[Ava]
The first thing I felt was a pain behind my eyes, a slow, steady pounding, like the loud music from last night still playing in my head. It pushed through every thought and woke me up more than any alarm ever could. Then I noticed the heat, heavy and suffocating, not from the sun, but from the blankets twisted tightly around my legs and waist. I stopped breathing for a second. My skin felt hot and uncovered.
I looked at the ceiling. It was a strange one, colored yellow by the morning light. Slowly, I began to understand where I was, the feeling of something heavy growing in my chest.
I was naked abd alone.
The bedsheets were wrapped around my body, like they were trying to hide what had happened—what I had done, what I had let happen. My mouth was dry, my lips were cracked, and my skin still felt warm from the night before.
I held the sheets tighter as the truth hit me. I had a one-night stand. With someone I didn't know. In my dad's friend's house?
My heart started beating fast, almost like it was angry. My stomach turned, not just from the hangover, but from the heavy feeling of regret sitting inside me like a rock.
And Rhett was nowhere to be found.
The thought hurt in a strange way. His side of the bed was empty, the shape where he'd slept now just a faint mark on the sheets, and in my memory. I stared at it, hoping it would explain something, but it only gave me silence. No note. No goodbye. Just gone. Like he was never really there. Like I hadn't let a stranger see parts of me no one had touched in years.
I curled up, burying my face in the pillow, and let out a quiet, shaky sound. How did I let it go this far? How did someone like me, careful, guarded, end up in a stranger, my walls down as easily as my clothes? I could still hear his soft, warm voice. Still feel his hands, his lips on my neck. I shut my eyes tight, wishing I could erase the night… or at least how it ended.
I pulled myself out of bed, pulling the sheet around me as I made my way to the bathroom. I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror, evidence of the destruction: smeared mascara under bloodshot eyes, lips puffy, hair a knotted mess of sweat and tangles. I didn't know myself at that moment, not physically. There was an emptiness, a sense of hollowness that follows mistakes. The kind you can't wash away with water or take away with aspirin.
A hot, scalding shower and I was dry, shrugging into the rumpled clothes from the night before, hoping quietly that I wouldn't see anyone as I crept downstairs. I just needed a space. Act like this never occurred. I wasn't up for facing him, even if he were still present. Which he wasn't. Clearly. Guys like Rhett didn't hang around. They didn't stick. They appeared, get free sex, and disappeared.
But when I stepped down from the last step, massaging my temple and squinting from the glare of the bar lobby's brightness, I bumped into something hard. Strong hands held me steady, warm and familiar. I stiffened.
"Whoa, easy there," a deep voice whispered, soothing and unmistakable.
I blinked hard and looked up. Rhett loomed in front of me, tall and unruffled, like everything was exactly the same. His eyes, those goddamn eyes, wrinkled just a little at the corners as he smiled, like he wasn't surprised at all to find me standing there, half-dead and hungover.
"You're still here?" I croaked, my voice scratchier than I'd anticipated. "I thought…"
"Excuse me? Thought I stood you up?" he said, his brow raised. There was no malice in his voice, only mirthful amusement. "I wouldn't do that."
"I just figured you'd gone. The bar's closed. It's morning."
He backed away a little, making space for me. "Well, yeah. I'm still here. I own the place."
I blinked. "What?"
"I own the bar," he said, like it was no big deal, dropping a bombshell in the midst of my embarassment. "Run it since my dad passed it down."
The world spun a bit. "Your dad?"
He nodded, then gave me a smile. "Harlan Maddox."
I froze. Air was expelled from my body.
"No. No, no, no," I felt myself swaying again and reached for the nearest counter to steady myself. "Your dad is Harlan Maddox."
"Yeah." He tilted his head, watching me. "Wait… Ava, you don't know me?"
I stared at him, speechless. He ran a hand through his hair, a flash of recognition dawning in his expression. "Damn. You're my dad's friend's daughter and you don't even know who I am?"
"Jesus Christ," I breathed, taking a step back as if he'd actually punched me. "I slept with my dad's best friend's son."
Rhett's lips curled, fighting a smile. "Yeah. Sounds so much worse when you say it like that."
My hand went over my mouth as I let out a shocked groan. "Oh my God. I'm going to die. This is… this is so embarrassing."
"You weren't that terrible." He grinned. "In fact, you were...."
"Stop. Don't even finish that sentence." I elbowed past him, burning shame spreading across my body. "I need to not be here right now."
Turning away from the stairs, turning away from him, I heard a voice in the distance down the hall....louder, smoother, with that careless sarcasm only a sibling could master.
"Well, well, Rhett. You didn't mention you had someone coming over. She's cute, even when she's hungover."
I tensed.
Rhett's reply was immediate, and sharp. "Lucian. Shut the hell up."
There was a laugh, deep and amused. "Relax, big brother. Just saying what we're all thinking."
I didn't look back. My ears felt hot, and my head couldn't handle any more embarrassment. I almost ran up the stairs and didn't even close the door when I reached the guest room. I fell onto the bed, face down, and screamed into the pillow. Why did it have to be him?
I just lay there in shock for a few minutes, trying to understand what I was feeling. I wasn't just embarrassed, I was angry. Confused. Embarrassed again. And deep down, I felt disappointed. I wanted to be mad at him, but he hadn't done anything wrong. Actually, he had been polite the whole time, kind, even. And that made it worse. He just did what I asked him to do.
A soft tap rattled against the doorframe, and then he spoke. "Ava?"
I sat up, sweeping my hair out of my face. "What?"
He entered slowly, holding a glass of lemon juice in one hand. "Thought this might help. You looked like you were gonna pass out down there."
I took the glass without looking at him. "Thanks."
He didn't move. He stood in the doorway, like he wanted to say something else.
"You okay?" he asked after a moment.
I blew out a breath, eyes still on the glass. "I don't know....I just…I feel....stupid."
"You weren't stupid."
I lifted my head. "I was drunk. I slept with you... without knowing anything about you."
His face relaxed. "It's not as if either one of us set this up."
"That doesn't help," I breathed.
"No," he said, gesturing. "But it doesn't hurt, either."
I hated the calm look on his face. Like this was just another crazy moment in life. But for me, everything felt upside down. Still, his eyes, quiet and hard to read, showed me that he wasn't completely okay either. He just knew how to hide it better than I did.
"I'll leave you alone," he said softly, moving back toward the hallway. "But for what it's worth, Ava, last night wasn't a mistake. At least not to me."
"Last night wasn't a mistake. At least not to me," My pussy throbbed at his confession.