Page 69 of Hard to Hold
Just Rhys.
“Did you get my keys?” Reagan demanded.
He tossed them toward her. Reagan caught them.
“Thank you.” Her tone didn’t have a lot of sincerity, but I could tell she was grateful. “Damn it.”
“You need to leave for good this time,” Rhys told her.
I felt him move closer to my side and I welcomed his presence. I wasn’t sure when I'd gotten so comfortable with him, but I was.
“Trust me, I’m done.”
“Good.”
Reagan grabbed her suitcase and hefted it into the bed of the truck.
“Where’re you gonna stay?” Rhys asked his sister.
Reagan shrugged. “No clue.”
“You can stay in my guest room,” he offered.
I noticed the way her nose scrunched up. “Although I appreciate the offer, Sheriff, I think I’ll pass.” Her blue eyes reflected more humor than frustration. “I love you and all, but I damn sure don’t wanna live with you.”
“You could always go stay with Mom and Pawpaw. I’m sure they could use the help.”
“Yeah. And listen to Pawpaw tell me every day that I’ve fucked up my life. No thank you.”
I looked at Rhys, then Reagan. “I’ve … uh … got an extra bedroom.”
Reagan’s eyes widened. “Seriously?”
I nodded.
The next thing I knew, Reagan was throwing her arms around me, hugging me tight. “Thank you. Oh, my God. Thank you!”
She jumped back, practically skipping to her truck.
“Where’re you goin’?” Rhys asked.
“Work.” As though that made perfect sense. Reagan’s attention turned to me. “It’ll be late when I show up. You don’t mind, do you?”
I shook my head. “Of course not. Do you … uh … know where I live?”
“McKenzie Catlay’s old place, right?”
“Yeah.”
“I know where it is. I’ll shut the bar down a little early tonight.” Reagan’s smile was bright. “You’re a lifesaver, Amy. Thank you.”
Feeling as though I'd been hit by a tornado, I didn’t say anything more as Reagan backed out of the driveway, then tore out onto the road, leaving rubber on the asphalt behind her.
Rhys chuckled. “I hope you know what you’re in for.”
I seriously didn’t. But that was okay.
At least this way, I didn’t have to stay in my house alone.
