Page 11 of Rhett & Moses
A cheer went up from the crowd, glasses raised in response. I handed the microphone back to Principal Bushman, relief washing over me as I stepped away from the spotlight. As I descended the stairs, Vanessa caught my arm, pulling me into a quick hug.
“Nicely done,” she said, sounding genuinely impressed. “Very poetic. Very... authentic.”
The emphasis she placed on the last word made me uneasy. “Just saying what people wanted to hear, Nessa.”
She gave me a knowing look. “Were you? Because that sounded an awful lot like Moses Morley embracing his true self in front of the entire town.”
Before I could respond, another voice joined our conversation.
“I have to agree with Vanessa,” Rhett said, appearing at my side with two glasses of champagne. He offered one to me, whichI accepted with what I hoped was a casual nod. “That was quite a toast. To authenticity, was it?”
The way he said it, lightly teasing but with a layer of significance underneath, made me flush.
“Something like that,” I muttered, taking a sip of champagne to avoid meeting his eyes.
“Well, I think it deserves another toast,” Rhett declared, raising his glass. “To Moses Morley’s authentic self, may we all be lucky enough to witness it.”
The warmth in his voice was unmistakable, as was the subtle emphasis on “witness.” The implication was clear: He knew. Maybe he’d always known. The question that remained was how many others did too.
I glanced around nervously, noticing several heads turned in our direction, conversations pausing as people observed our interaction with undisguised interest. Panic flared in my chest.
“I need some air,” I mumbled, already backing away. “Excuse me.”
I pushed through the crowd toward the nearest exit, ignoring the curious looks and whispered comments that followed. Outside, the cool night air hit my lungs like a balm, and I leaned against the brick wall, closing my eyes and focusing on steadying my breathing.
What was I doing? I’d come back to the reunion with a simple plan: face the past, make peace with it, and leave again with a clean slate. Instead, I was getting pulled back into the same whirlpool of emotions and complications that had driven me away in the first place.
And at the center of it all, as always, was Rhett.
The door clicked open beside me, and I didn’t need to look to know who it was. His cologne, expensive, subtle, with notes of sandalwood and something uniquely him, gave him away.
“You, okay?” Rhett asked quietly, leaning against the wall next to me, close enough that our shoulders almost touched.
“Fine,” I replied automatically. “Just needed some air.”
“Bullshit,” he said, but there was no heat in it. “You’re spiraling. I can practically hear the wheels turning in your head.”
I glanced at him, surprised by his perception. “How would you know?”
“I know you, Moses,” he said simply. “Better than you think. Better than you want me to.”
The certainty in his voice sent a shiver down my spine that had nothing to do with the cool night air.
“That was a long time ago,” I reminded him. “People change.”
“Some things don’t,” he countered, turning to face me fully. “Like the way you bite the inside of your cheek when you’re nervous. Or how you run your hand through your hair when you’re about to lie. Or the fact that you’ve spent twenty years avoiding this town because you’re afraid of facing the truth.”
His words hit too close to home, and I pushed off the wall, creating distance between us. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Don’t I?” he challenged, his eyes never leaving mine. “Then explain the pin, Moses. Explain why you have Soren Hayes’ school pin hidden in plain sight behind your bar.”
My heart hammered against my ribs. “It’s just a trinket Bronwyn picked up somewhere. It doesn’t mean anything.”
“Another lie,” Rhett said softly, taking a step toward me. “Your hand is in your hair again.”
I dropped my hand instantly, cursing my transparent tells. “What do you want from me, Rhett?”
“The truth,” he said simply. “After twenty years, don’t you think I deserve that much?”
