“Oh?” I turn that piece of information in my head. What that means is obvious. Noah didn’t want to behere. Where she might run intome. Scrubbing a hand over my face, I hardly feel it. I haven’t wanted tofeelanything and mostly don’t. These are the lies I tell myself. The bourbon isn’t doing its job because there’s no forgetting what’s plaguing me. “Dress shopping, huh?” With my eyes narrowing, I shake my head, giving an aggrieved chuckle.Wedding dress shopping, she means.“Got it.” I plunk my hat back on top of my head and turn.
“Wait, Rhett.”
With my boot resting on the running board, I glance back at her.
“She’s pretty messed up, Rhett. And I’d be an idiot not to notice that you are, too.” She stares at me, eyes searching for answers I’m not ready to say aloud. “If you’d just give me a clue as to how I could help.”
My fingers clutch the flask a little tighter. Exhaling slowly, I shake my head. “She’s the one with a problem.”
Sage’s brows shoot up, eyeing me warily. “What does that mean?”
I let out a rough chuckle. “I’m not the one who has a fiancé waiting on me. She has to live with herself—with what she’s done.” I’m plenty aware that my tone is harsh. Biting. Angry. And I can’t do a fucking thing about it. Because that’s how I feel.
Sage lifts a brow, stalking forward. “I’m caught between a rock and a hard place, and that tells me absolutely fucking nothing.”
My jaw clenches tightly. “You don’t need to be in the middle of thisat all.”
“Would you get your head out of your ass?” She folds her arms over her chest. “I don’t know what to do with either of you. Noah has been my best friend for years. I’m worried about her.”
“So? Worry abouther. Leave me out of it.” I chuck my hat into the truck before whirling around. “I take it she didn’t tell you what was said… or anything else.” Planting my hands on my hips, I turn to meet her, closing the distance between us in a few short strides.
Tilting her head to the side, she studies me all while irritation bleeds from my pores. “No. She didn’t.” Marching forward, she pokes her finger into my chest. “Dammit, Rhett, don’t you get it? I care about you.” Her face has flushed red, and she huffs, exasperation weaving itself into her body’s movements. “But it’s more than that!” Her breath hitches and tears well in her eyes. “You’re like a brother to me. When you’re around…” Frustration mounts within her, clear as day, and I wait, hating that she’s struggling like this. Then, as if a dam bursts, she insistently finishes, “When you’re around, it’s like I still have someone who cares about me like Jonah did.” A sigh relaxes her shoulders. “And I’m worried about what you’re doing to yourself.”
The concern lacing her words digs right inside me, deflating some of my anger. I let out a heavy exhale, because yeah, she should be.
NOAH
8
The Maple Beanstill smells the same as it did when I was eighteen. Like butter surrendering on a hot skillet, dark-roast coffee sharp in the air, and the faint sugar-dust of Claudia’s famous cinnamon rolls drifting from the pastry case.
For a second, if I close my eyes, I could almost trick myself into believing I’ve stepped back in time, before everything cracked in two. Back when Sunday mornings meant greasy plates, Rhett’s thigh brushing mine beneath this very table, and the world still felt wide open.
But then the memory shifts, and I hear him in my subconscious. Low. Rough. Frayed by bourbon and something darker.You miss us, Noah. You miss me.
I stab at my waffle, cutting it into neat squares that I have no intention of eating, then drag a soggy piece through syrup just to keep my hands busy. My smile staysglued in place—the one I perfected on tour, the one that convinces strangers and cameras and even my own mama that I’m fine.Just enough teeth. Just enough shine. Never enough truth.
Next to me, Sage is radiant in a butter-yellow sundress, in full storyteller mode, waving her fork like a conductor’s baton. “And then Cole swears the goat winked at him. He squealed like a pig and nearly dropped the whole bucket of feed. I thought I was gonna choke from laughing.”
Grandma Jo cackles so hard her mimosa sloshes onto the table, the bubbles fizzing against her hand. “That boy’s got the swagger of a ranch hand but the nerves of a Sunday school girl.”
Mom shakes her head, trying to smother a grin behind her napkin, but her eyes give her away—bright, delighted, soft in a way that makes my chest ache. They’re happy. They’re whole. And I’m sitting here pretending I’m not splintering apart one smile at a time.
Because inside, I’m not in this booth at all. I’m still outside Boozin’ Boots, the truck door digging into my spine as Rhett cages me in with his body, his mouth crushing against my lips like he had something to prove.
My chest is still split wide from it, ribs creaking like they’re trying to hold in a storm that refuses to stay put.
The diamond on my left hand catches the sun, flashing in my eyes like a spotlight. I tilt my hand intoshadow, but the reminder lingers, bright and cutting. A promise I’m supposed to be grateful for. So why does it feel more like a chain disguised as a gift?
Sage leans in, her shoulder brushing mine. Thankfully, she hasn’t pushed too much on the subject of Rhett, but deep down I know she feels caught in the middle. The two of them have gotten closer in the years I’ve been away. He treats her like his ornery little sister, and she leans on him like she once did Jonah. I’m glad she had him to help her through, but a part of me feels bad it wasn’t me. I should have been here for her. I wasn’t. And now that Sage is dating Kade, they’re basically family. I never want her to feel like she has to pick sides between us.
Sage glances down at her phone screen. “Oh, shit. Is that the time?” Her grin widens, mischief lighting her eyes. She practically bounces on her chair. “It’s almost eleven. We’d better get a move on if we want to make our appointment at BeDazzled.”
My stomach knots tighter, twisting in protest. I press the rim of my flute to my lips, let the bubbles fizz and burn, and swallow hard enough to keep the lump in my throat from spilling out as tears.
“Right.” I force my stage smile back into place, the one that hides everything I can’t say. “Let’s do this.”
We emerge from the cafe into late-morning sunshine, the kind that warms my shoulders and makes the airsmell like cut grass and diesel from the trucks lined up on Main Street. Sage loops her arm through mine, tugging me along the sidewalk with a skip in her step like we’re headed somewhere magical.
