Page 59 of Never the Best

My stomach dropped. Pearl’s secrets—her struggles, her pain—they weren’t mine to share. I would never, never betray her trust like that. But if she believed I had….

“I didn’t tell Josie,” I said firmly, meeting Luna’s glare head-on. “I swear to you, Luna. I didn’t.”

Her eyes searched mine, skeptical but wavering slightly. “Then how the hell did Josie talk about it?”

“I don’t know,” I admitted, my voice breaking slightly. “But it wasn’t me. I’d never do that to Pearl.”

Luna crossed her arms again, her anger still simmering but tempered now by uncertainty. “Well, Pearl doesn’t seem to believe that. She’s shattered, Rhett. She thinks youbetrayed her, and honestly, I can’t blame her for feeling that way.”

Pearl thought I’d taken the most vulnerable parts of her and handed them over to someone who’d use them as weapons.

I felt sick.

“Is she at home? Did she…where is she?” I asked, my voice quiet but urgent.

Luna shook her head. “No. I went by her place and knocked and knocked, and no one answered. And Hattie is out of town with Missy, so I couldn’t ask them, either. If you care about her—if you’re even half the man you’re trying to be—you’ll figure out a way to make this right.”

I nodded, my throat tight. “I will,” I said, more to myself than to Luna.

She gave me one last hard look before going back into Savannah Lace.

I all but ran to my car, my mind spinning. This morning, I had felt free. I had finally cut the strings that had been binding me to a life I didn’t want. I had been ready to move forward, to see if there was a chance for a real relationship with Pearl.

But now I feared that it was all destroyed before it could even begin. I didn’t know how Josie had found out about Pearl’s past, but I knew one thing for sure: Pearl thought I’d betrayed her, and that thought alone was enough to break me and probably her.

I had to fix this. Not because I wanted her to forgive me but because she deserved to know the truth. She deservedbetter than the pain she’d been dealt—not just by me, but by everyone who’d failed her.

I didn’t know where to start, but I knew one thing: I wasn’t going to let her face this alone. Not this time.

I had tried to call everyone I could think of at Hattie’s estate, and no one knew where Pearl was. Her car was by her cottage, but no one had seen her all weekend. My heart sank. Was Pearl alright? Was she hurt?

By the time I pulled up to Pearl’s cottage, I was having a full-blown panic attack. The pond shimmered in the bright light, and the air was heavy with the sticky heat of another unforgiving Savannah day.

I parked, climbed out of the car, and walked toward the cottage. I knocked and rang the doorbell, looking through all the windows, but I couldn’t see much because the blinds were closed. I tried all the doors, but they were locked.

I remembered, then, where she kept her spare key. I picked up the fake stone, found her key, and opened the door.

“Pearl?” I called out, stepping inside cautiously.

The cottage was quiet. No music, no TV, no sign of the Pearl I’d come to know over the past few months.

The first thing I noticed was the kitchen. An untouched glass of milk sat on the counter next to a plate of Kraft’s mac and cheese. The milk had curdled, and the mac and cheese was dry.

My chest tightened. This didn’t feel right.

“Pearl?” I called again, louder this time, moving deeper into the house.

I found her in the bedroom.

She was sitting on the floor, her back pressed against the side of the bed, her knees drawn tightly to her chest. Her arms wrapped around her legs like she was trying to hold herself together, and her head rested on her knees, her hair falling in a soft, tangled curtain that hid her face. She didn’t look up when I stepped inside.

“Pearl.” Her name came out softly, but my voice shook despite my effort to steady it. I knelt beside her, my hand hovering hesitantly near her shoulder. Relief had flooded me the moment I found her, but it evaporated the second I saw her like this—fragile, folded in on herself.

She didn’t respond, didn’t move. Her breathing was shallow, her shoulders rising and falling with a rhythm that felt off—too quick, too strained. Her skin looked pale, almost translucent, and there was a fine tremor running through her fingers where they gripped her knees.

“Pearl,” I tried again, softer this time, inching closer. “Hey, baby, it’s me.”

Her head tilted slightly, just enough for me to catch a glimpse of her face. Her cheeks were streaked with dried tears, and her eyes…God, her eyes. They were empty. Hollow. Like she wasn’t really here.

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