Page 25 of Dirty Rock

What the hell is she doing here?

“Rhett,” Julia called again. It sounded like her head hit the door with a thud a second later.

Groaning, I covered the unused lines of coke on the bedside table with a magazine, and I made my way across the hotel room. I opened the door at a torturously slow pace before I peered through the small crack to see Julia standing there.

Damn, those brown eyes were sad again. Even though I was mad, my fingers itched to reach out and wipe that sorrow away. It was a weird thing to see someone who was usually so strong appear so broken.

“You gonna let me in?” she asked quietly.

“Not in the mood for another roasting, to be honest.”

“That’s not why I’m here.”

“Then you’re here to check up on me and make sure I’m not about to hit another strip club to cause more trouble.”

“No,” she whispered, shaking her head carefully. “Let me in, Rhett.”

Let me in, Rhett…

With a roll of my eyes, I stepped back and held the door open. She walked in, holding a bottle of Jack Daniels in one hand, and two crystal tumblers in the other. She held them up. “Peace offering.”

“Nothing says you’re sorry like granting me permission to get fucked up.”

“You don’t need my permission. You never have, and that’s the problem.”

I let go of the door with dramatic flair, my hand frozen in the air when it eventually hit the frame. “Ah, and so it begins. Jack Daniels might not be strong enough for this.”

Julia made her way to the small, round table by the window, and she took a seat in one of the two leather armchairs. She twisted the cap on the JD and began pouring.

“You going to stand around bitching like a little girl all night, or are you going to join me for a drink like a man?”

I cast a glance at the lines hiding under the shitty magazine before I groaned and walked over to take the other seat opposite Jules. We didn’t say anything for a while. She leaned back to relax, and I did the same, draping an ankle over my knee as I reached for my glass and took a sip of alcohol.

I studied her as she wrapped her plump little lips around her tumbler, her eyes focused on the alcohol inside the glass before she eventually dropped it back onto the table and glanced up at me.

My smirk rose.

“You love this, don’t you?” she asked quietly.

“Jack Daniels? Can’t beat it.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Oh, you mean I love watching you struggle with knowing you were wrong?”

She narrowed her eyes and smirked right back at me. Her cheekbones became prominent, and that little blush rose to the tips of each one.

It was fucking adorable.

She looked warm in this cold world I’d become trapped in.

“You may as well just say you’re sorry and get it out of the way, Jules. It won’t be as painful as it is to grind your teeth together and bite your tongue.”

“Would you apologise if you’d fucked up?”

“Depends.”

“On what?”

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