Page 18 of Rhett & Moses
The weight of those missing years pressed on me suddenly, all the moments we hadn’t shared, the milestones we’d celebrated separately, the paths we’d walked alone when we might have walked them together.
“Too long,” I agreed, the admission surprising even me.
Something shifted in Rhett’s expression, hope kindling behind his eyes. Before he could respond, however, Vanessa returned with Melissa and Jeremy in tow, all three carrying trays of colorful drinks.
“Jell-O shots!” Vanessa announced with gleeful enthusiasm. “A proper 80s afternoon of fun and relaxation requires proper 80s refreshments.”
The moment broken, Rhett and I accepted the offered shots with forced smiles. The rest of the trivia game passed in a blur of increasingly difficult questions, increasingly potent drinksdespite the hour, and increasingly charged glances between Rhett and me.
Our team ended up placing second, narrowly defeated by the student council alumni in a final round about Gomillion High sports records. As the crowd dispersed for dancing and more drinking, I found myself standing awkwardly beside Rhett, neither of us quite ready to join the festivities nor prepared to continue our interrupted conversation.
“I should check in with Bronwyn,” I said finally, gesturing vaguely toward the exit. “Make sure the bar’s running smoothly without me.”
“Sure,” Rhett nodded, though disappointment flickered across his face. “I understand.”
I turned to leave, but something stopped me, perhaps the memory of his hand on my knee, or the revelation about the statue, or simply twenty years of regret crystallizing into determination. Whatever it was, I found myself turning back.
“Rhett,” I said, my voice steadier than I felt. “Can we talk? Properly, I mean. Without interruptions or trivia buzzers or tipsy classmates?”
Relief washed over his features. “Yes,” he said immediately. “When? Where?”
I considered our options. The bar would be busy and any public place in Gomillion would mean constant interruptions from curious former classmates.
“My apartment,” I decided. “Above the bar. After closing tonight. Say, midnight?”
Rhett nodded, a smile breaking across his face like sunrise. “I’ll be there.”
With that settled, I made my escape, needing time to collect my thoughts before what promised to be a decisive conversation. As I pushed through the gymnasium doors into the cool air, Ipulled out my phone to text Bronwyn, only to find three missed calls and a series of increasingly urgent messages from her:
Where are you?
Mayor Hayes is here asking questions about that pin.
Moses, call me. NOW.
A cold dread settled in my stomach. After twenty years, was the truth finally going to come out? And if it did, what would that mean for me, for Rhett, for the careful life I’d built?
I was about to find out, it seemed. As I hurried toward Timbers & Tallboys, I steeled myself for a confrontation two decades in the making. Whatever happened, at least I’d no longer be carrying the burden alone. Rhett knew the truth now, and somehow, that made all the difference.
The light breeze caressed my face as I walked briskly through Gomillion’s quiet streets. People walked on past minding their business, and in the distance, I could hear the faint sounds of music throughout town. It was surreal, being back here after so long, walking these familiar paths with such different perspectives.
By the time I reached Timbers & Tallboys, my resolve had solidified. The bar was busy, as expected for a reunion weekend, but not chaotically so I slipped in through the back entrance, making my way to the office where I found Bronwyn pacing, phone in hand.
“Finally,” she exclaimed when she saw me. “Where have you been? I’ve been calling for the past hour!”
“Trivia game at the gym,” I explained, shrugging off my jacket. “What’s going on? Your texts sounded urgent.”
Bronwyn ran a hand through her short hair, a gesture that betrayed her nervousness. “Mayor Hayes came in looking for you. He was asking about the display behind the bar, specifically, that school pin.”
“What did you tell him?” I asked, my voice carefully neutral despite the anxiety churning in my gut.
“That it was just some old junk I’d collected over the years,” she replied. “But he didn’t buy it, Moses. He kept saying he’d seen it somewhere before, that it looked familiar.”
Of course it looked familiar. It had belonged to his son, the golden boy of Gomillion who’d gotten away with vandalism by blackmailing me into taking the fall.
“Did he say anything else?” I pressed.
Bronwyn hesitated, which immediately put me on alert. She wasn’t one to mince words or protect feelings.
