She scoffs softly. “Are you sure? Everyone always wants something.”
“Even your family?”
Rayne’s brow dips, and finally, I get a glimpse of the real pain simmering just beneath the surface. “I’m just a rich bitch to them. No one back there really gives a shit about me beyond my inheritance and the reputation attached to my name.”
“Rayne…” I shift up the bed slightly. “I promise you, while you’re here, the only thing we want from you, the only thing we require, is your honesty. Nothing else.”
16
NICK
For years, the habit has been three. Three bowls, three forks, three glasses. Now it’s four, and while it throws off my rhythm when it comes to the washing up, there’s something satisfying about that number.
I place each cup back into the carefully crafted cupboard where they belong just as Archer returns from deeper in the cabin, and his brow is pulled down low.
“What’s wrong?” It was a loaded question since Archer usually responds to me with grunts and noises. All these years we’ve been friends, and he still prefers to lock up his feelings. Some habits are impossible to break, it seems.
“Rayne.” Archer continues through to the lounge area while Frankie is neck-deep in the Christmas decoration box. I follow after quickly drying my hands.
“What do you mean,Rayne?” I ask. “Did something happen? Is she okay?”
I’d been concerned the moment she hurried out of the kitchen, but when Archer didn’t immediately return, I’d assumed they’d fallen into some deep discussion.
“What’s wrong with Rayne?” Frankie glances up from a nest of tangled Christmas lights.
“Nothing,” Archer says, dodging several tree ornaments to get to the other side of Frankie. “And everything.”
“Brother, I’m too tired to decrypt you tonight.” I sit next to Frankie.
Archer rolls his eyes. “You don’t think she seems… strange?”
“Strange how?” Frankie glances up once more.
“Just…” Archer presses his lips into a thin line. “Strange isn’t the right word. She seems so sweet. And you know me. Usually, I can’t stand that shit, but one look from her and I feel like I want to rip my damn chest open so she can see I’m not a threat.”
His comparison is odd, but I understand him completely. “Did she say something to you that tilted your world off its axis?”
“Sort of.” Archer drops down onto one of the chairs and accepts an end of the lights from Frankie. “She’s a ‘rich bitch’. Her words, not mine. She says her family only cares about what she’s going to do with her inheritance and all that family name bullshit.”
“But?” I prompt, eager to find the meat of Archer’s thought process.
“She ain’t like any rich fuck I ever met. She’s more like you, Frankie.”
Frankie pauses his work and eyes Archer. “What, short and irritating?”
“No. A good soul. But there’s something…” Archer’s eyes lock onto mine. “Do you really think it was a good idea for us to tell people where she is?”
“Of course it is.” I nod quickly. “The last thing we need is some kidnapping charge or to look like we’ve kept her here against her will.”
“You saw what she was wearing,” Archer presses as his fingers become hooks for Frankie to weave the untangled lights.“She was running from something. And someone like that doesn’t run unless she has a damn good reason.”
Archer has a painfully good point. There was something ethereal about seeing Rayne in the snow, draped in a beautiful ball gown that likely cost more than either of us has ever seen in our lives. She’d driven so far, so fast, and when she woke up, I got the distinct impression that she didn’t even realize it.
“I like her,” Frankie says. “She’s fun. And she’s always smiling. So maybe whatever she was running from doesn’t affect her here.”
“Which means she left it behind.” Archer grunts as he straightens up. “It feels like a bad idea to send her back.”
“We have no choice,” I try to reason gently. “She can’t stay with us forever. Even if she stayed here all winter through her own choice, we all eventually have to go back down the mountain. Whatever she’s running from will still be there.” My chest constricts slightly as I sigh. “Just like it is for all of us.”