When Forever Stays (The Forever Duet)

Fourteen

FOURTEEN

RHETT

I wake up drenched in a cold sweat and my covers on the floor as the remnants of last night’s nightmare fade away. I’ve had the dream for years, a dream I’ve asked God to take away from me so I can at least have some peace while I sleep. But His answer seems to be “wait.”

Before I even sit up, my legs bounce with nervous energy. I hop out of bed, slide on my running shorts and shoes, and head out the front door.

I haven’t been for a run in a while. As much as I want to sprint down the beach to burn off this anxious energy, my side is still tender, I sometimes still get dizzy, and my stitches are healing. So I force myself to take it slow.

As Dana's little bungalow comes into view, I’m again hit with conviction. I need to tell her. But if I tell her and I lose her…I don’t know what I’ll do.

We’ve been taking it slow. Each evening is laidback but still holds crackling tension like lightning brewing in a storm cloud. It’s been good, though, really getting to know her this time around. She’s an incredible woman with a heart for Jesus and her ministry.

Something about our time together last night felt monumental. We walked down the beach until we found the perfect spot to sit and look up at the stars. I’ll never forget the way she looked sitting on the sand under the moonlight, with a contented smile on her face as we listened to the ocean waves.

We enjoyed the tranquility of nature’s sounds for a few minutes before she gently cut through the silence. “You know, I grew up on the beach, but there’s something about Amber Island that just feels…”

“Like home,” I finished for her. She looked at me, eyebrows raised. “I feel it too. It’s why I’m here again. Chicago never felt like home, not really. I’ve always been drawn to the ocean.” Her gaze was fixed on me as if she was hanging onto my every word. It gave me the confidence to say, “Probably because a little siren had been calling for me.”

Her lips tilted up in a smile. It wasn’t flirty, but it still drew me in. Every cell in my body screamed to touch my mouth to hers, but I didn’t. I respect the lines she’s silently drawn and know the wait will be worth it. One day she’ll erase those lines and she’ll be mine. But first, I need to work up the courage to tell her the truth, to tell her everything. Even if facing the darkest parts of my past is the last thing I want to do.

I swallow the lump in my throat as the memory I see in my nightmares crashes into my thoughts. The sound of gunfire, the smell of black powder, the haze that came after, and the roaring in my head that morphed into a numbing silence.

Dizziness slams into me, and I realize I’ve taken off into a run. I slow down and lean forward, resting my hands on my knees, and breathe in deep. Slowly, I lift my head to try and combat the dizziness and stare out at the sparkling water, inhaling the salty ocean air.

“You need to tell her,” I say out loud, then shake my head.

I can’t lose what we have. It’s too good.

But I have to. We can’t move forward until I tell her everything.

Eventually, it will come out—I can’t hide who I am forever. It will be best if Dana learns it from me.

Standing up straight, I grip the back of my neck with both hands and close my eyes.

“Give me the courage to finally tell her. Please, Lord.”

With that simple prayer, I turn and head back to my hut.

I muster all my courage as I step into The Screaming Peach after the lunchtime rush. Dana stands alone behind the counter, her dark hair pulled into a ponytail that cascades down her back. When she turns to look at me, there’s a confidence that I haven’t seen from her before. As if she’s sure about us. Sure about me.

Her body language tells me she’s feeling good. If she is sure about us, she’ll accept what I have to say no matter what. So I approach her. The only patrons are browsing the books with their coffees already in hand, giving me the perfect opportunity to snag her unhindered attention. I'll take her out after her shift and tell her.

“Hey, Little Siren.”

I love how she looks at me as if I’m the only man she sees. As if I’m the only man who matters.

She bites her lip. “Hey, Rhett. What can I get you?”

You, I want to say but don’t . It’d probably be too bold right now. Instead, I say, “I’ll have a medium dark roast."

When I hand her my cash, she pushes it away. I stuff it into the tip jar, and she rolls her eyes before getting to work on my simple order. She tosses a few shy smiles over her shoulder during the process.

The bell over the door dings, and I scan the café and book area, finding they’re both cleared out. I could tell her after her shift. Or I can tell her now. Last night I failed to hold onto the courage to tell her everything. That courage is back in full force. Either way, I need to tell her now. It’s time to lay my past in front of her. To share the secrets I’ve kept in an effort to preserve our relationship.

