The Reality of Everything - Rebecca Yarros Page 0,32

embarrassed myself any further.

“Morgan, really, let me drive you. Please.” He reached for my arm, then thought better of it, pulling his hand back.

“I can do it myself,” I whispered as I pushed the lock button on the truck.

“I just want to help,” he said softly as I walked past him to where the Mini was parked.

“You did.” I slid into the driver’s seat and arched my neck as another wave of tension washed over me like an aftershock. I ran my hands over my steering wheel and sighed as my emotions lowered to a simmer. That was better.

“Who was he to you?” Jackson asked, looking down at me from the open door.

Every label I could put on what I had with Will felt too small, too pale in comparison to what we’d been, and what we could have evolved into, and yet too big for our lack of definition.

“Everything, and yet nothing.” I gave him the truth in the simplest terms I could, giving him the best perspective of me he could have and hiding nothing.

Hi. I’m Morgan. I’m a hot mess.

Jackson didn’t cringe, didn’t roll his eyes or slam the door. No, that would have made this easier—running away from him. Instead, he nodded. “Okay. I can understand that. Drive safe, okay? Maybe you can text me when you get there?” He stepped free of the door.

“I don’t have your number.” Before he could offer it to me, I swung the door shut. The engine roared to life as I turned the key, and then I backed out of the long drive once he was clear. He understood. Of course, he understood.

And that was exactly why I couldn’t let him drive me to the B&B.

Because back on that beach, I’d felt something. We’d connected.

I didn’t have anything to offer, and even if I did, I’d be damned if I was ever going to open up to a man who was in love with another woman. I would never make that mistake again.

Ever.

I was done being someone’s consolation prize.

“Damn you, Will. I think you ruined me.”

Chapter Six

Jackson

“Night, Daddy!” Fin called out for the sixth time since I’d kissed her good night about two minutes ago.

“Night, Fin.” I blew her a kiss but gave her the I’m-not-kidding look.

She giggled accordingly. I turned off her light and shut the door without any protest, so I called it a win.

With Fin tucked in, my mind took off racing as I walked downstairs, giving me every reason not to do this—telling me over and over not to violate Morgan’s privacy, reminding me that she hadn’t given me details for a reason.

I grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge.

Now, if only it had bubbles. And alcohol. And was beer. But I was on call, so water it was.

The weather had turned, which meant there was a good chance I’d get called in anyway. Hopefully, Morgan had made it to wherever she was staying, but it wasn’t like I could text her or anything. That would have required having her phone number.

Having her phone number made it something more than neighborly concern, not that I wouldn’t have given her mine if she hadn’t shut the door and raced away.

I snagged my iPad on the way to the couch, barely glancing at the sheets of rain pounding my deck, and already had the browser open before my conscience could get the best of me.

I had to know.

The second the sun had flashed on the silver wings pinned to the truck’s visor, I’d gotten a sick feeling in my stomach.

Basically, I’d been nauseated for the last five hours.

I tapped on the browser, and my keyboard appeared on the screen. Don’t do it.

I should have waited for her to tell me. Should have been that patient, good guy she thought I was, capable of sitting quietly while she healed enough to tell me what happened to her—to him.

But I’d already warned her that I was a selfish, careless asshole…and the asshole in me wanted to know. I wasn’t willing to wait.

Carter, William D. U.S. Army.

I typed the name I’d read on both the registration and the dog tags that hung from the rearview mirror and cursed as the results populated.

A guy in his midtwenties with wavy brown hair and brown eyes appeared on my screen in a series of pictures above a list of links. I bypassed the picture of him in uniform and clicked on the one where he smiled. It took me to a social