Page 19 of Rhett & Moses
“He asked if you and Rhett Callahan had been spending time together,” she finally said. “Said someone had seen you two at Yellow Branch Falls this morning.”
My blood ran cold. Even now, after all these years, the Hayes family was still monitoring my movements, still invested in the secret staying buried.
“What did you say?”
“That it was none of his damn business who you spent time with,” Bronwyn replied with a hint of fierce protectiveness that warmed me despite the circumstances. “But Moses, I think you need to be careful. Whatever deal you made twenty years ago, it seems the mayor hasn’t forgotten.”
I nodded slowly, processing this new development. “It doesn’t matter anymore,” I decided aloud. “I told Rhett the truth this morning. About the statue, about Soren, all of it.”
Bronwyn’s eyes widened. “You did? How did he take it?”
“Better than I expected,” I admitted. “He’s coming over tonight after closing. We’re going to talk.”
A slow smile spread across Bronwyn’s face. “Well, it’s about damn time.”
Despite the tension of the situation, I found myself smiling back. “Yeah, I guess it is.”
“So, what’s the plan?” she asked, perching on the edge of the desk. “Regarding Hayes, I mean.”
I considered my options. For twenty years, I’d lived with the shame of a lie, protecting someone who hadn’t deserved protection, damaging my own reputation and relationships in the process. I was tired of it.
“I think it’s time for the truth to come out,” I said finally. “All of it. I’m done carrying this secret.”
Bronwyn studied me for a long moment, then nodded decisively. “About time. You know I’ve got your back, right? Whatever happens.”
“I know,” I replied, grateful beyond words for her unwavering support. “Thanks, Bronnie.”
She waved off my gratitude with typical brusqueness. “Don’t get sappy on me now, Morley. Save it for your architect.”
I felt heat rise to my face. “He’s not ‘my’ anything.”
“Yet,” Bronwyn countered with a knowing smirk. “Now, get out there and do some actual work. I’ve been covering for you all day.”
I saluted mockingly but did as instructed, making my way to the main bar where a handful of reunion attendees who hadn’t been at the trivia were nursing drinks and reminiscing. The pin that had caused such a stir sat innocuously on its shelf, a small piece of metal that had shaped the course of my life in ways I was only now beginning to fully understand.
As I moved behind the bar, falling into the familiar rhythm of mixing drinks and making small talk, my mind was already racing ahead to midnight, to Rhett, to the conversation that might finally set us both free from the past that had held us captive for far too long.
The hours ticked by with excruciating slowness. By eleven-thirty, the last stragglers were settling their tabs, and Bronwyn was shooing the kitchen staff home with leftover pretzels andfried pickles. By eleven-forty-five, the bar was empty save for the two of us, and I was a bundle of nerves.
“Go,” Bronwyn urged, practically pushing me toward the back stairs that led to my apartment. “I’ll close up. You have more important things to do.”
I didn’t argue, grateful for the extra time to prepare myself. My apartment was simple but comfortable, an open floor plan with exposed brick walls, large windows overlooking Main Street, and furniture that balanced rustic charm with modern comfort. I’d barely had time to straighten up and change into a fresh shirt when there was a knock at my door.
Taking a deep breath, I crossed the room and opened it to find Rhett standing there, looking slightly nervous but devastatingly handsome in the same blue suit from earlier, though he’d discarded his tie and opened the top buttons of his shirt.
“Hi,” he said, a tentative smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “Is this a bad time?”
“No,” I replied, stepping back to let him in. “It’s perfect timing, actually. Bronwyn just finished closing up.”
He entered, his eyes taking in my living space with obvious interest. “Nice place,” he commented, running a hand along the back of my leather sofa. “Very you.”
“Is that a compliment or an insult?” I asked, only half-joking.
Rhett’s smile deepened. “Definitely a compliment. It’s comfortable but stylish, unpretentious but high-quality. Like its owner.”
The warmth in his voice made something flutter in my chest. To hide my reaction, I moved to the kitchen area. “Can I get you a drink? I have a decent selection, as you might imagine.”
“Surprise me,” he replied, settling onto the sofa. “You always did have an intuitive sense for what I’d like.”
