Page 120 of The Fine Line
I glance over my shoulder, still breathless, and whisper to Rhett, “Count to one hundred before you come out.”
I don’t dare look back again as I slip out of the lavatory and pull the door closed behind me.
“Hi!” I blurt out, far too loudly. Not casual in the slightest.
Dad’s gaze narrows slightly, a frown pulling at the corners of his mouth. I can tell he’s doing a mental scan—assessing my color, my posture, the state of my clothes. I smooth my shirt, push my hair behind both ears, and try to appear composed. Luckily, the physical remnants of a panic attack aren’t so different from the flushed disarray of… whatever that was.
“Everything okay?” he asks, his voice low but clipped.
I open my mouth to answer, but the bathroom door swings open behind me—not even close to a hundred seconds later—and Rhett steps out.
He does a double take when he sees us, clearly not expecting that we would still be standing here.
He clears his throat. “Excuse me, Coach,” he says, tonecareful but steady. “I was taking care of her.” A pause. “Or… trying to.”
The silence that follows is thick enough to choke on.
Dad turns to me, and it’s like a thousand unsaid things flash across his face before he settles on a blank stare.
I scramble to fill the space. “He was just trying to help,” I say quickly. “To calm me down. Get my mind off the storm…”
And he certainly did.
As my dad exhales slowly, Rhett shifts beside me. He adjusts the cuff of his sleeve, his fingers brushing over the silver number 19. His other hand drags across his mouth, like he’s trying to wipe the moment off him.
I flush crimson.
“Well,” Dad says finally, his gaze flicking between us. “Thank you, Rhett. I appreciate you being there for her.”
Rhett holds the look, then dips his chin. “Anytime, sir.”
Dad doesn’t respond. He just steps back into the aisle, and I follow—only to realize every set of eyes on the team is turned toward us. Wide-eyed. Unsubtle.
If they hadn’t believed we were the real deal on the flight to Toronto, they definitely do now.
twenty-eight
RHETT
Austin, TX, USA
I still don’t believe it.
“Are you ready?” I call out.
My phone buzzes in my hand.
Lauren: You in town? Let’s get together some time this week.
I swipe the notification away, along with the rest.
“Almost. One sec,” she replies from behind the door.
Three words.
I pocket my phone.
“Okay, sounds good.”
