Page 20 of Rhett & Moses
The double meaning wasn’t lost on me, and I focused perhaps too intently on selecting a bottle from my personal collection, a small-batch bourbon aged in port wine barrels, and pouring two fingers for each of us.
I handed him a glass and took a seat on the opposite end of the sofa, maintaining a safe distance while still facing him. We sipped in silence for a moment, the rich, complex flavor of the bourbon spreading warmth through my chest.
“So,” Rhett finally said, setting his glass on the coffee table. “Mayor Hayes came to the bar earlier?”
News traveled fast in Gomillion, as always. “You heard about that?”
Rhett nodded. “Vanessa texted me. She’s worried about you.”
“Seems everyone is,” I commented, sipping my bourbon. “Bronwyn told him to mind his own business, but it’s clear he’s concerned about the pin being displayed so prominently.”
“Are you worried?” Rhett asked, studying me with those perceptive eyes that always seemed to see straight through my defenses.
I considered the question honestly. “Not as much as I should be, probably. Twenty years ago, the idea of the truth coming out terrified me. Now...” I shrugged. “I’m tired of carrying this secret, Rhett. I’m tired of letting it define me.”
He nodded slowly, understanding in his gaze. “So, what are you going to do?”
“I’m thinking of calling a group meeting,” I said, the plan forming as I spoke. “Tomorrow, on the school lawn. Everyone who’s here for the reunion. Tell them the whole story, finally clear my name.”
“That’s... big,” Rhett commented, eyebrows raised. “Are you sure?”
“No,” I admitted with a short laugh. “Not at all. But I know I can’t go another twenty years like this. And after seeing youagain...” I trailed off, uncertain how to articulate the sea change his reappearance in my life had triggered.
“After seeing me again, what?” Rhett prompted gently.
I took a deep breath, gathering my courage. “After seeing you again, I realized how much I’ve lost by letting fear dictate my choices. I don’t want to do that anymore.”
The silence that followed was charged with potential, with twenty years of unexpressed feelings hovering in the air between us. Rhett moved closer on the sofa, his knee now touching mine, his eyes never leaving my face.
“Moses,” he said softly, his voice rough with emotion. “I need to know something, and I need you to be completely honest.”
My heart hammered in my chest. “Okay.”
“That morning at the falls, you said you took the fall for the statue to protect yourself, not me.” His eyes searched mine. “But I need to know, was there any part of you that was also trying to protect me? To spare me from what would have happened if those photos got out?”
The question hit me like a physical blow, forcing me to confront a truth I’d buried deep for two decades. I had told myself it was purely self-preservation, that my actions had been entirely selfish. But that wasn’t the whole truth, and we both knew it.
“Yes,” I whispered, the admission feeling like both surrender and liberation. “I couldn’t bear the thought of your parents finding out that way, of you losing their support, your scholarship, everything you’d worked for. So yes, it was partly to protect you. Maybe even mostly.”
Rhett’s expression softened, a mixture of vindication and profound tenderness that made my throat tight with unshed emotions.
“I knew it,” he said quietly. “Even when I was angry with you, some part of me knew you wouldn’t have done what youdid without a reason that made sense to you, without believing it was the right thing.”
He reached out then, his hand covering mine where it rested on the sofa between us. The simple contact sent electricity shooting up my arm, a visceral reminder of the connection that had never truly faded despite time and distance.
“Tomorrow,” he said, his voice stronger now. “At this meeting. I’ll be there, standing beside you. Whatever happens, we face it together this time.”
The promise in those words, in his steady gaze, broke something loose inside me, a dam of fear and regret I’d built over twenty years, crumbling in an instant.
“Rhett,” I began, but found I had no words adequate to express what I was feeling. Instead, I turned my hand beneath his, interlacing our fingers.
We sat like that, hands joined, eyes locked, the weight of our shared past and the possibility of a shared future hanging in the balance. Whatever tomorrow brought, vindication or scandal, forgiveness or rejection, at least we would no longer be facing it alone.
And for now, that was enough.
CHAPTER 6
RHETT
