The space feels different without Rhett here—less stable, more fragile—but the air doesn’t collapse. I don’t collapse. I stay right where I am, wrapped in the echo of his arms, in the certainty he left behind with me.
“He’ll be back,” Sage reassures quietly, as if reading the tension in my body.
I nod once, holding onto that thought like a lifeline. “I know.” Rhett came for me. He didn’t hesitate. And he’ll come back.
The alternative isn’t an option. I’ve lived through life without Rhett once before, and I can safely say I learned my lesson. I need his arms exactly the way they were when he held me together after Bradley tore my world apart.
Insidious guilt creeps in, whispering that I’m taking too much, that I’m clinging too hard, that one day he’ll feel the weight of my shattered pieces, and it will be too much. The thought tightens my chest, fear tangling with the grief until I can’t tell where one ends and the other begins.
Right now, all I can do is stay here, breathe, wait, and let the promise of Rhett’s return steady me. Repeating my new mantra is the only way I’m going to survive his absence.
Rhett came for me when I needed him. And he’s coming back.
RHETT
24
My hands shake—notfrom fear, not from uncertainty, but pure fucking restraint that’s coiled so tight it burns through my veins. I curl my fingers around the handle of Noah’s suitcase, anything to try to ease the shaking. Fuck me. If I don’t get control of the anger coursing through my body, I don’t deserve to touch hers.
Noah needs me to be the calm in her storm. Nothing more, nothing less.Compose yourself, Rhett.Squeezing my eyes shut, I focus on my breathing. In for three, out for three. Finally, once I’m stable enough, I allow myself to return to her.
I already know this moment is going to live with me forever—walking back into this room and understanding, with bone-deep certainty, that there is no version of my life after tonight that doesn’t revolve around keeping my girl safe from what I failed to stop.
The door clicks shut behind me, but I can’t look at the bed where I left Noah. Not yet. Because I don’t trust myself not to fracture if I do. She deserves my strength.
Scrubbing my free hand down my face, I decide it’s time to man the fuck up and take a step closer. The sight of her hits me like a Mack truck, knocking the wind from my lungs. I knew something wasn’t right, and I didn’t do enough to stop her from going through with that wedding. This is all my fault.
Noah’s curled on the bed, robe pulled tight to her throat, white silk gathered in her fists like armor she doesn’t trust but refuses to let go of. Her body is folded inward, protective, small in a way that has nothing to do with size and everything to do with damage. Sage sits close, one hand steady at the base of Noah’s neck, thumb moving slowly in grounding circles like she’s lending her a heartbeat.
I won’t pretend to know what she’s going through right now. But if it’s anything like the bone-crunching pain hammering my body, how is she hanging on?
Just like always, she senses me before I can announce myself. Her eyes lock onto mine, and they hold me in place. Something tells me she’s scared I might disappear if she looks away for even a second.
“How’re ya doing, Starlet?” The suitcase slips from my hand and hits the floor near the dresser with a dull thud. I barely register the sound because I’m too focusedon the way her fingers tighten in the robe, silk whispering softly under her grip.
“Better now, cowboy.”
“Good to hear.” A soft, sympathetic smile tugs the corners of my mouth. I step closer, but don’t overcrowd her. “I got your belongings. Well, anything I could find.”
“Thanks.” Her breath stutters, then steadies again, shallow like she’s rationing air.
Sage rises without a word. Our eyes meet for a brief beat, and a thought overcomes me. How did I not notice the similarities between us before? We share the same facial features, more noticeable now that they’re clenched with a similar emotion—unfiltered rage.
Looking over her shoulder, she sneaks around to look at my heart lying beaten and bruised on the bed, then returns her gaze to mine. “Kade just texted.” Her voice lowers. “The rental car place opens in an hour. I’m going to go with him once I get back to our room.” Her arms are folded tight across her chest, jaw set. “I’ll leave you to it. Text if anything changes.”
I dip my chin in acknowledgment, and she heads for the door. It closes behind her with a click, and the space shifts immediately, the absence pressing in where she stood, leaving the room wider and heavier all at once. Noah’s shoulders tense, her breath hitching just enough that I feel it from where I’m standing, and that’s when I move to her. “I’m right here,” I assure her quietly,because she needs to hear it again now that there’s no one else in the room to reinforce it. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Her hand loosens on the robe and seeks mine out. Without hesitation, I intertwine my fingers with hers and gently squeeze. “I was thinking maybe I can run you a bath.” Keeping my voice low and steady, I reassure her, “Might help.”
She hesitates for a second, and I fear she might pull further in on herself, but then she exhales. “Yeah. Okay.”
I help her up slowly, my body angled just enough to give her space while still being there to catch her if her balance wavers—which it does, briefly. Her weight tips into me as if her body knows before her mind that she doesn’t have to do this alone.
I steady her without comment, one hand at her back, and we move together toward the bathroom. The robe slips slightly at her shoulder, and she pulls it closed again on instinct. I don’t look. I don’t comment. I guide her to the edge of the tub and help her sit, my hands staying on fabric, not skin, grounding rather than claiming. She gingerly perches there, shoulders drawn in, watching me like she’s afraid to look away.
“I’ll run the bath,” I tell her, keeping my voice even. “You just sit.” The sound of water hitting the tub fills the small space, and I test the temperature with my hand, adjusting it until it’s warm enough. I want the water tofeel like something she can sink into, not something she has to brace against.
I stay half turned, never fully putting my back to her. She tracks my every movement, like she needs to know exactly where I am at all times.