When she finishes up my order and hands it over to me, her touch on my fingers lingers. I set my coffee on the counter and fully take her hand in mine. I try to gather all my thoughts, all the secrets I’ve kept from her. Once I tell her, there’s a really good chance she won’t look at me like this again. That she won’t allow me to hold her hand. Once she knows everything, our relationship will change. If it’s for the better or worse, only time will tell. I pray for the better.

I search her eyes, then release her hand and take a sip of my coffee. “Thanks.” It’s hot, but not too hot. The balance of flavors is everything any coffee drinker would love. I focus on the taste, grounding myself in this moment.

“Sure thing,” she answers. When she turns away, I catch another shy smile curving her soft lips.

“Dana,” I say, and she turns back.

The truth is poised and ready on the tip of my tongue. Her eyes sparkle with excitement, the trust I see there has me choking on the words. I can’t do it. I can’t tell her. I can’t ruin this…us.

“Did you need something else?” she asks.

“I wanted to tell you that I’ve really enjoyed getting to know you.” My courage deflates.

“Me too. This all feels…real. Not that what we had before wasn’t, but this time around feels deeper. You know? Almost like we didn’t get to know the real versions of each other, but now, I know the real Rhett Stryker and not just the flirty tennis instructor.”

A lead weight sinks deep down into my gut.

As if he was waiting for the perfect time to ruin this moment, Crew struts in and eyes me warily as I talk to Dana.

“Hey, Crew. How’s it going?” I ask.

“Fine,” he says, “Anything new with you?”

I shake my head. “Not really.”

Crew wastes no time turning to Dana and pulling his phone from his pocket. That lead weight in my gut feels ten times heavier. Ominous. He extends his phone, showing something to her. Her eyes study whatever is on the screen carefully.

Dana raises a brow at Crew. “Why are you showing me a picture of RJ Hemlock?”

Everything inside of me seizes. I need to speak up. Say something, anything, but my mind goes into panic mode, blanking out.

“Doesn’t he look familiar to you?” Crew asks, then glares at me.

“What do you mean?” She shakes her head.

“You don’t see it?” Crew asks.

“See what?” she asks, her tone annoyed.

“It’s him.” Crew grabs his phone out of Dana’s hands, and then places it next to my face. “See?” His voice raises. “RJ Hemlock of Phantom Echoes is Rhett Stryker, the man who ghosted you.”

Dana’s boss Lindsay must have heard us because she comes out of her office and walks over. She looks at Crew’s phone. “They definitely resemble each other.” Her gaze ping-pongs between the screen and my face. “Add some guyliner, lip piercings, long hair, and a beard, and that’s him.”

Dana glances at Lindsay, her expression one of disbelief. Then her expression morphs into a wide smile, and she laughs hard. “Right! You think RJ Hemlock is standing right here under my nose and I didn’t notice?!” She motions to the picture on Crew’s phone screen but the words appear to die on her lips as she focuses more on the picture. She looks back and forth until her face pales and her eyes are larger than saucers. It’d be comical if this was any other situation.

And that’s when the coffee grounds hit the fan.

“You’re not denying it,” Dana says, placing her hand on her chest. “Please deny it. Please don’t tell me I’ve been spending hours and hours with RJ Hemlock without even realizing it. Don’t tell me you’ve been lying to me from the moment we met .” Tears brim on her lower lash line.

I raise my hands in a placating gesture. “I can explain?—”

“So it’s true? You’re RJ Hemlock?”

The lead weight in my gut moves up to lodge in my throat, and I find it hard to breathe. My chest is tight, and it’s as if my conscience is saying, I told you so.

“That’s my stage name.” She opens her mouth as if she’s going to speak, but I need to explain before this becomes an even bigger mess. “Listen, it’s not like I?—”

“Don’t! Do not try and talk your way out of this. You lied to me.” Dana inhales a shaky breath. “I trusted you. I gave you my heart—” Her voice cracks on that last word.

The vice around my chest squeezes hard, and I back slowly toward the wall, praying that God allows it to open up and swallow me whole. So I don’t have to face the consequences of my deception.

“I didn’t lie to you.” The words are bitter, a twist on the truth. “I was going to?—”

“We’ve listened to Phantom Echoes every time you’ve come over and you said nothing!”

Frustration at myself simmers in my blood. “I had my reasons.” I run my hands through my hair and grip the back of my neck, attempting to come up with something, anything to make her understand. “I was going to tell you.”

