Page 80 of The Long Way Home
I stare up at the starless sky, while the cold air presses down around me, and I let the time tick away. I can hear the wind slide through the trees nearby. The sound is almost relaxing. I stay where I am, curled up against the cold stone, because it’s the only thing holding me upright at this point.
I don’t know how long I sit like that, breathing in the stillness, but eventually, I hear footsteps. I don’t know how he found me, but I should have known he would eventually rescue me here. He knows when I’m teetering too far on my own.
I keep my eyes on the grass. My fingers are buried in it, yanking up a few blades, twisting them until they snap. My chesttightens in equal parts relief and frustration. And no matter how much I want to push him away, I can’t stop my shoulders from relaxing when he is standing in front of me.
“How’d you know I was here?” My voice is rough, raw from crying or maybe the Tequila.
Rhett’s boots scrape closer. “Margo asked me to check on you,” he says, lowering himself onto the grass next to me, “since she bailed on you at the bar.”
“I didn’t tell Margo I was coming here.” I swipe at my cheek again, dragging my sleeve across wet skin.
He sits still for a moment. He is close enough that our shoulders brush, and like it always has before, my skin pricks at his proximity. I can feel the heat where we touch. When his hand settles on my thigh, it’s barely there, so careful it feels like he is afraid I might shatter.
“I know,” he murmurs.
I keep my eyes on the grass rather than looking at his face. It seems to be the safer option out of the two.
“I went to the bar,” he continues, leaning back slightly, pressing one hand into the earth. “And you weren’t there. The bartender thought you went home, given how drunk you were, but I knew better.”
“How?”
He glances at the shadows between the trees. “Because, despite what you say, I know you, Sunny, and I knew you wouldn’t go home. And if you weren’t with Margo, or at the bar, there was only one place left you’d be.”
His thumb brushes my leg this time, and I have to fight the urge to ask him to hold me.
“You didn’t have to come.”
“I know that.”
I remain silent, afraid of what will come loose. Emotionally, I’m already beaten down enough to spill even my deepestsecrets. Then add the Tequila to it, and I’m bound to put my foot in my mouth. So rather than do that, I stare out at the cemetery.
“Talk to me, Sunny. What’s going on in that big, beautiful brain of yours?”
I feel him shift closer to me as he rests his back against the stone.
“I don’t know who I am anymore, Rhett,” I whisper. “And I don’t know what I’m doing. I’m not stupid. I can see Ben doesn’t care about me. And I keep trying to make it work. For what? Out of habit? Fear? I don’t even know.”
I look down and then back up to him. “I don’t recognize the girl I am. Or the life I’m stuck in. I don’t know where it all went so wrong, but I used to be unafraid to be me. I used to be loud and unfiltered and…” I let out a sigh. “Me.”
I force myself to laugh, but it comes out empty. “And to top it all off, as if I’m not already down for the count, the universe decides to play a joke on me. Just when I think I’ve sorted everything out, you show up. And suddenly all the stuff I thought I’d left behind is back, staring me in the face…”
“I’m unraveling,” I whisper, voice breaking. “I’m doing everything wrong, and I can’t fix it. And all I can do is be pissed that the one person I need was taken from me.”
“You’re not unraveling,” he says, voice steady. “But even if you were, you don’t have to do it alone. And yeah, I’m pissed too.” I know he misses Josh just about as much as I do.
“Why do you care so much?” I swallow hard. “Why’d you come here?”
“Because you’re Rachel.” His answer is immediate.
I blink at the grass. “Being Rachel has never been enough, Rhett.”
He stays still, jaw tight, hands curling into fists on his knees, holding them that way for a beat before unclenching, forcing himself soft.
I continue before he can try to convince me otherwise, the words cracking as they leave my mouth. “Clearly, I’m not. I try, and I try, and people still leave me. I’m still told I’m too much or not enough.” I shake my head and finally look up at the sky, but there is nothing up there for me.
“I tried to be,” I go on. “For Ben. For my parents. For Margo, after Josh died. For everyone. I’ve twisted myself into so many versions of what I thought people needed. What I thought they wanted from me. Along the way, I lost the girl I loved being.”
I clench my hands in my lap until my knuckles ache. “And somehow, even with all of that, it’s still not enough. My parents are gone gallivanting around the world because they can’t cope with losing their favorite child. Josh is dead. Margo has someone who sees and puts her first. And Ben… Ben barely acts like he wants to be around me. I’m left here, and I can’t seem to find my way back to that girl.”
