Page 108 of The Fine Line
“Rhett, what really happened when you were there? There are so many rumors, but nobody really knows.”
His shoulders rise slightly—just enough to notice—and stay there. Held breath. Locked tension.
“Well, I’m sure you’ve already made up your mind.”
“No.” I shake my head, even though he can’t see it. “I want you to tell me.”
I might have had theories at one point. But they were about a different Rhett. Not this one. The simple one I thought I knew.
He says nothing. He doesn’t move a muscle.
“Rhett?”
I take a step forward, then another, slow and cautious. Like I’m approaching a wild animal. I reach out and gently touch his shoulder.
“Rhett, just talk to me?—”
“I don’t want to, Cub,” he explodes, spinning around so fast my hand drops. “Not about that. Not about any of that. So just drop it, will you? I don’t?—”
He breaks off, chest heaving.
“You don’t what?”
One fist clenches at his side, the other shoots up into his hair, tugging hard like he’s trying to silence whatever’s clawing its way out. Then, like a switch, the fight drains from his face. His voice drops cold.
“I don’t want to talk to you.”
The words land hard. Too hard.
I stare up at him. For a second, I think I see regret flicker in his expression—but if it’s there, it’s gone in the blink of an eye.
“Yeah,” I say, swallowing. “Don’t worry, Rhett. I won’t be talking to you about it again. Or anything else.”
He nods once, sharp and stiff like it costs him something. Then he turns. Walks away.
I do the same.
My pulse thuds in my ears until it’s drowned out by a door slamming in the distance.
twenty-six
RHETT
Eleven Years Ago
Chicago, Illinois
I can hear it now, just like it was yesterday.
Back when I was a preteen, one of my hockey coaches went off on one of his usual motivational rants and said something that stuck with me.
“No one actually wants to achieve their dreams.”
I remember Bennett and me exchanging a glance, thinking,What the hell is this guy talking about?
But then he explained.
No matter what it is—an achievement, money, fame, a woman, even something material—the chase is what keeps us going. We romanticize the feeling we think we’ll get once it’s ours, how it’ll change everything. And that’s the trap. Because nine times out of ten, the anticipation ends up being more exhilarating than the actual moment. And the comedown? It can hit harder than if you’d never gotten itat all.
