Her words paralyzed me. I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t piece together a string of thoughts that made sense. A man whore? That seemed extreme. And he didn’t want into my pants. Or did he? Was it the game? Was I his toy?

“If you want me to talk to him—”

“No!” I shook my head. “Please, just let me handle it. Don’t tell Rory or anyone for that matter. I’ll … handle it.”

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Fisher was gone, upstairs I assumed, by the time Rose and I exited the bathroom. Rose suggested she and Tiffany leave. I didn’t know what she was going to say to Tiffany, but I felt confident that it might be a “Fisher is a man whore you deserve better” speech.

“Night, sweetheart.” Rory poked her head into my bedroom a little before ten as I reorganized my puzzles after Fisher rifled through them, solving the hardest ones.

After Rory’s bedroom door clicked shut, I texted Fisher.

Reese: Hi. Rose isn’t going to tell Rory or anyone.

Fisher: We leave at six in the morning.

I deflated at his cold response.

Reese: Are you mad?

I waited over fifteen minutes for a response.

Nothing.

So I decided to sleep on it. Things would be better in the morning.

Or so I thought.

When I reached the driveway the next morning, Fisher was already waiting, and it wasn’t six yet.

“Morning,” I smiled, hopping into the truck and tossing my bag in the back.

“Morning.” He gave me a forced smile for less than a second and put the truck into drive.

I gave him time. Five minutes. Ten minutes.

He said nothing and played music with the volume turned way up.

“What’s your car situation?” He broke the silence.

“Car situation?”

“Did you talk to your grandparents?”

“Yeah.” I turned my attention to the brake lights in front of us as we pulled to a stop at the light.

“And?”

“And they’re not going to give me the money for the Porsche, which is stupid because it’s my freaking money.”

“So you get the Forester?”

I shrugged with a single shoulder and sighed. “I suppose so.”

“Great. Get the money in your account and we’ll go get it tomorrow if it’s still there. Or you can go with Rory or Brendon. I really don’t care.”

He really didn’t care. Just what I wanted to hear. Rose was right. Fisher would crush my heart. As we waited for the light to change, my heart took off. Running away.

Away from the naked fisherman.

I wasn’t sure what propelled me to make my next move. I don’t remember my brain making some grand decision. It was instinct. Impulse. Survival.

Snagging my backpack from the back and unlatching my seat belt, I jumped out of the truck.

“Reese!”