Chapter 9 – Jael #2
I sigh. “My dad’s will which is the whole reason I came back here.
She didn’t want to go to the lawyer without me.
” I shake my head, already feeling the anxiety around seeing her again.
“I don’t know why she’s acting like a grieving widow.
She hated the man. Dad wasn’t around, and when he was, he treated her like shit, cheated on her, hit her and didn’t contribute much in the way of finances or love to our family.
” I shrug as I keep eating while Rhett watches me silently.
I wonder what he sees when he looks at me now and if I look different to him. That thought sends a wave of anxiety rippling through my core.
“Sometimes the way people grieve someone they lost doesn’t look the way we’d expect it to,” he says. “And sometimes, despite being angry with someone and feeling mistreated, you still miss them because you know they were broken themselves, doing the best they could to survive.”
I take a slow sip of my sweet tea, peeking over the rim at him, trying to decipher what he really means by that. Is he talking about me? Is he saying I hurt him, that he was angry at me and grieved me, but he knows that I was just doing my best to survive?
Before I can even think about asking him to clarify, he moves on, leaving the questions hanging in the air heavily between us.
“Is that going to be difficult for you?” he asks.
“Is what?”
“You know, revisiting your father’s last words and all that shit,” he says, waving a forkful of beans in the air.
I knew exactly what Rhett was asking. He’d been my neighbor, the one who’d seen too much—witnessed the things I endured when my father’s temper flared at its worst, and I was on the receiving end of his cruelty.
But I’m not in the mood to unpack all of that with him over pulled pork like this is normal.
I’d buried those memories deep inside of me, occasionally letting my therapist touch them, but mostly hoping I’d never have to confront the childhood wounds that have shaped my past.
I moved away. I moved on. I built a life for myself, one I’m damn proud of no thanks to parents who offered no support, not even the kind most twenty-somethings take for granted.
And that’s the thing: I didn’t just survive my upbringing.
I thrived despite it. I’ve become someone strong, someone capable, and I refuse to let my past define me any longer.
“It’s been ten years since I lived here and the same amount of time since I saw him last. I don't have any good memories of him. I feel nothing towards him anymore. I don’t think it’ll be too hard to sit down with a lawyer and hear that he had no money or anything nice to say to me before he died.”
He nods and thankfully doesn’t push forward.
“How’s your mom doing? I still haven’t had a chance to stop by and see her since I came back,” I ask, changing the subject to his family instead.
“She’s about the same. She’s taken on after-school care for a few young kids in the neighborhood, which is the primary reason I think she won’t move out of the park and come live with me, though I ask her to just about every week.
She said she feels connected to our little cul-de-sac and the children who live there. ”
“Do you think that’s true?”
Rhett shrugs. “I think so. You know the families that live in the park, hell we both came from them. Their home life isn’t good.
My mom gives them a sanctuary from that and structure.
Rules that aren’t just to break them, chores that teach them responsibility and hard work, and food to put in their bellies when their parents insist on spending that money on their selves. ”
His gaze flicks to mine, lingering just long enough for me to catch the flicker of doubt in his expression, like he’s wondering if he’s overstepped. But with Rhett and me, there were never really limits to what we could say to each other—at least, not until the end.
We’ve seen the messy parts of each other’s lives, carried the weight of secrets no one else knew. His mom had been my sanctuary once too and so had Rhett. Ignoring that now would feel dishonest, and unappreciative no matter how things ended between us.
“You know, she’s asked about you over the years,” he says softly.
I bite down on my lip and nod. Another reminder that I didn’t keep in touch with the good people who helped make me from this town. I know I was like a daughter to her, and she was the only caring, parent-like figure looking out for me.
“What have you told her?”
He shrugs. “Told her you were living your dreams.”
I nod, grateful that he didn’t tell her everything. About the way we ended and the ways I know I hurt him.
He leans back in the booth and stretches his arms overhead, twisting side to side before his lips twist up at the side into a smile. “Remember that time you scraped up your back when you fell off that metal swing?”
The rest of lunch shifts into lighter territory and Rhett has me laughing so hard I almost forget how awkward and heavy this reunion could have been.
He tells me about the chaos of starting his own business and the ridiculous antics of the guys that he’s hired, and I talk about how school went and how much I love working as a nurse.
I’d forgotten just how funny he is. How easily he can make the world feel a little less serious when we’re together.
For a while, I let myself forget about my disastrous date with Owen last week and the looming storm cloud that is Monday when I’ll have to face my mom for the first time in years and unpack my father’s last words.
By the time the clock hits five, hours spent catching up have passed, and the cashier at the counter calls out Rhett’s name, letting him know his to-go order for game night is ready.
“Well,” he says, rising from the booth, “I better grab that. I wouldn’t be surprised if the owner has already texted her granddaughter three updates by now.”
I laugh. “That sounds about right. Small towns never change, huh?”
He smirks, grabbing the big platter of sides and pulled pork then returns to the table. “Not even a little. But speaking of food, you’re still good for seven tonight, right?”
“Will you even be hungry again in two hours?” I tease.
He raises a brow. “Jael, is that even a question? You know me—I’m always hungry.”
I grin because, yeah, that part of him hasn’t changed. Not one bit.
He points a finger at me as he backs toward the door. “Seven o’clock. Lainey and Lark’s place. I’ll text you the address. You better be there.”
I shake my head with a small smile. “I’ll be there.”