Page 20 of Without a Trace
Rhett
There are moments you remember, and then there are those that burn themselves into you.
This was the latter.
Scarlett in that black bikini, laughing as Kane fell off the rock trying to do a backflip, water sliding off her skin in worship. Blonde waves slicked back, eyes sharp, mouth smart. She wasn’t just pretty—she was fucking luminous.
And she didn’t even try.
She didn’t have to.
I floated on my back, beer half balanced on my stomach, clocking every goddamn look Trace and Alden threw her way. They thought they were subtle, they weren’t. And me? I kept my distance. Always have. Doesn’t mean I don’t see it—how she owns a room without even trying. But this story was never going to end with me. And I knew that from the start.
Alden tried to keep his distance, like maybe that gave him moral points. But his eyes never left her. Not for long.
And Trace? The second her shoulder brushed his in the water, his whole body tensed—caught between pulling her in or pushing her away.
Spoiler alert: he wanted both.
I cracked a grin, taking a slow sip of beer, letting the sun hit my face. “Y’all are so fucked,” I muttered to no one.
Because here’s the thing—Scarlett wasn’t just beautiful. She was the kind of woman you orbit. The kind you write songs about and lie awake over. The kind that haunts you years later.
And the worst part?
She didn’t even know it.
Kane was still trying to show off, kicking water in her direction and shouting. “C’mon, Monroe, bet you won’t race me to the edge!”
She laughed, flipped him off, and dove under.
And just like that, all four of us followed.
Not because we were racing.
Because we couldn’t look away.
She popped up at the far end, water dripping down her collarbone, pushing her hair out of her face with both hands.
“Winner,” she announced.
“Cheater,” Kane called back.
I swam over slower, giving her space.
“You good?” I asked.
She looked at me, that little flicker in her expression giving her away.
“I’m always good,” she said.
She was lying.
But I let it go.
Because I’d always be the one she could lie to, and still sit next to.
And maybe being the one she didn’t want was the closest I’d ever get.