“Really, Rhett? Really? Because you had every opportunity to tell me after you your memories returned. I could see in your eyes that you were holding something back. So please tell me, when were you planning to come clean and tell me who you really are?” Her movements are stilted, her eyes wild.

“What was I supposed to say? ‘Hey, that’s me singing?’ I wanted you to like me for me. For who I am now!” The words are out before I can think them through. This was never a concern with Dana even if it had been in my past.

Dana rears back as if I just slapped her. And it’s at that moment that everything falls apart between us. The moment our delicate bond cracks then shatters into too many pieces to put back together.

“Did you not realize I was already crazy about you? I laid my heart bare for you. I shared things with you I’ve never shared with anyone, not even my sister! You ghosting me was one thing, I could forgive that in time. But this? This betrayal has completely broken the trust I had in you. The belief I had in us. ”

My heart implodes. A chasm opens up in my chest, swallowing my heart and its tiny little pieces.

I gently grip her arm. “I’m sorry, Dana.”

She looks at me with a disgust I will never forget and pulls her arm free. “Sorry doesn’t cut it. What you did to me…” She purses her lips, cutting herself off. Tears stream down her cheeks, and I want to wipe away each and every one of them. Her nostrils flare as if another thought has entered her mind. “Are you married?” she asks and her question takes me completely off guard.

“Married? Who would I be married to?” My voice is strained.

Dana’s eyes search mine. “Oscar’s mom. I read an article about RJ Hemlock weeks ago, when you were in the hospital. It was a picture of RJ Hemlock— you — in a hospital and a woman the article claimed to be your wife standing beside you.”

“No.” My voice is firm. “I’m not married. The media uses anything they can to manipulate the truth. I can’t believe you’d even think?—”

“Yeah, well there’s a lot I never thought—” Dana shakes her head, covers her mouth with both hands, then sprints to the office.

Lindsay and Crew have remained uncharacteristically quiet. Before they can unleash their own fury on me, I see myself out of the café and head to my truck. Once I’m inside, I try to start the engine, but it doesn’t turn over. I pop the hood and get out, hoping it’s an easy fix.

Crew comes out and storms over to me. “Remember what I told you? A single sniffle and you’d be dealing with me.” He shoves me in the chest. “Everything inside of me wants to put you back in a hospital bed.” He pulls his fist back and swings.

I duck just in time and put my hands up. “I don’t blame you.”

It looks as though he’s winding up for another swing but stops. A menacing smile turns up his lips.

“You’re not worth it.” Then he backs slowly away, not turning from me until he’s opening the door to the café.

I’m clenching my fists so hard I can feel my short nails digging into my palms. After getting back into my truck, I slam the door and try the ignition. This time, it turns over, and I peel out of the parking lot, hating myself for breaking Dana Swann’s heart…again.

Less than a mile from my hut, smoke pours out of the hood of my truck. I can’t see a thing, so I look out my side window and pull over. I thought it was just being temperamental earlier. Clearly, I was wrong.

When I step out, the skies open, and it’s as if Dana has control of the weather and chose this moment to rain down her fury on me. Thunder cracks moments before lightning stretches across the sky. I go to open the door but discover my automatic locks kicked in, successfully locking my cell phone inside.

“Just perfect,” I mutter under my breath.

I start my trek down the road, praying that lightning doesn’t take me out before I make it home.

Several cars speed past, splashing me with dirty street water. It’s only been minutes, but it feels as if I’ve been trudging through this storm for years. How many times did I tell myself to tell Dana about my past? About who I am–or was?

I regret hiding my identity from Dana but I don’t regret hiding it from everyone at the resort. After being hounded by the media for years, pouring my soul into my music, and making the fans happy, I wanted a normal life. Which meant I needed to keep my identity to myself. Even though Amber Island is private, it didn’t mean my identity wouldn’t be used by someone with bad intentions and I’d be back to where I started. No one in my new life needed to know. But Dana deserved to. I was just too afraid to tell her, especially after she told me Phantom Echoes—my claim to fame—was her favorite band.

When I was in the band and living a life of sin, all I needed to do was share my stage name and women flocked to me. Then I met Dana, and we connected on a level deeper than I've connected with anyone before and I didn’t want to ruin it. It could have—would have—changed things once she realized who I once was. Would she be falling for me, Rhett Stryker? Or my famous persona, RJ Hemlock?

