Page 18 of Heart Sick Hate

“I promise, Dad. I’m fine.” I roll my shoulders back. “He got you a heart, remember? So if it helps Rhett to have me by his side, I’ll do it. I’ll do anything. Because they’re the reason I still have you. We owe them to not back out on our promises.”

“How are you two? Getting along at least?”

I shrug. “Rhett’s a friend. It’s not like we have to love each other to get married.”

“You should.”

“If this were a teenage girl’s fantasy, sure. But I don’t need that, Dad. I’ve got you still and that’s all that matters.”

He stops, turning to face me in the hallway.

“It’s not a fantasy to want to be happy.”

“I’m happy enough.” It’s the truth, anything is better than my childhood—than before Dad learned I existed. “And Rhett’s sweet. He’s a church boy, remember? He’ll treat me fine. This is all for the best.”

I force a smile and hope it reaches my eyes, while Dad tucks his hands in his pockets, looking uneasy.

“Promise you’ll tell me if you change your mind.”

“I won’t.”

“Promise me, Echo.”

Letting out a deep breath, I tip my head back and close my eyes. “Fine. I promise.”

I look back at him, knowing it’s already a lie. I don’t want to marry Rhett, even if it’s the right thing to do after all his family has done for us. But I won’t back out either.

“Thank you.” Dad’s gaze skims my face once more. “You feeling all right? You look a little pale.”

I tuck my thumbs in my black jeans and shrug. “It’s been a rough week, that’s all. I just need to chill.”

“Does this rough week have anything to do with Crew’s face?”

“How did you…?” My eyebrows scrunch.

“Rhett.”

I nod. It’s not like I was hiding the fact that I punched him, but even though it felt good to work out the aggression, I can’t help but feel a little guilty.

“He deserved it” is all I say as we continue down the hallway to the front of the house.

Admitting anything more gives too much away. I refuse to acknowledge that Crew has the uncanny ability to rile me up the way he does with a single comment.

“I’m sure he did.” Dad pauses at the edge of the foyer. “I’m grabbing some paperwork from the car really quick. Max wants to see the blueprints for the new church.”

Of course he does. Wouldn’t want to take the finger off the pulse of his investment.

Dad gives me a quick pat on the shoulder before disappearing out the door. The hollow sound of it closing behind him vibrates through the dark, cold walls. It’s no surprise the Kingsley brothers are twisted when they grew up in a house that feels less like a home the longer you spend in it.

Heading back down the hall to the dining room, a voice draws my attention from one of the many small sitting coves tucked off the hall.

“I’m sorry, baby, dinner’s running long.”

It’s Rhett’s voice, but it takes me a moment to put it together with the words coming out of his mouth.

Pressing against the wall, I glance around the corner, and Rhett is standing with his back to me as he runs his fingers over the old leather chair in the center. His face tips to the side just enough for me to catch the genuine smile stretching it.

“Promise I’ll be there as soon as I’m finished.” His voice drops an octave. “The red ones. And I want those legs spread waiting for me. I’ll know if you came before I get there. Don’t make me punish you.”

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