Page 9 of Rhett & Moses
“Because despite everything, Moses, I don’t like seeing you cornered,” I said softly. “Never have.”
A ghost of a smile touched his lips. “My knight in shining Armani.”
I grinned, relieved to see a flash of the old Moses, quick-witted, sharp-tongued. “I’d have gone with ‘defender in designer denim,’ but yours works too.”
He laughed, the sound warm and genuine, before his expression sobered. “Thank you, really. Tom’s always been an ass, but he’s not wrong about... about certain things.”
My heartbeat faster. “What things?”
Moses hesitated, his gaze drifting over my shoulder to where the party continued in full swing. “Not here,” he said finally. “Too many ears, too many opinions.”
“Yellow Branch Falls,” I suggested impulsively. “Tomorrow morning. 6.00 a.m. No crowds, no interruptions. Just us.”
He studied me for a long moment, conflict evident in his eyes. “Rhett, I don’t know if that’s a good idea. The falls... there’s history there.”
“I know,” I said quietly. “That’s exactly why it’s the perfect place.”
Our eyes held, the air between us charged with two decades of unspoken words. Finally, Moses nodded, just once.
“Six in the morning,” he agreed. “But I’m not promising anything, Rhett. Some stories don’t have satisfying endings.”
“I’m not looking for satisfaction,” I told him, though that wasn’t entirely true. “I’m looking for the truth. Whatever it is.”
A shadow crossed his face. “Be careful what you wish for,” he murmured, before straightening and adopting a more casual tone. “I should get back to the bar before Bronwyn hunts me down.”
“Go,” I said, making no move to stop him. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
He nodded again and turned to leave, but paused after a few steps. Without looking back, he said, “It’s good to see you, Rhett. Despite everything... it’s really good.”
Then he was gone, swallowed by the crowd, leaving me with a hopeful ache in my chest and the sense that tomorrow would either heal old wounds or tear them open completely.
Either way, after twenty years of wondering, I was finally going to get answers. Whether I’d like them was another question entirely.
CHAPTER 3
MOSES
I’d forgottenhow exhausting small-town events could be. After the ice breaker, I’d retreated to my apartment above the bar, desperate for a moment of solitude after hours of forced smiles and careful answers. My cheeks ached from maintaining a pleasant expression while fielding not-so-subtle inquiries about the references to “that night.”
Now, as I adjusted my navy blazer in the mirror of the gym’s restroom, I was preparing to do it all over again. The welcome party, the official start of reunion week, promised to be even more crowded, even more intense than last night’s ice breaker. And somehow, I’d been roped into emceeing a toast.
“You look like you’re preparing for your own execution,” Bronwyn commented, leaning against the doorframe with her arms crossed.
I grimaced at her reflection. “Close enough. Why did I agree to this again?”
“Because beneath that carefully cultivated cynicism beats the heart of a people-pleaser?” she suggested with a smirk. “Or because you still care what this town thinks of you, despite your protests to the contrary.”
“Neither.” I replied, turning to face her. “I agreed because you threatened to reveal my secret gin stash to the patrons.”
She laughed, the sound echoing off the tiled walls. “That too. But mostly because you need this, Moses. Closure. Catharsis. Whatever buzzword the therapists are using these days.”
I sighed, running a hand through my curls in a futile attempt to tame them. “What I need is a stiff drink and an early night. Not to be paraded in front of the same people who celebrated when I left town twenty years ago.”
“Not everyone celebrated,” Bronwyn countered softly. “Some of us missed you terribly.”
The sincerity in her voice caught me off guard. Bronwyn and I had been friends since childhood, but neither of us was particularly given to emotional declarations. I swallowed the sudden lump in my throat.
“Well, you’re stuck with me now,” I said lightly, adjusting my cuffs. “At least until the reunion’s over.”
