Page 66 of Eight Seconds to Fly

“Hello?”

“Tessa? It’s Caly. I, uh, just wanted to make sure you’d seen…”

“The massive headline calling me a whore? Yeah, I’ve seen it. Was it you?”

“Excuse me?”

Calypso was the only person I had told. And then two weeks later it was on the news? That was a little too much of a coincidence. “Did you tell the press that I was sleeping with the guys?”

Caly made a noise somewhere between a screech and a growl. “Girl, I know you're hurting so I’m going to let that one slide, but I would never, ever sell out a friend like that. And I like you, Tessa, so I’m going to consider you a friend even though you just insulted the shit out of me. To answer your question, no, I did not tell the press you had four boyfriends, even though I don’t think it's something you should be ashamed of.“ She lowered her voice until it was barely a whisper through the line. “But I might be able to help. Where are you staying this week?”

“Mesquite.”

She was silent for a long time. “Skip it and come to Vegas. Meet me at the Luxor tomorrow night. Bring your guys.”

I cleared my throat. “Dylan isn’t with me but the rest of us will meet you there.”

“Oh, Honey.” Calypso’s voice was filled with sympathy, and I was going to fucking break down into a heaving, sobbing mess. Again.

“It’s fine,” I choked out. “We’ll see you then.”

“Okay, Girl. You have my number. Just… don’t use your phone much until you meet up with me, okay?”

“Um, sure?”

With some pleasantries, I ended the call. “That was fucking weird.”

I repeated what Caly had said to Frankie, and he frowned. “Why shouldn’t we use our phones?”

I shrugged and went back to feeling miserable. Just what I needed, another problem to rub salt in the raw wound of my heart.

Despite what Calypso had said, we decided to spend at least one night in the hotel in Mesquite. It was a tiny town with barely any people, and the hotel was so quiet we were the only guests. There was a cloud of sadness, overlaid with barely restrained rage, that seemed to wrap around our group all through dinner at a divey little Mexican place and well into the night.

They surprised the hell out of me by all crawling into the one bed with me that night. Frankie and Branch on either side of me, Beau at the bottom of the bed, my feet on his chest as he rubbed the arches. It wasn’t sexual. It was comforting and even though my brain was whirling a million miles a second, I went off to sleep bracketed on all sides by their warmth and their strength.

The following morning I woke up less sad and more angry. How dare they fucking breach my privacy like that? How dare they shame me like this is the fucking eighteenth century and my only worth was how close to my virginity I was!

That rage had me slamming around in the bathroom and all the guys staying well and truly out of my way. I would just rant and rave, and they would all agree. Smart men.

When housekeeping knocked on the door to our room at 9:30, I was in fine form.

But it wasn’t housekeeping on the other side of the door. It was Dylan.

All the fire left me like I’d been doused. He looked terrible. His hair stuck up at odd angles and he looked like he hadn’t slept. He was in the same clothes, and they were rumpled. “Tessa…”

I swallowed hard, and opened my arms. The look of relief on his face was heartbreaking. He rushed into my arms and squeezed me tight, pulling back to pepper my face with kisses.

“I’m so fucking sorry that I’m such an idiot. So goddamn sorry. I love you. I know it's probably too soon to say that, but I was staring at the bottom of my tenth glass of whiskey and I asked myself what I was more miserable about? Losing my sponsor? Or the look of sadness on your face when I left? And the answer was so damn clear, Tessa. So damn clear. Fuck them. Let them pull my sponsorship. I’ll scrape by. I’ve got enough saved to pay the entrance fees. But I can’t do it without you.”

He kissed me with so much feeling, I felt tears track down my cheeks. He kissed away each one and then just hugged me to his chest like he could make us one person.

“It’s okay, Dylan. You had to work some shit out. It’s okay. I love you too.”

Branch made a rude noise. “I was giving you another day and then I was going to track you down and beat the smart back into you. You’re family now asshole. We’ve got you. Let the sponsors pull your contracts. We are for better or for worse.”

Gah. My heart. “One thing is for sure. Whoever wrote that article is not getting away with it. I’ll sue their asses for defamation of character. I know some good lawyers.” The firm that had handled my estate were friends of my father. They’d kick some serious stalker ass.

I dragged Dylan to the bathroom. We had half an hour to be out of here and on our way to Vegas, and I was personally going to show Dylan that he’d made the right decision.

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