Chapter Twenty-Six

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Renn

“Why can’t anyone answer their fucking phones?” As I try Tate again, Foxx’s name flashes across the dash. I click a button on my steering wheel. “Talk to me, Foxx. What’s going on?”

My heart pounds, aching for Blakely. I need to get to her. Need to see her. I need to hold my wife and ensure she’s okay—that she knows I love her.

“We’re sitting on the tarmac at the airport,” he says.

“ What ?”

“I know you’re going to be pissed, Renn. But it was me taking her on your family’s plane or watching her call a car service and fly domestic.”

“You couldn’t stop her?”

He laughs. “Yeah. I could’ve. But you don’t pay me enough for that.”

I want to smile. I want to see the humor in it. I just can’t.

“We’re going to Vegas,” he says. “I have—”

“Vegas! Why the hell is she going to Vegas?”

“I have a doctor on board now, putting her hand in a soft cast. She has a boxer’s fracture, I think. Someone needs to show her how to punch.”

“You really think that’s a good idea?”

“Fair point.”

I sigh. What the fuck is going on? Why is she going to Vegas ? “She’s okay, right? It’s just her hand?”

“Physically, she’s fine.”

My heart breaks. “Can I talk to her?”

“She’s with the doc. I think she talked to Brock and Ella on the way here and then turned it off.”

“I’ll come to the airport and fly out with her.”

He groans. “Look, I’m no relationship expert. But experience tells me she probably needs to process tonight.”

This is not what I want to hear. I want him to tell me to hurry. That they’ll wait. That she wants to see me, and I need to hustle to the airport. But no.

Fuck. Fuck my fucking father. Fuck the fucking Royals .

Just … fuck.

“Will you stay with her?” I ask. “Don’t let her out of your sight.”

“Got it.”

“And thanks, Foxx, for taking care of her.” When I didn’t .

I should’ve left with her. I should’ve cared for her and said to hell with my dad. But if I had done that, God knows what Ripley would’ve done. I had to stand up for my wife.

Let Dad know hell is coming his way.

I’ve known he’s an asshole for years, but this … I cannot get over this.

My jaw pulses at the thought.

I can’t deny I was glad to see Mom put the bastard in his place. My stomach clenches. What if Dad had hit Blakely or Mom?

Thank God Ripley was there.

“It’s no problem,” Foxx says. “My phone will be on if you need anything or want to check on her. I think the doc is giving her a little pain medicine so she might be drowsy afterward.”

I nod. “Okay. I have some things to do tomorrow, but I’ll check in.”

“You got it. Talk later.”

“Goodbye.”

I fly up my street and slide into my driveway. Tate’s car sits off to the side. I’m happy to see Tate at my house for the first time ever.

The garage door lifts, and I pull in. But before I get out, I take out my phone.

Me: I’m worried about you. I know you want space, and I understand. I can’t imagine how you feel, and it kills me that I don’t know. I’m trying to balance honoring your wishes and following my heart. I need to hold you. Please, call me.

***

Blakely

“I’m so tired,” I say, shuffling inside the suite.

Foxx carries my bag and the llama behind me. “Where do you want these?”

“I’ll get them.”

“With a cast on your right hand?”

“Fine. Please take them upstairs.”

He disappears up the staircase without another word.

It’s odd being here. The last time I was here, it ended with chaos. The last time I arrived here, I wasn’t married. I was celebrating my thirtieth birthday. Such a shitty birthday, after all.

It seems like forever ago.

The suite is silent and cold. I don’t even know where the thermostat is to adjust it. Instead, I walk into the kitchen to see if there’s something edible.

“Foxx?” I call out. “Where did all of this food come from?”

The fridge has a few yogurts, a little fruit, milk, and cheese. There are a few choices of water, soda, and juice. Bread, cookies, and crackers have been placed in the pantry.

He comes around the corner. “Tate had Astrid take care of it.”

“Aw.” My heart warms. “He seems like a nice guy.”

Foxx shrugs.

“What’s that about?”

“What’s what?”

“That shrug. What does that shrug mean?”

He lifts a brow. “I think your pain meds are making you mean.”

“No, I’m not just mean. I’m stressed, Foxx. I’ve had a night. I’m tired. I’ve been traveling. I’m not sure my husband wants to be married to me anymore, and his father tried to buy me off, and … ah !”

He holds his hands up. “Easy.”

“Just explain the shrug.”

“I have an NDA.”

“And I’m your employer now, basically. So NDA me in.”

He groans. “You are a pain in my ass.”

I gasp. “Is that any way to talk to me? I’m on the verge of a nervous breakdown. Where is your compassion?”

“On the tarmac.”

I make a face. He almost smiles.

“I have four brothers,” Foxx says. “I have a predisposition to dislike younger brothers.”

“Then why do you dislike me?”

“Because I also have a sister.”

“Oh.”

I take out the cheese and a few crackers—anything to keep my mind occupied. Foxx watches me. It’s the most uncertain I’ve seen him.

“How do you know the Brewers?” I ask.

“I’ve known Jason for a long time.”

“But you work with Renn?”

“Mostly.”

I glance at him. “You’re a man of few words.”

He shrugs.

Grrr.

“Well, I’m trying to have a conversation with you to keep from thinking about my father-in-law talking about fucking my ass tonight. Humor me.” I slap a piece of cheese on a cracker and offer it to him. “Do you live in Nashville?”

He declines the snack. “Kismet Beach, Florida.”

“Then why are you here?”

“Because someone decided to take a last-minute trip to Vegas.”

I narrow my eyes. “Why are you in Nashville if you live in Florida?”

“Because I work for a company called Landry Security. I get assigned to wealthy clients who require my services.”

“Kind of sounds like you’re a prostitute, Foxx.”

He shakes his head. “Are you ready for bed?”

“Almost. Where do you sleep when you’re here?”

“There’s a room down the hall. I’m sure you’ll shout if you need me.”

I smile. “Yup.”

“I’m going to bed. Don’t drink any wine. You’re already loopy as fuck.”

“This is just my charm.”

“God help us,” he mutters, disappearing around the corner.

I gather my snacks—a task made more difficult by my broken hand—and head upstairs, trying to decide whether I’m loopy. I might be . My body is warm and fuzzy, and I can’t quite access all the reasons I’m upset.

It’s rather nice.

I climb into bed and drop the goodies. As soon as my body hits the mattress— how did this get cleaned? —my eyes feel heavy.

Very, very heavy.

I slip into a world where Renn is on a surfboard next to me, telling me to paddle …