Beneath the Stars (Falling Stars #4) - A.L. Jackson Page 0,122
thought he might like what he saw in her eyes better.
Innocence.
Naivety.
Blamelessness.
Maybe having a little bit of it would take away some of his.
The blame.
The guilt that constricted so tight he couldn’t sleep at night.
His daddy ruined.
Rhys had been the one responsible for stamping out his father’s spirit beneath that tractor all those years ago. He might as well have finished him that day with all the livin’ that he’d done since.
Grief crested in a giant swell when he thought of it. What he’d put his parents through.
Turned out, he hadn’t been close to bein’ strong enough. Nothing but powerless to put a dent in his father’s depression.
His fault.
He knew it.
Owned it.
He scrounged up every last penny he earned to send to them. Trying to do his best to make a difference. To take care of them the way he’d promised, but it wasn’t enough.
Worst part?
He was the pathetic bastard who tried to run as far and as fast away from it as he could.
A coward who could barely face what he’d done. Staying away for longer and longer stints like it might eventually blot out the guilt and grief while the years only proved how much it’d grown.
Before he allowed himself to spiral, he sucked it down and pinned a booming smile on his face and climbed off the stage. He went saunterin’ her way.
She averted her gaze as he approached, her fidgeting getting greater, those eyes even more timid when she finally looked up at him.
“Hey, there, gorgeous. What are you doin’ out here by yourself?”
Shyness blazed from her body, and still, she said, “I guess I must have been lookin’ for you.”
“I shouldn’t be out here with you,” she whispered where they were hidden out behind the bar while the next band played. The energy emitted from the music seemed alive, thrashing around them, though theirs had been subdued a fraction by the brick walls that served as a barricade.
He was leaned against an old crate that had been tipped upside down with his legs stretched out long, sipping from a beer while he kept watching her, thinkin’ something this good had to be a hallucination.
Genny stood between his thighs. Close, but not quite close enough.
He eyed her from over the bottle. “Yeah. And why’s that? Tell me you don’t have a boyfriend.”
He meant it as a tease because there wasn’t a chance in the world this girl would be stepping out on her man.
He had a knack for readin’ people.
Knowing who was out for pleasure and who was out for gain.
This girl?
She was as blameless as they came.
Except a blush raced across her face. Hot and heated and ashamed. He eyed her harder when he saw her reaction. “Tell me you don’t actually have a boyfriend.”
He almost choked on it because shit…he was gonna be struck dumb if he’d pegged her wrong.
She laughed a hard, bitter sound, and she dropped her face.
Heart stretching his chest tight, he reached out and tucked his knuckle under her chin, lifting it to him.
He had the overwhelming urge to wrap her up tight when he saw a single tear slip down her face. Hold her and promise her he’d fix it, whatever it was.
“No, Rhys. I don’t have a boyfriend.”
A frown dented his brow. “Then what?”
She wavered and warred, and then she was spitting the words like they were poison. “I have a fiancé.”
What the actual lovin’ fuck?
She cringed again and swayed in some kinda dismay that had him drawing her closer rather than pushing her away like he should have been doing.
“He’s…he’s my father’s best friend’s son. It’s been assumed since we were babies that we were gonna get married. It’s been planned forever that I would marry Noah and he would take over my father’s company. The wedding is in three months, but I don’t…” Her face lit in that shyness. “I haven’t even….”
The girl couldn’t even say it.
“That’s ridiculous.”
“It’s still what’s required of me.”
“Tell me you’re jokin’,” he demanded. Anger rose in the middle of him. This protectiveness for a girl who clearly was being forced into something she hadn’t agreed to.
“Not jokin’. It’s what’s expected of me.” That time, she laughed, but it was dire and hollow.
She lifted her arms out to the sides. “For the first time in my life, I got brave and fought with my mama about it today. Told her she couldn’t make me. She told me to stop bein’ silly and to accept what I was born to do. That our family