But, nothing.

Nothing came to mind as the boots approached. The boots I remembered sitting by my fireplace after a rainstorm like this one. And as the water poured, streaming rivulets over me, I couldn’t look up. I just stood there.

Part of me wanted to look up and feast my eyes on the face I thought I would never see again in the real world. Of course, the other part of me kept saying, don’t do it. So I just stood there, in the rain, on the side of the road.

I’d seen him in the last five months, of course, online and on the front of tabloids here and there. And yes, in a fit of self-destructive misery I had given in to the urge to read every damn thing about him, thinking if I knew all his sordid details, it would help me get over what he did, or help me understand. It didn’t.

I absorbed story upon story and pictures of him gallivanting around the world, actually London mostly, always with some trashy blonde. I mean, seriously? He was into blondes? Who knew? Certainly not me, nor Audrey, apparently, the woman who was important enough to leave me for, who he was now no longer even seeing. Talk about a splinter under the fingernail of my self-esteem.

Five months ago Audrey and Jack had had some public break up which I’d heard about from his friend Devon, the actor-producer friend who was supposedly “up” with all things Jack. Devon told me the news with the thought that I actually meant something to Jack, and that he was coming back. To me. Only to have him … never … show … up.

I shuddered at the embarrassing memory and turned away from the person in front of me to face my truck. I needed a moment. Shit, I needed a lifetime of moments. But no, here I was, a drowned-rat version of the small-town girl he’d messed around with. I tilted my face to the rain. The silence was getting awkward.

“Colton.”

Aaargh. His voice. Deep, familiar, and resonating, singing over my chilled skin.

“Jack.” Colton’s voice had an odd inflection.

“I thought I recognized the truck. Is everything ok?”

“You should have kept on driving,” said Colt.

There was silence. I refused to tilt my face away from the pouring rain and look at him. Either of them. I could literally feel the weight of Jack’s eyes on me. The wind breaker came around my shoulders, courtesy of Colt. Whether it was a gesture of protection or the fact I was wearing a white t-shirt in a rainstorm, I didn’t know. My fingers accepted it gratefully.

The rain eased up.

“Maybe,” Jack responded.

Suddenly there was the sound of a fast footfall, and I turned just in time to see Colt’s fist fly out and land squarely on Jack’s jaw. “You have some fucking nerve, jackass,” Colt shouted. A car horn honked loudly as it passed, spraying water over us.

I gasped and instinctively leapt forward toward Jack, stopping myself just in time as he bent forward cradling his jaw, his face cinched up.

“Shit!” He stamped his foot down hard, as he breathed out sharply. “Shit,” he yelled again, straightening up and taking a lunging step forward.

Both Colt and I reared back. As Jack glared at Colt, I saw his eyes for the first time—hard, angry, and breathtaking. Then he stopped, his expression easing slightly. “I guess you were due one of those,” Jack said, referring to the last time they had met. He had sucker punched Colt, sending him to the floor of the club in Savannah after he saw us kiss.

After he’d left me for Audrey.

“Get back in your car, asshole.”

“Colt!” I said, before I could catch myself.

Colt whipped his head toward me.

So did Jack.

Our eyes clashed together and I felt winded for a moment. His hair was longer, shaggier, coming out from his cap that he’d pulled low over his eyes, shadowing his chiseled face. He looked … older. And bleak. And just as devastating to my soul.

“You have got to be kidding me.” Colt’s voice exploded into the moment. I tore my eyes away from Jack’s to see Colt looking incredulous. “He uses you, fucks you, and leaves, and I can’t defend your honor? You won’t even defend your honor? What? You want to do that all over again?”

I was silent and standing there soaking wet on the side of a South Carolina highway with a stalled truck and two men at odds. Over me. Words had yet to come to my aid. Finally, I snapped out of it. “Why don’t you both step aside. I need to fix this.”

I grabbed the jack and the iron, slapping Colt’s hand away as he leant down to help.

They both stood, and presumably watched, while I jacked my truck up, removed the lug nuts, pulled the wheel off, unwrapped the mangled tarp, and replaced everything. I bunched up the tarp and dumped it into the bed of the truck. Then I flung the jack and iron in on top and wiped the black grease down my jeans. Dang it, they were my nice jeans, too. The whole process took less than ten minutes.

I didn’t even look at either of them as I marched around toward the driver’s side. Halfway there, I suddenly remembered the windbreaker Colt covered me with, so I stopped and yanked it off, revealing my wet and clinging white t-shirt. I tossed the jacket toward Colt, not even looking or caring where either of their eyes were focused. I could guess.

Climbing in the pickup, I pulled my door closed and gunned the engine. Luckily, there was a break in traffic to make my exit more effective, and I took it, pulling out onto the highway with a screech of tires.

My heart pounded.

I risked one look in the mirror and saw Colton’s scowl and Jack standing with his legs akimbo, his arms folded, and a massive grin on his face. And whooped-de-do, there was a huge freaking rainbow in the sky taking up the width of the view, too. Ugh.

“Jazz. It’s me. Again. Call me back dammit. This is truly an emergency.” I hit the “end” button and flung my cell on the bed behind me.

Jazz was frolicking on the beach down in Florida with “Brandon of the chocolate brown eyes” whom she’d finally decided to go out with since Joey couldn’t get his head out of his ass. Now they were a lovey-dovey gooey mess of public affection, which they’d thankfully relocated for their spring break. I was happy for her, really. I just seriously needed her right now.

My phone beeped and I lunged for it, my chest deflating when I saw it was Joey. “Hi.”

“Great to speak to you, too. Colt just called and told me Mr. Jack Ass-ersea is back.”

I bit out a humorless laugh as my chest seized and flopped back on my covers, my feet dangling off the bed. “I’m not sure if he’s ‘back.’ He just happens to be here in the Lowcountry. We were driving home from Hilton Head, he could have been heading to Savannah for all I know.” Wow, I sounded so calm. Of course I’d obsessed about this detail of why he was here and where he was headed incessantly for the last three hours. Ever since I’d left him and Colt standing on the side of the road. But I wouldn’t admit that to Joey.

Where the heck was Jazz when I needed her? I took a breath and held it.

“Well, he is. He told Colt he was back.” Joey let out a sigh. “Indefinitely.”

My belly flipped over, and I brought my free hand up and covered my eyes. This was a nightmare. I thought I’d be over him. But if this and the way I had gone into total shock on the side of the road earlier was any indication, I was not over him. Not entirely. Damn it. Not at all. How was it possible to completely delude oneself for months?