Page 55 of Deviant
“You good?” Colt asks.
I stare at the ceiling. “Yeah,” I say. And mean it. “I’m good.”
He lifts his head to look at me, and there’s something in his expression that I don’t have a name for yet—open, unguarded, the armor completely off—and I realize I’m looking at the real Colt Dawson for the first time.
I don’t get a chance to do anything with that information, though.
Headlights sweep across the bedroom window.
I’m upright, my heart going from settling to slamming in the span of a single second. And then I’m scrambling for my jeans on the floor, my shirt, my belt. Every movement is mechanical and desperate. And hands that were completely steady thirty seconds ago suddenly can’t manage a belt buckle.
“Rhett.” Colt’s voice is flat.
“That’s Aria’s car. That’s … they’re back early.”
“Rhett, slow down.”
“I need to—we need to look like—” I yank my shirt on. “Do you have beer? Get beers. TV. Turn on the TV.”
“Hey.” He grabs my arm. “Hey. Look at me.”
I look at him. He’s pulled his jeans on, and his expression is complicated—calm on the surface, but something sharp and unhappy underneath it.
“We have thirty seconds. Get the fucking beers.”
He holds my gaze for one moment longer than what’s comfortable, then lets go of my arm and goes to the kitchen. I carry the evidence of the last hour down the hall, in my hands, and drop onto the couch, grab the remote, find something on the television that doesn’t matter, and arrange myself into the posture of a man who has simply been watching TV on a Wednesday night.
Colt drops onto the far end of the couch and hands me a beer without looking at me. His jaw is set in a way I recognize and am going to have to deal with later.
The front door opens.
Aria comes in first, Matt behind her, both of them carrying the particular energy of people at the end of a long bar shift. Aria’s eyes move to the couch and land on me with a fraction of a second of surprise before her expression smooths.
“Rhett Thornwood,” she says, setting her bag down. “Didn’t know you were coming by.”
“Just hanging out,” I say. “Hope that’s alright.”
“Course it is.” She looks between us once, and I can’t read what she’s thinking. “Matt, I’m beat. Say good night.”
“Night, boys,” Matt says, already heading down the hall.
Aria follows him, then pauses at the hallway entrance, but doesn’t look back. “Don’t stay too late, Rhett. Early morning tomorrow.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Their bedroom door closes.
The television fills the silence with something neither of us is watching. I can feel Colt’s eyes on the side of my face, but I don’t turn to meet them. I take a pull from the beer, set it on the coffee table, then stand up.
“Rhett.”
“I should head out.”
“Sit down.”
“It’s late.”
“Sit. Down.”
