Total pages in book: 191
Estimated words: 182070 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 910(@200wpm)___ 728(@250wpm)___ 607(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 182070 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 910(@200wpm)___ 728(@250wpm)___ 607(@300wpm)
The man who I’d assumed had spent the majority of his life laughing and smiling went stone-faced and pale in about half a second.
I needed to keep going.
“Boogie gave me your address and asked me to come look for you. I got here as soon as I could,” I explained, eyeing the arm that had been hanging loosely at his side and thinking about taking hold of his hand just like I had done to him countless times when I’d been little. Except now those fingers that I would have meshed through mine were million-dollar fingers while mine were in the thousand-dollar club. But I didn’t take his hand. We weren’t there anymore. I focused on that lean, subtly striking face with its laugh lines that were hiding and pink lips and those warm blue eyes. “Want to use my phone and call them in the meantime?”
Those eyes flicked down to me, and his Adam’s apple bobbed again as he nodded and lifted a hand to rub right between pectoral muscles buff enough for that touch to make them form a valley. There hadn’t been any muscles there back in the day, that was for sure. His head turned to the right, and he called out, “CJ! Can you call my phone? I gotta find it.”
“You got it, Big Texas,” whoever he’d been talking to responded in a deep, deep voice.
Big Texas. I doubted he still thought of me whenever someone called him that. I had a feeling it had been a long, long time since he had.
I shoved my phone toward him. The faster he did this, the faster I could leave. “If he’ll call it, I’ll help look for it while you get in touch with your mom.”
Those blue eyes moved toward me but were totally and completely distracted, like I was there but wasn’t. I couldn’t say I blamed him either, not after how the day was going.
My thought was confirmed when he looked down at my phone with sightless eyes. The beaming, happy man from a minute ago was totally gone, and I figured he needed a moment. Or ten. But he really did need to call his mom or my cousin.
And I needed to help him find his phone so I could go home.
I turned around to figure out who he’d asked for help and found a man pretty much directly behind me with platinum, bleached blond dreadlocks tied up into a ponytail holding a cell phone to his ear and swinging his gaze around at the same time. He wasn’t very tall—not like I was one to talk—but he was really fit. After casting one last glance at Zac as he stared down at my cell like he didn’t remember how to use it, I faced the other man again and got his attention. Two dark brown eyes flicked down to me.
“Hi. If you’ll call it, I’ll look for it.”
The pretty buff man eyed me with a nod, his gaze sliding to my polo shirt for a second before he said, “I’ll keep calling until you find it.”
“Deal.”
It took a long time walking through the house and the crowd of strangers to finally find a ringing iPhone with a big crack across the screen in a half bathroom by the front door. I snorted.
This man who used to have an eight-figure contract had a phone with a cracked screen. It wasn’t so different from the Zac I’d known who would use duct tape on tears in his jacket, had cardboard taped to his car window for two months after an ex-girlfriend broke it, and had always ordered from the dollar menu because it was cheaper than buying a meal at the drive-through.
He really hadn’t changed that much over the years. It was nice. If life and people and fans and critics hadn’t done it, I had a feeling nothing and no one ever would. And that was even nicer.
He’d been happy to see me, there was no hiding that.
I hit answer as CJ Daniels—White Oaks flashed across the screen. “Got it. Thanks.” I got a grunt in return and hung up.
Zac’s phone vibrated, and the screen illuminated. It was second nature for me to look at it.
NEW TEXT MESSAGES
AMY BLONDEWAITRESS OKC: [picture message]
And below that, there were older notifications.
KEISHA BLDIVORCELAWYER OKC: [picture message]
STACY BROWNBANKER OKC: Just heard about…
VANESSA: [two new messages]
AIDEN: Call me.
TREVOR: WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING. CALL ME BACK
Amy. Blonde Waitress. OKC.
Keisha. Blonde? Divorce attorney. OKC.
Stacy. Brunette banker. OKC.
And a Vanessa.
At least he had his way of remembering the… people he met.
For one tiny, stupid, unnecessary second, I wondered if he had any Biancas in his phone. But just as quickly as that question entered my head, I kicked it to the side, as far away as possible.
It was none of my business.