Chapter 26
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Rhett
I’ve experienced bad mornings before. The kind that contain adrenaline and worry before I’ve even gotten a sip of coffee in me.
The morning after Rylan’s mother died. The morning I found out my father had died, even though I was only four at the time.
Those mornings are imprinted in my head forever.
But nothing compares to waking up to a slew of texts and calls from people I barely know, along with a few all-caps irate texts from my son. None of the messages make any sense.
“Ry?” I don’t even bother putting a shirt on before exiting my bedroom and calling for him. His footsteps hammer across the floor. He’s got a half-eaten piece of toast in his hands, but he’s wearing an intense frown. He points a finger in my face.
“Why the hell would you do that to Mary London, Dad?”
I check my watch, brain trying to fire. He should be at school. Tomorrow’s the last day before Christmas break. “Why aren’t you at school?”
“Focus! Why, Dad?” he barks at me.
I rear my head back. “Watch your tone, young man.”
But he doesn’t back down. “You publicly humiliate Mary London and you think I need to watch my tone? Seriously? You’re unbelievable.”
“Whoa.” I hold up my hands. “What are you talking about?”
Rylan shoves his phone in my face. I have to push it back an inch or two to make out the pictures he flips through with his thumb.
My eyes feel like they’re going to fall out of my head.
A picture of Mary London practically naked in my bed has me snatching the phone out of his hands and clutching it to my chest.
“Where did you get these?” Surprisingly, my voice is low and controlled, hopefully conveying how close to death my boy is if he had anything to do with spreading these pictures.
“Those are your pictures, right?” Rylan shoves my shoulder, shocking me. I have never laid a hand on my son. We don’t use fists when words suffice ninety-nine percent of the time.
“Hey.” I put my hand on his shoulder. “I didn’t do anything with these photos. These are private. Where did you get them?”
Rylan sighs, losing a bit of the wild look in his eyes. “They’re all over, Dad. Everyone has them! Half the guys in my class sent them to me late last night. Mary London must be freaking out right now.”
I swear to God my heart changes rhythm at the thought of Mary London seeing these private pictures spread around town. I’m one step away from a heart attack. How can this be happening?
“Holy shit,” I breathe.
“Yeah.” Rylan gently takes his phone back from me. “We have to do something.”
I lean against the wall and try to keep from spiraling. I need to call Mary London. I need to figure out how to delete these pictures.
“I don’t understand. Those pictures were on my phone. How could someone have gotten them?” I look to my teenager, hoping his generation has a better handle on security and phones and things going viral.
He shrugs. “Someone must have swiped them when you weren’t watching your phone. Do you ever set it down and walk away?”
“All the fuckin’ time!” My hands are gripping my hair. The bite of pain is the only thing tethering me to this hallway right now. I think about all the times I’ve left my phone lying around while on the jobsite. Anybody from my crew could have swiped it.
“You have a passcode on it though, right?” Rylan frowns.
“Yes, of course,” I grumble, pulling it out of my pajama pants pocket and handing it to him.
“Still my birthday?” His thumbs fly over the screen. “Yep.”
I snatch the phone back, the screen unlocked.
“So it’s got to be someone who knows your code.”
I shake my head, still overwhelmed and needing answers. “The only people who know my code are you and me.”
Rylan scratches his nose, looking unsure. “And Papaw…”
My eyes widen. My spine snaps straight and I shove off the wall. I don’t normally have a temper, seeing as how I’m always in a shit mood, but I feel it waking up right now. Hot and red and Papaw’s face stamped all over it.
“I’m gonna kill him.”
Papaw answers the door to his run-down shack of a house with a broad smile showing off his two missing teeth. “Mighty fine day we’re having.”
I grab his coveralls and push him against the inside wall of the house. The door flies from his hands and hits the wall on the other side. His bushy eyebrows go up into his hairline. He smells like cigarettes and bourbon.
“Oh, you think so, old man? How’s Mary London’s morning going?”
He grabs my wrists but can’t pull me off of him. We’re both breathing hard, and in the back of my head I know I need to ease off. Body-slamming an eighty-five-year-old man is uncalled for, no matter the circumstances.
“What the hell’s gotten into you, boy?”
I suck in a deep breath and ease up my grip. I stay in his space though. I want to see him lie straight to my face. “You tell me. You have anything to do with private photos of Mary London being stolen from my phone?”
He opens his mouth and then snaps it shut again. “Why’d I do a thing like that?”
