Page 92 of Devious Temptation
To sayI’m pissed is an understatement.
With Lucy taking my car, Rhys leaving me stranded, and my phone in pieces, I have no choice but to walk to the neighbors and ask for a ride.
Since it’s a small town—and a Sunday—nowhere is open. Not a car rental or a phone store.
I had to convince the neighbor to drive me a few towns over, where I find a random personal truck rental from a website that looks suspicious. It takes hours.
I don’t see my car in the guest parking lot of Lucy’s building but go inside and try knocking on her door anyway. After a few minutes of silence, I let myself in with my key, only to find it exactly the same way we left it before we went to the lake house.
“Shit,” I mutter under my breath. If she isn’t here, it probably means she’s at her parents’ place. I have no clue how I’m supposed to show up there and try to talk to her without tipping anyone off to the nature of our discussion.
It takes another hour to get home, but I'm thankfulRiver isn’t here and won’t have to witness any more arguing between Rhys and me. My cheek throbs as I walk into the house. My son clocked me good, but I guess I deserve it.
I’ve gone and fucked all of this up for everyone.
The late afternoon light seeps through the windows, illuminating the fact that there are no shoes next to the door, and after I check the garage, I realize Rhys isn’t here. Since my phone is unusable, I power up my office computer and check for the nearest phone store that’s open. Rhys can’t have gone far. I can drive around and look for him, and then I’ll get a new phone before going to Lucy’s—give myself some time to think about how I’m going to play this all out.
The proverbial cat is out of the bag now. We might as well come clean to everyone.
By the timeI search for Rhys and get a replacement phone, it’s nearing dark when I return home. Kicking my shoes off, I tread through the dark house, wrinkling my nose at a foul smell as I plug my new phone in and set it on the kitchen island.
It definitely didn’t smell like this when I was here earlier.
I follow the smell to my office, where a splintering of wood litters the floor in the hall. Alarmed, I push the door open to find the entire room trashed. Books and bindersand bric-a-brac are strewn across the floor, surrounded by smashed ceramic and puddles of whiskey.
“What the fuck?”
The glow from my computer screen illuminates a pile of puke in the middle of my desk. The stench is so strong it makes me gag.
There’s solely one explanation for the destruction of the only place in this house that was truly mine.
Rhys.
“Rhys?” I call out, storming down the hall to the basement. His truck wasn’t in the driveway, but I didn’t recheck the garage. Maybe he’s passed out in his room.
But the basement is dark, and the air smells stale like no one has been down here in ages. Rhys’ door is shut. I know I shouldn’t encroach on his space, but I open it anyway to see his bed is exactly how he left it before he went back to Mississippi. There’s no sign of him anywhere—except all over my office.
Regret and concern tighten my chest. If Rhys is drunk and driving around…
Panic settles in as I hear the new phone go off upstairs—a barrage of dings, one after the other, to indicate multiple incoming texts. I take the stairs two at a time as a call comes in. Fear races through my veins as I hope it’s not someone about to tell me my son was in an accident.
A little relief dilutes the anxiety when I see it’s Jules’ name flashing across the caller ID.
“Hey, now isn’t a good time,” I greet in a rush.
“No shit, it isn’t. What the fuck, Lawson?!”
I’ve never heard her sound so worried, and my brows draw together. “What the hell did I do?”
Another beep disrupts whatever she’s about to say, and I pull the phone away to see Cameron calling. “Hold on, Cam is calling. I’m merging the calls.”
Might as well tell both of them about the shit that went down this morning.
As it connects, Cam’s angry voice mixes with Jules’ as they talk over one another to the point where I can’t understand either of them. “Will both of you shut the fuck up and tell me what you’re going on about?”
“I’m going to assume you got hacked. Have you not checked your email? Upper management is pissed. They’ve had a flood of calls from HR for the last hour,” Jules says in a calmer—though still stressed—tone.
“No, I haven’t checked my email. Rhys showed up at the lake house, and I stupidly sent Lucy off to dinner with him, where he told her he thought Charlotte and I were getting back together. She’s pissed at me and took off with my car.” I put them on speaker and pull up my email app. “Then he overheard me yelling at Charlotte this morning and put two and two together. He knows about Lucy and me now.”
