Page 42 of Undying Resilience
I find myself relaxing a little more. “You’re sure?” I can’t watch you die.
“Positive,” he whispers. “I promise.”
Chapter thirteen
Elliot
Because I love her.
When the words spilled through my phone, I wasn’t even surprised. Oliver fell for me and Rhett first, so it makes sense that he’d be the first to realize how deep his feelings are for Wren.
It doesn’t help the hurt, though. Or the panic.
What if his plan doesn’t work?
What if we lose them both?
“Ell.”
I look up from my phone. Rhett is dressed and ready to go, boots already on and everything.
“We need to get moving,” he says.
“Right.”
Again, I stare down at my phone, tracking the blinking blue dot that’s currently my only connection to Oliver. I texted him after our call, but he didn’t answer, which means things are probably going according to plan. For now.
“Everything’s in the SUV.”
The blue dot blurs. Then the whole screen.
“Fuck. Ell...”
I try to blink my tears back, but they end up falling. Gently, Rhett takes my phone from my hand and sets it on the counter. Then he steps in front of me, resting his forehead against mine.
He doesn’t say anything. But with Rhett, I don’t expect him to—don’t need him to. He places me firmly against his body, holding me tightly, and squeezes his eyes shut.
Get it together, Ell. You have to stay strong. For them.
“Just tell me we’ll get them home safe.”
“We will.” Rhett says it with such confidence that it’s hard not to believe him. “Now let’s get moving. I want them home tonight.”
He guides me through the house with his hand in mine. I can’t stop staring at the blinking blue dot on my phone, like knowing exactly where Oliver is will somehow make this all better.
It doesn’t.
“What if we can’t—”
“Don’t think like that, Ell,” Rhett says as he opens the passenger side door to my SUV. Then he pushes me inside. “I need you on top of your game today. So do O and Wren.”
“Right,” I mumble, pulling at my seatbelt.
We drive in silence. Judging how many miles we are from Oliver, they’re about forty-five minutes ahead of us. The roads aren’t good enough to try going over the speed limit even with four-wheel drive. If the way Rhett is tapping the steering wheel with his fingers is any indication, it’s frustrating him as much as it is me.
“They’re not heading in the direction of the vineyard house,” I say. “It’s one of the others—probably the old one that’s in the forest.”
“It’ll be okay,” Rhett replies. “Just tell me where to go.”