Page 46 of When Forever Stays

Her eyes go round, and she looks like a deer caught in the headlights. She glances at each of the other girls, who give her a look that says to keep their source a secret. But as I expected, she caves.

“My mom heard from Janice who overheard Mrs. Woodhouse talking to Dr. Woodhouse at the grocery store about how Rhett was staying with you while he recovered from his accident.” She looks genuinely upset with herself. “It’s been making its way around town.”

“Of course, it has,” I mumble. “Just so you know, he only stayed with me one night. And Crew was there too.”

They all stare at me, appearing unconvinced, but Olivia arrives with the best timing, and she distracts them as she comes down the aisle.

“Miss Olivia!” the girls all shout and then storm to the aisle, where my sister holds her arms wide open. Each girl hugs her.

“How was your honeymoon?” Emma asks.

My sister shares about her and West’s trip to Paris, and we all settle back in our seats.

“Sorry I’m late,” Olivia whispers to me. “West and I…” she trails off, her cheeks turning pink.

“You’re not late. You’re just not as early as you usually are,” I respond. Looking over her, nothing seems out of place. But there’s a glow about her that tells me exactly why she’s later than usual. I smirk at her.

She smooths back her hair. I wiggle my eyebrows, and she rolls her eyes.

“Olivia and Weston, sitting in a penthouse…”

“Stop!” Olivia whisper-yells, making the group of girls turn to face us.

I bite my tongue as the desire to continue singing the obnoxious song from our childhood overwhelms me. It’s nice having my sister back. She’s always been my safe space. The person I know I can count on to not just be there for me but be real with me and stand beside me as I face the consequences of my choices—good or bad. I try to be the same for her.

Olivia’s mouth pops open as she turns to face the stage. Then she smacks my arm and points. “Since when does Rhett play in the church band?”

“What?” I ask. My chest tightens and I rub the tender spot. I’ve successfully avoided Rhett at all costs. Sure, I see him in the pews at church, but I dodge him any way I can.

This isnothow I wanted to face him—with him playing the guitar, giving me no chance of ignoring him. RJ Hemlock–now known as Rhett–captured my teenage heart through song. Idon’t know how my battered grown-up heart can handle hearing him play up close and live after knowing him so personally.

“I had no idea.” My voice is barely audible above the music.

Rhett starts strumming the guitar. He sounds even better than I remember. There’s more to his playing, more to his music. It’s a tune I’ve never heard before but is absolutely beautiful.

“He’s incredible!” Olivia whisper-shouts.

“That’s not what I need to hear right now,” I say, only mildly joking. Words from a song I wrote long ago play in my mind to the rhythm of his guitar. They’re a perfect match. Rhett’s eyes lock with mine and my breath hitches.

Before I can dwell on it, Olivia says, “Sorry, sis, but it’s a fact. I refused to admit it when we were younger, but despite the grunge sound of Phantom Echoes, RJ’s talent is undeniable.”

Her words bring me back to the present. I blow out a frustrated breath. “Right. RJ, not Rhett.”

A few of my girls rustle around and whisper to each other.

Olivia reaches over and grabs my hand, giving it a little squeeze. “I know it’s frustrating, but this too will pass. Give it to Jesus. He has a plan.”

It’s something I shouldn’t need to be reminded of. But the sentiment is the comfort my heart needs.

“I’m worried about you,” she says.

“I’m going to be okay.” I’m still a complete dumpster fire, but life is moving on, and in time, I’ll figure out what to do about Rhett. But first, I need to focus on getting back to Jesus. Myrelationship with Jesus is more important than anything or anyone else.Jesus chose me. I am His.

Finally, I understand why I haven’t been able to comprehend anything I’ve read: I’ve been too focused on myself and my woes, consumed by anger and hurt to understand the message God has written in His word. A conviction like I’ve never felt before hits me, and I make it my mission to focus on my girls and the lesson today, doing my best to ignore the talented man on stage.

As if she can sense my turmoil, Olivia leans over and whispers, “You know I’m here if you need me.”

“Just pray for me,” I respond.

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