Southern Hotshot (North Carolina Highlands 2)

“You sound like hell,” I say.

“I am in hell. Where are you?”

“I came home.”

Silence.

“You left the farm?”

“I told you, I needed space.”

“You said you needed time. It’s been two hours. Can I come to you?”

“No. Not right now.”

More silence. Then in barely a whisper, “How are you feeling?”

“Terrible. You?”

“Same.”

“For a second, I found myself wishing I had a chat date with MyBoyBlue. He always made me feel better.”

“Funny, but Lady V had the same talent. I still can’t believe it was you.”

“I still can’t believe I didn’t figure out that you were Blue sooner.”

“Maybe we didn’t want to see the signs. Maybe we needed a simple escape when our real lives got complicated. It was a good kind of complicated, though. Still is.”

“I beg to differ.”

“What can I do? To fix this?”

I close my eyes. “Samuel, I don’t think it can be fixed.”

“I beg to differ.”

“Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Throw my lines back at me.”

“Why? ’Cause it reminds you how fucking perfect we are for each other?”

“It doesn’t matter if we’re perfect for each other if being together means hurting the people we love and burning down our lives. I didn’t want to do this tonight, but…Samuel, you need to focus on your family. And I need to focus on…me.”

“What? Em, no. Please don’t.”

I want to cry, but I steel my spine instead. “This is my two weeks’ notice. I think we all know y’all are better off without me. I just witnessed firsthand how much hurt I’ve caused you and your family. I also saw firsthand how much family means to you. I won’t mess with the special thing y’all have going on up at Blue Mountain. Also, let’s be real—the chances of me building a career there went up in smoke the second I walked into the restaurant tonight. That spectacle? Samuel, everyone’s going to know about it if they don’t already. I’ve worked too hard to live under a cloud of rumor and judgment and so have you. One of us needs to go, and it makes the most sense that it’s me.”

Several beats of awful, bottomless silence fill a handful of heartbeats. I grab the nearest bottle of wine—an Arneis, perfect—and, tucking my phone between my ear and shoulder, try to dig my thumbnail inside the foil.

“You’re resigning,” he says.

“I am.”

“Well, too damn bad because I don’t accept your resignation.”

I sigh. “This is exactly why I didn’t want to talk to you until—”

“Until what, Em?”

“Until I was ready. But I guess I’ll never be ready to leave you, so now’s as good a time as any.” I glance over my shoulder and find Lindsey a few steps behind me, arms crossed, expression serious. “Hey, I gotta go. I asked for time, and I need you to respect that. We’ll work out the details of my transition at the restaurant tomorrow, okay?”

“I’m begging you, baby, don’t shut down on me. Don’t I have a say in this?”

I hand Lindsey the bottle and close my eyes. “I’m sorry, but my decision is final. It’s better this way. I’ll call Beau when I hang up with you.”

“Let me tell him. Please. I need to be the one who explains…everything. When I’m done I’ll let you know so you can give him a call. Sound good?”

“Okay. I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

“Em?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m not letting you go without a fight.”

I curl my fingers around the edge of the countertop, pressing the pads of my fingertips into the granite until they turn white. “Samuel, I already left.”

The silence that follows makes me want to die.

“Whatever happens,” he says at last, “I want you to know that I loved you before I found out you were V, and I love you now, and I’m pretty damn sure I always will love you, Emma Crawford. Because of you, I found myself again. I’m proud of who I am now. I like who I am. I’m focused on the right things, and that’s because I met you. You’re magic.” He clears his throat. “The time we’ve spent together has been fucking magical, baby, and I hope you’ll at least never regret that because you changed my life. Good night.”

Jesus Christ, I can barely breathe.

“Night, Samuel.”

Chapter Thirty-Three

Samuel

“I should fire your ass.”

I meet Beau’s gaze across his kitchen table. He’s in sweatpants and a T-shirt, and he’s got a snoozing Maisie curled into the crook of his arm. Clearly, he was on his way to bed when I barged into his house half an hour ago.

It’s no surprise he’s looking at me with daggers in his eyes.

I clear my throat, praying my words don’t catch on the lump there. “I’ll save you the trouble. I’m resigning.”

Beau rolls his eyes. “Dude, now is not the time for jokes, okay? I’m tired as fuck, and Bel—”

“Is impatiently waiting for you in bed,” she calls from the bedroom. “I may or may not be wearing pajamas.”