Southern Sinner (North Carolina Highlands 3)

Hank is my person. And I’m so damn grateful I found him.

We dance so hard that we sweat bullets. I’m about to suggest we take a beer break when Rhett appears at Hank’s elbow.

He’s white as a ghost.

Hank and I immediately go still.

“What’s the matter?” Hank asks.

Rhett blinks at the words, his gaze snapping into focus when it lands on my face. “Mind if I borrow my brother a second?”

Now Hank is white too.

“Everything okay?” I ask.

He manages a tight smile. “Nope. Not by a long shot.”

“Oh, Jesus. What can I do?”

Rhett glances around the pavilion. “Here, y’all both come. I need to talk to someone.”

We follow Rhett out of the pavilion onto the smoking patio beside it. Several guests are out here, most smoking the fat Cigars being handed out as favors, so Rhett hustles us to a far corner.

“Rhett,” Hank says, voice hushed. “You’re really starting to freak me out.”

“You’re freaked out?” Rhett lets out a bark of mirthless laughter. Tearing a hand through his hair, he paces in front of us. “How do you think I feel?”

I put a hand on his shoulder, stilling him. “Whatever it is, we’ll figure it out, all right?”

He swallows audibly. “Swear not to tell a soul?”

“Always. But you and I both know the walls have ears up here. Yes, even these walls.” Hank gestures to the night air around us. “You’ve got about five minutes until Milly finds out, so you might as well just say it.”

“True. Okay, so . . . right.” Rhett blows out a breath. “Y’all, I have a kid.”

My heart trips to a dead stop inside my chest. I meet Hank’s eyes, too stunned to speak.

“You have a kid,” Hank repeats gently. “Like you got someone pregnant, and they’re going to have a kid? Or the kid is already born?”

Rhett falls into a crouch, elbows on his knees, thumbs pressed to his eyelids. “He’s two years old, and his name is Liam.”

Hank looks at me this time, his eyes wide.

He doesn’t know what to say. To be honest, neither do I.

“And you just found out about Liam now?” I manage.

Rhett nods, eyes still closed. “Yes. It’s a long story, but . . . fuck, y’all. Fuck.”

I lean down and run my hand across his back. “It’s not the end of the world.”

“It is, though,” he says miserably. “It’s the end of my world.”

I want to ask what he means, but he’s just received the shock of a lifetime, and it’s a miracle he’s not emptying his stomach in the grass.

To be fair, he looks to be about four seconds away from doing that. Definitely not the time to ask for what are undoubtedly painful details.

“We’ll figure it out,” I repeat.

Hank shoves his hands in his pockets and glances up at the night sky, shaking his head. “Never a dull moment on Blue Mountain Farm, is there?”

Rhett shakes his head. “Nope.”