I’d cloned Ruth’s phone a long while back, after the tornado. I’d done it with everyone’s phone—Reece and Charlie too. After Charlie’s bastard of an ex showed back up—then his best friend a week later, blustering and blowing smoke about foul play—well, I wasn’t going to take chances when it came to my family. Ruth was Charlie’s best friend, and Charlie was my brother’s girl, i.e., she was family. That was what I told myself, anyway.
But now I knew as I clicked on the button that tracked her phone and felt a bone-deep relief that I could see exactly where she was, it had always been more than that. I’d needed to know she was safe not because she was Charlie’s friend. I’d needed it for me. And good thing, too, because her little dot wasn’t flashing anywhere near the airport.
I zoomed in on the phone and frowned. Why the hell was she out near Five-Mile Dam? And then, just like that, the dot disappeared. The fuck?
I clicked the button for her phone again, but nothing.
An error message appeared when I clicked for more information. Error: Device has been turned off or lost signal.
“Dammit,” I said, throwing the truck into gear and peeling out.
Maybe she’d just decided to go take a rest at the Dam instead of coming back to the wedding after she’d taken Charlie’s parents to the airport? In the dark?
Maybe she was avoiding me.
But still, Five-Mile? It was a swimming hole in summer. There was nothing to do there this time of year. It wasn’t exactly a hiking spot.
Whatever. I’d get there and we could finally have it out, once and for all. I’d put all my cards on the table, or try to.
Reece’s words echoed in my head: You were always just as fucked up as me. Could I admit that to Ruth and explain that I needed her? That I wasn’t as perfect as I always pretended, even if it was hard for me to swallow my pride and fucking admit it. There were reasons I was the way I was and maybe someday I’d even be able to open up and talk about it…
In the meantime, I just shoved the truck into fifth gear and opened up the engine as I sped down the back streets of the hill country as the sunset streaked across the sky.
Twenty minutes later, the sun had dipped below the horizon and the pinks and oranges were settling into the purple haze of twilight as I pulled into the Five-Mile parking lot.
I drove from one end of the parking lot to another, my car lights on bright. But nowhere did I see Olivia’s little Honda.
Goddammit, I’d seen Ruth’s phone lighting up right near this spot less than half an hour ago. Where the hell was she?
Had I missed her on the road somewhere or had she already moved on? But when I pulled out my phone to see if I could catch her GPS dot, I couldn’t get any signal. “Fucking great,” I muttered, shoving my phone back onto its holder in the dash as I spun the truck around and pulled out of the driveway onto the backroads again. I drove a little ways down the stretch of road in the direction I hadn’t come from and slowed when I saw a vehicle pulled off and parked on a slight inlet a little way down from the dam.
I came to a stop and squinted at the car. It wasn’t Olivia’s car but it looked familiar. Then I caught sight of the gold naked woman emblem on the back of his mudflaps.
Holy shit. It was Buck’s car.
I was shoving out the door of my truck even as I tried to figure out what the hell Ruth would be doing out here in the middle of nowhere with Buck of all people. They never interacted that much, as far as I knew.
Then again, maybe she had really wanted to get back at me. Or wash me out of her system. The best way to get over one man was to get under another one, some bullshit like that.
One part of me knew I couldn’t blame her after everything I’d said and done, while another, less evolved part of me wanted to find Buck and leave him without any teeth for daring to touch what was mine.
Not knowing what I’d do once I found them together, I couldn’t stop myself from stomping forwards toward the SUV and yanking open the door.
Only to find no one inside. The raging bull in my chest was only slightly mollified. Because I realized a moment later that just because I hadn’t found them in flagrante in the car didn’t mean they weren’t curled up somewhere else cozy nearby.
I turned on my phone’s flashlight and looked around in the increasing darkness. At first, I didn’t see anything but the normal Texas scrub brush that lined the sides of all Central Texas sideroads… until in the distance, I glimpsed a small structure. A storage hut of some kind? An old bathroom for Five-Mile Dam Park before it had become the lost, forgotten place it was now until folks remembered it each summer when the water levels rose enough to make it of interest again?