It was truly a miracle she didn’t recognize me from the start. And Dana liked me, Rhett Stryker, for me. I didn’t want her to look at me differently than she did. Now I don’t know if she’ll ever even look at me again.

I close my eyes, not caring if I trip or fall. Everything inside of me aches. Who I was and who I am are two completely different people. Will I ever live down my past as RJ Hemlock? Or will I exist in the shadow of my sins forever?

The only good that came out of that sinful lifestyle was my son. A son I didn't know existed until his mom called me out of nowhere, beyond desperate for hope. This wasn’t how I planned on having children, but my life has been a series of unexpected blessings and consequences. Which has proven to be even more true through my recent circumstances.

As the storm rains down on me, I open myself to every heartbreak I’ve ever felt, praying God uses this downpour to wash it all away.

It was raining the night I went to the hospital for surgery too. The rain was a big part of the song I wrote for Oscar. The song was unlike any other I’ve ever written or performed. I poured out everything I had, the love I didn’t know I could have for someone I barely knew. The gratefulness I feel knowing he’s healthy after a life-threatening illness. How much I want to build a relationship with him and make up for lost time.

But I haven’t heard a word. He hasn’t spoken to me since he woke up in the hospital and the doctors told him everything looked promising. Oscar turned on his side, faced me in my own hospital bed, and thanked me for donating part of my liver. Before I could even say “You’re welcome,” he had turned back over, put his earphones in, and completely ignored me.

I’ve called him for months and he refuses to talk to me. Despite sharing my DNA, Oscar is still a stranger. Someone I desperately want to get to know yet who hates me. I don’t know how to fix my relationship with him. Or how to fix my relationship with Dana.

I can’t tell if the wetness on my cheeks is from the rain or tears. Probably a mixture of both. I haven’t cried since my mom’s funeral, but if any moment warrants tears, I think this one does.

A car slows to a stop beside me. The mechanical sound of a window opening has me turning my head.

“Rhett? What are you doing walking out here alone in the rain? Are you lost?” Dr. Woodhouse says with genuine concern.

I shake my head.

“Get in.” He pushes the door open from the driver’s side.

“I don’t want to ruin your seats,” I find myself protesting.

“Forget my seats. I don’t want to see you back at the hospital with pneumonia.”

I relent, sliding into the car and closing the door.

He checks his mirrors and pulls back onto the road.

“Care to tell me why you’re wandering the streets while we’re in the middle of a tropical storm?”

“Well, I kept the fact that I’m the lead singer of Dana’s favorite band a secret from her since I met her and she just found out through Crew when I should have come clean a long time ago.”

“Why did you keep that a secret?” he asks.

There’s no reason to hold anything back. So I lay it all out there. How originally, I wanted to keep my anonymity with Dana like I did with everyone else. How I knew I should have come clean the moment I realized how important Dana had become to me in such a short time. But then I found out I had a son who was sick and needed part of my liver to survive. Only to end up having him hate me. Then coming back to Amber Island and falling in love with Dana all over again but too afraid to finally tell her the truth. I end with, “Not exactly a good way to kick off a relationship.” As if on cue, lightning flashes in the sky at the same time thunder roars. The wind howls louder.

“Neither is lying to the girl.”

If Dr. Woodhouse is surprised by this revelation or concerned about this worsening storm, his stoic expression doesn’t show it. We come to a four-way intersection and he stops. “Where am I taking you?”

I tell him which way to turn and give him the rest of the directions to my hut. As we continue to drive, I pray for our safety. Right now, the roads aren’t flooded, but I know from experience that conditions can change in an instant. Unfortunately, none of my prayers prepare me for what we find after making it down my driveway.

“It’s gone.” The pain I’ve had in my chest since watching Dana lock herself inside the office grows into a sharp, stabbing ache. My house was never anything spectacular, basically just a studio apartment on a beach. But it was home. My sanctuary. And all that’s left is rubble.

“Must have been a microburst of some kind,” Dr. Woodhouse says, staring at the destruction.

Rubbing my pulsing temples, I mumble, “Could this day get any worse?”

“Sure it could.” Dr. Woodhouse pats my shoulder, then looks behind us before turning the car around and heading back for the road. “You could have nowhere to stay.”

“I don’t have anywhere to stay,” I say, my frustration mounting.

“Sure you do. You’ll stay with me and Nancy as you weather this storm.”

Somehow, I know he’s not just talking about the storm raging outside.