Page 125 of Hard to Hold
Raising one hand over my head in a half-ass wave, I didn’t look back.
“Hey!” Wolfe’s deep baritone rang out behind me, but I continued out the door and into the warm evening air.
I had something important to take care of in the morning anyway. Might as well call it an early night.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Wolfe
What. The ever-loving. Fuck.
I set Amy aside when Rhys walked out the door without so much as a backward glance.
“Give me a minute,” I told her, then followed the sheriff out the door.
He was already climbing into his truck when he spotted me.
“What the fuck? Where you goin’?” I called out.
The son of a bitch had the nerve to shut his damn truck door. I had to wait for him to lower the fucking window.
“You got a curfew or somethin’?” I asked, scanning Rhys’s face to see if I could read him.
“Got an early mornin’ tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow’s Sunday,” I informed him.
“Some of us work on Sunday,” he said defensively.
I put my hand on the door and moved closer. “What the hell’s your deal?”
“Me?” Rhys’s expression hardened. “I’m goin’ home, Wolfe. What the fuck do you want me to do? Sit in the goddamn bar and stare at you and Amy from across the room? No fuckin’ thank you. I’ll pass. But happy fuckin’ birthday.”
I had no idea what had gotten into the man these past few days, but something was clearly bothering him. While I had tried to include him in any plans I'd made with Amy, Rhys had been coming up with one excuse after another.
Taking a deep breath, I considered all the things I wanted to say, but I opted to keep them to myself. I'd never been big on complications or drama, and I damn sure didn’t intend to start now.
“Fine,” I said with a sigh, releasing the door. “Later.”
Without a word, Rhys tore out of the parking lot, his tires kicking up gravel. I turned to see Amy standing near the door, watching me.
“Is he okay?”
I shrugged. “No fuckin’ clue.”
“What did he say?”
“Nothin’.”
Amy studied my face, concern forming a deep groove in her forehead. “Are you gonna go talk to him?”
“Fuck no.” Why the hell would I do that? If Rhys wanted to play childish games, he could do so alone.
When I reached for Amy’s hand, she pulled back.
“What the hell?” I stared down at her. “You’re gonna pull this shit, too?”
Amy flinched like I'd backhanded her. Of course, I then felt like an asshole. Which was probably fitting. But it was my birthday, for chrissakes. Where the fuck had the night gone wrong? And why tonight of all nights?
