The thought of meeting six strangers who think I'm someone I'm not makes my anxiety spike. But hiding in this cottage on my first night feels like giving up before I've even started.
"I'll come to dinner," I hear myself say. "Might as well rip the band-aid off."
Rhett's lips quirk in what might be the start of a smile. "Brave. I like that."
He heads for the door, then pauses with his hand on the knob. "Claire? I'm glad you came. I know that probably doesn't mean much right now, but... I'm glad."
He leaves before I can respond, the door clicking softly shut behind him.
I stand in the middle of my new temporary home, surrounded by borrowed furniture and artificial welcome, and wonder what the hell I've gotten myself into. This man is a complete stranger. I don't know his favorite color, his childhood dreams, what makes him laugh or what keeps him up at night. I don't know if he's kind or cruel, patient or quick to anger, someone I could actually build a life with or just another mistake in a long line of them.
But I know he's alone, like me. And I know he prepared this cottage with care, like someone who wanted me to feel safe. And I know that when he said my scar didn't bother him, there was nothing but sincerity in his eyes.
Maybe that's enough to start with.
Maybe.
I unzip my duffel bag and pull out my father's watch, running my thumb over the worn leather strap. "I hope I'm doing the right thing, Dad," I whisper to the empty room. "I hope you'd understand."
The watch doesn't answer, of course. But the afternoon light streaming through the curtains feels warm, and through the window I can see those endless rolling hills, and for the first time in two years, I feel something that might be hope.
It's terrifying.
But I'll take it.
Chapter 3 - Rhett
I make it exactly three steps away from Claire's cottage before the panic sets in.
What the fuck did I just do? Should I have stayed? Offered to show her around the ranch? Given her more information about dinner, about my brothers, about literally anything that might help her feel less like she just stepped into the twilight zone?
But no, I just said "I'm glad you came" like some kind of creepy robot and left her standing there looking lost and small and terrified in a cottage that probably feels more like a prison than a home.
I'm such an idiot.
The buzzing in my ear ramps up as I walk toward my own cottage, my hands shaking slightly as I shove them in my pockets. Two hours until dinner. Two hours to figure out how to introduce Claire to my brothers without everyone immediately seeing through my bullshit story. Two hours to prepare her for meeting six people who are going to have questions I don't have good answers for.
Two hours to somehow transform into a man who knows what the hell he's doing instead of a desperate asshole who hired a mail order bride.
I unlock my door and step inside, immediately stripping off my shirt because the fabric feels suffocating against my skin. The burn scar on my shoulder catches in my peripheral vision, and I force myself not to look at it. Not now. I can’t spiral about my physical damage when I'm already spiraling about everything else.
My cottage is smaller than Claire's, more cluttered. Papers scattered across the coffee table, empty coffee mugs onevery surface, my laptop open on the kitchen counter with spreadsheets still glowing on the screen. It's the home of someone who works too much and lives too little, and the contrast with Claire's space makes me feel even worse.
She's going to think I'm a slob. Or worse, she's going to realize I put effort into her cottage but not my own because I'm so fucking desperate for her to stay that I'll do anything to make it work.
Which is true, but she doesn't need to know that yet.
I grab my phone and stare at it, wondering if I should text her. *Hey, you doing okay? Need anything? Sorry I'm a socially incompetent disaster?*
No. That's pathetic. She needs space, and I need to give it to her. Even though every instinct I have is screaming at me to go back there and make sure she hasn't already called a cab to take her back to the bus station.
Instead, I open the group chat with my brothers. Thirty-seven unread messages, most of them stupid jokes and ranch updates. I scroll through until I find the relevant part:
**Colt:** *Heard Rhett's got a lady friend coming to visit*
**Wade:** *About damn time*
**Tucker:** *She's welcome at dinner tonight if she's up for it*
