Page 160 of Need You Now

Sal chuckles. “He adores you, Lacey. He’ll forgive you.”

Lacey doesn’t know about that.

She saw it on Seth’s face last night. She had hurt him. Horribly. While he was fighting for them, she was channeling that ice-cold chill that let her walk away from things she got too close to.

Anguish twists her heart. She should have talked with him about her fears instead of springing the news on him. She should have done a lot of things differently. He had left so abruptly, racing his Bronco out of the drive. She doesn’t even know where he is or what he’s doing. He left alone and hurt and angry. And she did that.

Sal’s soft voice rouses her. “Take it from me. It’s never too late.”

Lacey chews a nail. “I don’t know, Sal.”

“I’m selfish. I want you here in Nashville,” Sal says with a mischievous grin that soon sobers. “But Seth needs you. He loves you, Lacey.” Her sister floats her a smile. “Think about it.”

Sal stands, moving to the door as Lacey weighs the options—packing a bag or picking up the phone. Both have her chickening out all over again.

A harsh gasp cuts the silence of the room.

Lacey glances over her shoulder to see Sal gripping the doorknob tight. Her eyes slammed shut. Winston bounds off the bed.

Lacey’s brow lifts in suspicion. “Very funny, Sal.” She stands, balling up a shirt and tossing it into a suitcase. “Luke isn’t here. So take your jokes somewhere else.”

Suddenly, Sal doubles over, letting out a sharp cry. Her hands cradle the high swell of her belly.

Lacey hurries to Sal, panic turning her stomach. “Sal? What is it?”

Sal sags against the wall, lifting her wide-eyed gaze to Lacey.

But Lacey’s looking down.

“Oh no,” she whispers, horrified. The entire front of Sal’s dress is stained with blood. “No.”

Seth bypasses the bartender as she’s flipping the Tonk’s sign from Closed to Open. She arcs a brow, turning to watch him sit on a stool in the empty bar. “Early mornin’.”

“Bad mornin’,” Seth groans, leaning on his elbows to dip his face in his hands.

He slept like hell last night. After he left the farm, he drove around Nashville wanting to rip up the town, to wreck himself, but he decided that’s what got him in trouble in the first place. Instead, he went back to his apartment, cranked on his records as loud as they could go, screened every call from Luke, and passed out after his fifth glass of whiskey.

“Somethin’ I can get you?” the bartender asks, pushing a napkin square his way.

“A beer. Tomato juice.”

“You got it.” She moves down to the other side of the bar, flipping on the neon above the bar.

Seth swivels his eyes around the familiar surroundings. The cheap wood paneling, the neon lights, the corner jukebox. He’s a sick son of a bitch coming to Tonk’s. He considered it his and Lacey’s bar. But then again, it’s a fitting spot to mourn. To pour one out to whatever the fuck happened last night.

Even though it’s the last thing he wants to do.

The bartender drops the drinks, and he grips the beer tight. His knuckles wrapped white around the glass. He stares into the foamy liquid, wishing it had all the answers instead of just a bad headache waiting for him at the end of it.

But hell, he doesn’t need a crystal ball or a beer to tell him what went wrong.

He knows.

He went wrong.

Last night, he had been believing Lacey was done, thought she was saying she didn’t care for him. But now, in the clear light of morning, he’s seeing differently. Replaying that conversation over and over in his mind. And what she was really saying was that she scared for them.

She was getting out first before she got hurt.

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