Page 63 of Gold Rush

“What would you consider a good glimpse? An hour?”

I grind my molars. “Thanks for your help with the alarm, Flynn.”

“Not for the free show?”

I walk over to the closet, pulling the mop out so I can clean up the water on the kitchen floor and ensure I never slip near him again.

“Need help with anything else?”

“I’ve got it,” I say tightly, knocking the mop’s bucket against the counter in my haste.

“Encore is in the bathroom, if you change your mind …” He grins again before spinning around to finally leave the kitchen.

Before he’s out of sight, I blurt the question I’ve been debating asking all week. “Did you punch Carson?”

With no barrier of a shirt in the way, I have a clear view of his shoulders stiffening.

Flynn turns around slowly, his expression shifting to serious. “Who told you that?”

“He did.”

“He—when did you talk to him?”

“He texted me Sunday morning. Is it true?”

“Why didn’t you tell me he’d texted you?” Flynn demands.

“I’m telling you right now. Is. It. True?” I’m sick of his evasiveness.

He exhales. “I went to Proof when I got back to Manhattan after your graduation party. He was in one of the back booths with two girls. When I saw … yeah, I hit him. He was cheating, and he’d skipped your party to do it. He deserved worse.”

His threat to Sawyer earlier that day—“I’ll kick your ass if you hurt her”—flashes through my head, followed by my own glib response: “Would you? Or would you be the one getting your ass kicked in that scenario?”

I said that to him, and then he defended me. He could have easily looked the other way. Could have ordered a drink rather than confront my cheating ex.

I doubted he would intervene for my sister. I never ever expected he’d care enough to act on my behalf. And that was back in May, long before we were pretending to be together. No one would have expected him to stand up for me. Lili or Wren maybe. But not me.

The bruise on Carson’s face? That was from Flynn.

I think Flynn was expecting me to take a pacifist position because he appears increasingly unsettled by my silence.

He clears his throat before hooking a thumb over his shoulder. “If that’s all … I’m gonna go finish showering.”

I manage a nod.

Two steps later, I say his name.

He pauses, shoulders lifting and falling with a deep sigh before he turns to face me again.

“Thank you.”

Surprise flashes across his face. “Yeah. Sure.”

I stare at the puddles in the spot he was just standing after he disappears.

Then I realize I only have five minutes until I need to leave for work and jump into action.

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