Page 120 of Need You Now

Seth checks the living room, the kitchen, even his own bedroom. No Lacey.

Seth swears to himself, steps out farther into the hall, when a dark figure at one of the front windows catches his eye.

Seth pushes out the heavy double doors to find the last person on earth he wants to talk to. Beau. He’s leaning up against the wooden post beneath the awning, smoking a cigarette, his fiddle case in his hand. White clouds of smoke hover in the icy night air.

With a backward glance at Seth, Beau returns his stare to the gravel driveway. “Looks like you survived,” he quips, his voice a flat drawl.

Seth scowls, makes a move to go back inside.

Then he hesitates.

He may want to run the guy’s face into his fucking fiddle, but the least he can do is point him in the right direction.

Because Seth knows what it’s like. Being in the grip of something so tight, nothing can pull you out. Hiding it. Hurting everyone around him. Beau’s Seth. Ten years ago, minus the whole asshole part. And he knows what a difference it can make, someone offering help, making you listen, and in Sal’s case, not leaving his side until he was steady.

With a sigh, Seth turns back around. “Listen, man ... I don’t know what you think you’re doin’ actin’ like an asshole, but whatever it is, if you’re on somethin’, if you need help—”

A ragged laugh escapes Beau. He staggers around, his cocky posture from earlier flattened. The spark in his eye diminished. “Man, spare me the bullshit pity speech. You got what you wanted. Fair and square, right? I’m gone.” He tosses his cigarette, barely missing the tips of Seth’s boots. A dark sneer twists his face. “Fuck the Brothers Kincaid and fuck you.”

With that, Beau turns on his boot heel and heads into the night, the harsh wind whipping his dark hair as he cuts across the frozen grass for the guest house.

“Jesus,” Seth mutters, adrenaline hammering in his veins.

He tried.

Fuck Beau Dallas.

Now he’s got to find the one person who matters.

Lacey.

Lacey dips the plate in the sink full of bubbles and absentmindedly runs a washrag over it. She rinses and places it in the rack. The air hangs heavy with the scent of pine from the Christmas tree and tonight’s dinner. She had volunteered to do the dishes since she was MIA for most of dinner prep, having claimed a headache. Even though today was a shitshow, dinner was salvaged after opening a couple of bottles of wine. The men all doing their damnedest to behave.

She still hasn’t spoken to Seth. All night, she kept close to Sal. Her sister was like her shield, warding off Seth, his ridiculously hangdog blue eyes, and their impending conversation.

She sighs. She’s washed the same dish twice. She dries her hands on a towel and reaches for her wineglass, resisting the urge to chug it all down in one gulp.

No matter how much wine she drinks, she can’t get the image of Seth out of her head. Lying still on the ground, unmoving. Luke’s scream, the torment in his face an echo of hers.

Footsteps sound behind her.

Lacey steels herself, expecting Seth, but when she turns, it’s Sal. Her sister looks relaxed, changed into a gray velvet dress, her dark hair loose around her shoulders.

“How’s your headache?” Sal asks softly, crossing the kitchen. She sets her cell phone on the counter and leans back. Her eyes intently scouring Lacey’s face.

“It’s good. It’s gone now.”

“Are you sure, Lace? You were so quiet at dinner.”

Lacey flicks a soap bubble at Sal. “Stop worrying. I feel better. Really.”

“Okay ...,” Sal says like she doesn’t believe her. She places a hand on the moon of her stomach. “We’re all going to play pool downstairs.” A wry grin graces her face. “Not sure how I’ll reach the table, but you should come. Spot me.”

“I will.” Lacey picks up the rag. “I’ll finish up and meet you down there.” She attempts a weak smile. “These dishes won’t wash themselves.”

Sal squeezes her arm and heads out.

Lacey turns back to the sink, hot tears pricking her eyes. She was hoping it was Seth. Only he’s not here because she fucked it up by acting like an idiot earlier today.

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