Through the Years
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Rhett's eyes locked on Ashley’s. “But then,” he added, voice lowering, "you didn’t come after me to defend their honor, did you?”
Ashley halted, his lips parting. “No.”
A slow, satisfied smile unfurled across Rhett’s mouth—half in triumph, half in knowledge, and the lines at his eyes creased with sincerity. “No,” he echoed, softer. “I didn’t think so.”
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- Part 1 of Through the Years
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Rhett recalled the urgency that overtook him the moment the door shut and the Yankees left; how everything inside him ignited at once, burning with intent—his voice shouting commands, his legs moving of their own accord, his hands tearing at the fabric around the wound, his mind in a haze of worry, his vision blurry with panic—though he permitted himself the word now.
He remembered how Ashley had felt in his arms—weightless, as though half the blood had already drained out of him. Rhett had been running solely on adrenaline from the instant he learned of the ambush and raced against time to prevent it.
Too late. Almost fatally too late.
Series
- Part 2 of Through the Years