Page 81 of The Long Way Home
He exhales hard. I see it hit him. His eyes are dark, his jaw tight, like he wants to fight someone. Or maybe just shake me until I stop talking. But the truth refuses to stay in.
A shuddering breath escapes me. “I bent myself into what everyone needed me to be, all because I was so desperate to be seen. I don’t want to be too emotional or too loud or too nice. I just want to be enough. It’s pathetic. Even like this,” I wobbly gesture to myself, “even trying to practically force myself on him tonight, Ben doesn’t want me. I’m fucking pathetic, Rhett.”
Rhett moves without hesitation. Before I can hide my face in my hands, his hand finds mine, and he slips his fingers between them.
I finally glance at him. His expression hasn’t changed much, but his eyes burn. They look furious in a way that’s barely controlled.
“And I hate that the person who could fix this all isn’t alive anymore.”
His thumb moves slowly along the back of my hand. “I’m sorry, Sunny. I wish I could bring him back for you.”
My face is wet now. I don’t even know when the tears came back. He lifts his other hand, brushing a tear from my cheek. His thumb lingers, tracing a path I almost don’t want to end. I feel the heat of him. I can feel his presence pressing against me like gravity, tethering me. Slowly, he leans in, just a fraction, and I can feel the brush of his breath, the faint scent of him that always seems to settle around me. His hand slowly drags down my jawline, tipping the bottom of my chin upward so I have no choice but to meet his gaze.
“You, Sunny, deserve someone who shows up.” His voice is delicate. “Not just when it’s easy. Or out of obligation. You deserve someone who doesn’t make you beg for their attention.”
I blink, trying to will the tears away. But I can’t contain them.
“I just wanted Josh tonight,” I whisper. “I wanted him to tell me what to do. Tell me I’m not crazy for feeling this way.”
“I know,” Rhett murmurs as he rubs his thumb up and down my cheek. “If I could give you Josh instead of me, Sunny, I would. In a heartbeat. But I think Josh would want me to say this. You are an undeniable force. You could never lose sight of who you are, Sunny. You’ve carried more than anyone should have to, and somehow, you still shine. You still reach. You still fight. You’re relentless. Beautiful. Extraordinary. And if I could, I’d make it so the world had to notice, had to see you for the wonder you are. Because you, Sunny, deserve more than this world has given you.”
His hand drops from my chin just as my mind starts to spin. ‘These are the words I’m talking about, Josh, ’ is what I want to scream to the sky.
For a heartbeat, I let myself imagine—maybe, just maybe, he means it for me. That somewhere, in the hidden corners of his heart, there’s a place for me too.
It’s a foolish, dizzying thought, one I nearly reach for, as if it could anchor me. I can almost taste the warmth of it, the way hope might feel if I let it in. My brain screams at me to stop, to pull back before I fall too far.
If you could get drunk on overthinking, I’d be flat on my back, lost in it.
“You always do this,” I whisper. “You show up. You never ask for anything. You don’t need to rescue me, you know that, right?”
“You’re unbelievably frustrating, you know that, right? I’m not here to rescue you, Sunny.” His tone doesn’t flinch. “I don’tneedanything from you,” he responds. “I just want to be where you are.”
A tear slips down my cheek before I can stop it. He catches it with the pad of his thumb.
“You shouldn’t let me lean on you like this,” I whisper. “It’s not fair. I’ve treated you like crap for the past three months, and still, you’re here.”
“You think I’m only here because I’m waiting on something in return?”
Shame crawls up my neck. I look away, wishing I could erase my words before they even left my mouth. Why would he want anything from me? He doesn’t want me, not in that way. I mean, look at me.
Before I can fully retreat, his hand lifts, gentle but firm, tilting my face back toward him. His palm cups the side of my face, thumb brushing just in front of my ear, fingers tracing the curve of my neck. My heart hammers. And for a brief, cruel moment, I’m certain Rhett Hayes is going to kiss me.
“You could never give me a damn thing, and I’d still show up for you.” His eyes never waver from mine. “I’d still want you safe. I’d still want you to know you matter.”
He pulls his hand away, deliberately keeping a careful distance between us. My lip quivers despite my best effort to hold it in. I can feel him watching, and I know he knows just how close I am to falling apart.
“And for the record,” he adds, voice tightening, “if I ever see that asshole treat you like you’re some afterthought again—”
He stops mid-sentence, jaw working like it’s fighting against the rest of him.
I can’t hold it in any longer. The sob rips through me, a punch to the chest I can’t brace against. I wrap my arms around myself, trying and failing to contain the trembling.
Rhett moves before I even realize it. He sweeps me into his arms, pulling me onto his lap, his hands locking over my shoulders. I bury my face in his chest, letting the tears fall without pause. He holds me like it is the only thing he knows, like he can carry all of it, all my broken pieces, against the steady rhythm of his heartbeat under my cheek.
We don’t speak. The wind rustles through the trees, brushing the headstones in a quiet symphony. The moon casts long, sharp shadows across the graves. I stay pressed into him, because right now, his chest is the only place that feels like home.
“I miss Josh. I miss when I knew who I was.”
