that my cinderblock feet would move if I tried. “I didn’t plan any of this. I couldn’t have if I tried.”

“I don’t believe you.”

Brandt rocks back, as if my words were a wrecking ball hitting him square in the chest. I watch him, waiting for a reaction, his chest slowly moving up and down as he breathes in and out, clearly trying to find his own words.