Page 23 of Rhett & Moses
“He’s in the storeroom,” Bronwyn gestured toward the staff door. “Go on. I think he’s been waiting for you to follow him.”
I didn’t need further encouragement. Making my way through the crowded bar, I pushed through the door into a dimly lit hallway that led to what appeared to be a storage area. Moses stood amid shelves stocked with bottles and supplies, his back to me, shoulders tense.
“Moses,” I called softly.
He didn’t turn around. “I thought you might follow me.”
“What was that about?” I asked, moving closer but still maintaining some distance. “What ‘worse thing’ happened that night?”
Moses was silent for a long moment, his hand running through his curls in that telltale gesture that signaled internal conflict. Finally, he turned to face me, his expression grave.
“When I found Soren at the statue site that night, he’d been talking to someone,” he began, each word seeming to cost him effort. “He was angry that someone had seen him.”
“And the pin?”
“Soren must have lost it in the struggle. I found it later, when I went back to confront him about what I’d witnessed. By then, he’d already destroyed the statue, drunk and angry.”
Disgust turned in my stomach. “So, when he blackmailed you..."
“I agreed to take the fall for the statue on one condition,” Moses confirmed. “That he leaves town as soon as possible. He was already set to attend college out of state. I made sure he kept to that plan. I didn’t want to be part of any issues or backfire in whatever was going on behind closed doors especially involving the likes of Soren Hayes.”
“And the anonymous letters Hayes mentioned? The ‘threats of exposure’?”
Moses’s expression hardened. “Just reminders, over the years, that I was still watching, still holding that pin, still prepared to come forward if I had to. I had to make sure he understood the consequences.”
I sank onto a nearby crate, trying to process everything. “Why didn’t you tell me this yesterday? Or this morning at the falls?”
“Because it wasn’t just my secret to tell,” Moses replied, sitting beside me. “Whoever left obviously didn’t want to be known that night and has built a life for themselves away from the likes of Soren Hayes. I call that a win.”
“But is it?”
He nodded. “It’s the past. I need to move forward, and it seems everyone else is in this town apart from me.”
The weight of what Moses had carried all these years, not just the blame for vandalism, but the knowledge and the responsibility of protecting a mystery person, settled over me like a heavy blanket. Whoever this was and whatever it involved was a secret for them and them alone and not for the likes of the town to know.
“So now what?” I asked, looking up at him. “You’re really going to tell everyone? Not just about the statue, but about Soren and the mystery person?”
“To an extent,” Moses said simply. “For everyone’s sake. He needs to take responsibility for his actions. I deserve a chance to be free of the burden I’ve carried for all this time.”
I reached for his hand without thinking, entwining our fingers. “You realize what you’re risking? Hayes won’t go down without a fight. He’ll try to discredit you, maybe even me by association.”
“I know,” Moses agreed, his grip tightening on mine. “That’s why I told you there might be fallout. It’s why I wanted you to be prepared.” He paused, searching my face. “You can still walk away, Rhett. Go back home, forget all this. I wouldn’t blame you.”
The offer was genuine; I could see it in his eyes, a final chance to protect myself from whatever storm might come. But the mere suggestion sparked something fierce within me.
“Not a chance,” I said firmly. “I left you to face this town alone once before. I won’t make that mistake again.”
Relief and something warmer flooded his expression. “Thank you.”
We sat in silence for a moment, hands still joined, the weight of the upcoming confrontation hanging between us. Despite the gravity of the situation, I felt oddly at peace. The truth, howeverugly, was finally coming to light. And this time, Moses wouldn’t be standing alone when it did.
“So,” I said eventually, attempting to lighten the mood, “what does one wear to a public exposure of a two-decade-old scandal involving one of the town’s most prominent families?”
Moses’s laugh was startled but genuine, the sound warming something inside me. “Something resilient, I’d recommend. In case we need to make a quick getaway.”
“I was thinking more along the lines of righteously indignant but stylish,” I countered with a small smile. “Make a statement, you know.”
“Of course you were,” he rolled his eyes, but the gesture was fond rather than dismissive. “Always the architect, considering both form and function.”
