Beg For It

ARDEN'S POV

Rain has a way of making old ghosts louder.

Maybe it’s the way it slides down windows like time itself is dripping away. Or maybe it’s because, on nights like this, you can’t help but remember other storms. The ones that came before everything fell apart.

I was standing at the front counter of my event studio, going over invoices, when I saw him.

Rhett Maddox.

Even his name still had weight in my chest.

He was leaning against the doorway like he had all the right in the world to be there, dripping water onto my polished concrete floors, wearing that same reckless smirk I remembered from five years ago—except now it was sharper, more calculated. His dark hair was wet from the rain, strands falling over his forehead in a way that made my fingers twitch with a memory I had no business revisiting.

For a moment, I didn’t move. Didn’t breathe. I thought maybe I was imagining him, some cruel trick my brain decided to play after a long day.

But no. He was real. Real enough that my pulse hammered against my ribs, and the taste of copper rose in my mouth from biting the inside of my cheek.

“Arden,” he said, like the syllables belonged to him.

They used to.

I straightened, spine rigid. “You have five seconds to tell me what you’re doing here before I call security.”

He laughed. Low. Unhurried. “Still dramatic, I see.”

“And you’re still dripping water everywhere.” My voice was flat, but my hands trembled under the counter. “I thought you moved halfway across the world. Isn’t there some glamorous city waiting for you to charm it?”

“Turns out, the view’s better here.” His eyes roamed the studio slowly, like he was cataloging every detail. The exposed brick walls. The warm Edison lights. The neatly stacked shelves of décor pieces I’d collected over the years. I built this space from nothing, piece by piece, brick by emotional brick. And now, here he was, standing in the middle of it like he had the right to see it.

“What do you want, Rhett?” I asked, every word sharp enough to cut.

He took a step forward, closing the gap between us. I didn’t flinch, but it took everything in me not to. “I need an event space,” he said simply.

I blinked. “You’re joking.”

“Do I look like I’m joking?” His tone was all business now, but there was something beneath it. Something unspoken. “It’s for a fundraiser.”

“A fundraiser,” I repeated, the word sour in my mouth. “And you thought, out of all the venues in this city, you’d come to me?”

His jaw tightened. “You’re the best.”

I hated that part of me still warmed at the compliment. “No,” I said flatly. “I don’t work with—”

“With what?” His eyes locked on mine, and suddenly it felt like the air between us was too thin. “With people who’ve hurt you? With people you used to know?”

I swallowed hard. “With people who leave without looking back.” I said with a crack in my voice.

The silence after that was heavy enough to crush bone. Rain battered the windows, filling the space where neither of us could speak.

Finally, he broke it. “Arden, I’m not here to stir things up. I’m here because this matters.” He said softly.

The way he said it—low, certain—made something twist in my chest. Rhett was many things, but a liar wasn’t one of them. At least, not about things that mattered.

I should have told him to leave. I should have turned back to my invoices and locked the door behind him. But instead, I asked, “What’s the cause?”

He hesitated for a fraction of a second, then said, “Children’s literacy program. They’re losing funding.”

Damn him. He knew exactly which nerve to hit. My mother had taught me to read long before school did, and books had been my only escape after she passed.

I crossed my arms, keeping my voice cool. “You could have sent an email.”

“I could have,” he said, “but I knew you’d delete it.”

He wasn’t wrong.

I turned away, walking toward the back storage area. It was easier to think without his eyes on me. “You realize you’re asking me to spend weeks working alongside you?”

“I’m aware.” He smirked

“And you think that’s a good idea?”

“I think it’s the only idea.” He said with another smirk

Something in his voice made me pause. Not cocky. Not arrogant. Just… certain.

I hated that it got to me.

When I came back to the counter, he was still there, dripping water onto the floor, his hands shoved into his jacket pockets like he wasn’t sure whether to reach for me or keep his distance.

“I’ll think about it,” I said finally.

His mouth curved—just slightly—but there was relief in his eyes. “That’s all I’m asking.”

I should’ve ended it there, but my mouth betrayed me. “Why now, Rhett? After all this time?”

His expression shifted, something shadowed passing over his features. “Because I realized some things aren’t as permanent as I thought.”

The answer was vague, and I hated vague. But it was enough to crack something open inside me. Not much. Just a sliver. Enough for him to wedge himself back into my life if I wasn’t careful.

The rain eased outside, and he stepped back toward the door. “I’ll be in touch.”

“Don’t—” I started, but stopped myself. Telling Rhett Maddox not to do something was the fastest way to guarantee he’d do it.

He smirked, pulling the hood of his jacket over his head. “Goodnight, Arden.”

When the door closed behind him, I stood there in the quiet, heart pounding, surrounded by the scent of rain and the faint trace of his cologne—clean, sharp, and maddeningly familiar.

I hated that it made the room feel warmer.

I cleaned the counter mechanically, trying to scrub away the wet footprints he’d left on my floor. But the truth was, his real footprints were already in my head, in the memories I’d fought to bury.

I told myself I wouldn’t work with him. That it wasn’t worth the risk. That I’d built this life without him, and I didn’t need him dragging old storms back into my sky.

But a part of me—the reckless, dangerous part—already knew the truth.

I was going to say yes.

Not because I wanted to see him again.

But because, deep down, I wasn’t sure I’d ever stopped.