I nearly laugh. “Because you’re a bitter old man who can’t let a disagreement go, even after several decades?”
He feigns ignorance for half a beat longer before losing the battle. His eyes light up with that old stubbornness I’ve come to expect from him. “That fucker Clayton thinks he’s better than us. He needed to see that his daughter’s no better than any two-bit whore.”
I can barely see straight. “Watch your fuckin’ mouth, old man. You speak about Mary London like that again and it’ll be the last time you speak. Are we clear?”
Papaw’s eyebrows push together, the obstinate light in his eyes dimming a fraction. “You love that girl or somethin’?”
I shake him, just enough to rattle some sense into his thick, alcohol-soaked brain.
“That girl is the best human I’ve ever met.
She cares about people and this town in a way you’ll never understand.
I love her, and if she will have anything to do with me after this stunt you pulled, I’m going to spend the rest of my life trying to get her to marry me. ”
Papaw is speechless for a minute. Then he bows his head, his too-long white hair flopping over his forehead. “Well now, I didn’t know that. Seemed like a good idea yesterday.”
I release his coveralls and step back before I do something stupid I can’t take back.
“Just like you to act first and think later. Stealing photos? Sending half-naked pictures of a woman to everyone to ruin her reputation? Really, Papaw? You’re the trash the Winthrops think you are.
” His head rises and he looks ready to argue with me.
“Clayton gives you shit because you are a drunk, Gunnar! Truth hurts, doesn’t it? ”
He snaps his jaw shut and then bows his head again. “I’m sorry, Rhett. I guess it sounded like a good thing yesterday but I can see today that it’s not.”
I shake my head, disappointment so thick in my chest I can’t pull a full breath in.
“That’s what you’ve always said. It’s not really an apology when you keep fucking up.
Over and over.” I step through the door.
I can’t spend one more second in this man’s company.
“You better think of a plan to make things right. You owe it to Mary London.”
I hightail it back home, intent on calling Mary London and seeing where she is today.
Given the circumstances, I hope she’s taken the day off from the boutique.
Rylan opens the door for me, questions on his lips about Papaw.
He takes one look at my face and decides not to open his mouth.
I pull out my phone to call Mary London, but a truck drives up our driveway, pulling my attention from my phone.
“Oh shit,” I whisper, looking out the front window to see Silas and Deuce getting out. They don’t saunter on over—they march—to hammer on my front door.
“Dad?” Rylan looks worried.
“Go upstairs, son. I’ll handle this.”
He shifts toward the stairs, but before he can climb them, I swing open the door. The sooner I can handle Silas and Deuce, the sooner I can get ahold of Mary London and try to make things right.
No sooner do I take in their pissed expressions than I find a fist flying at my face.
I don’t have time to duck or deflect. Silas’s fist smashes into my eye and everything explodes into stars.
I drop my phone and grab for my face. Rylan calls for me and rushes over.
Deuce steps into the house, and for half a second, I think he’s going for my son.
I step between them and push away the pain to focus on what’s happening right now.
The one eye’s already starting to swell, but I can still size up Deuce.
Deuce holds his hands up in peace. “Just stepping inside for some heat, bro.”
When it looks like he’s telling the truth, I spin to Silas who’s still on my doorstep, rubbing his knuckles and breathing hard.
“Not in front of my son.”
Silas makes an irritated face. “My hand doesn’t want to do that again anyway.” He shakes out his hand, then turns a lopsided grin to his friend. “I haven’t punched anyone since college.”
“It was a good one, dude!” Deuce hoots. Like I’m not standing right there sporting the black eye from the damn punch.
“I’ll get you some ice, Dad.” Rylan squeezes past me to head for the kitchen.
Silas gestures. “Mind if we come in and chat?”
“Most people lead with that.” I square my shoulders, ready for another swing.
Silas shrugs. “Most people don’t humiliate my sister.”
I step back and open the door wider, letting him in. He has a point. I deserve a black eye and worse. We all convene in the living room, Silas and Deuce on the couch, me and Rylan standing. I put a bag of frozen peas to my eye and clap Rylan on the shoulder in thanks.
“Why’d you do it?” Silas asks.
“Dad didn’t do it,” Rylan jumps in, eager to defend me.
I put my hand on his shoulder again. “It’s okay, son. I got this.” I turn to the two men. “I didn’t. I found out just now that it was my grandfather who stole the photos off my phone and spread them around.”
“Gunnar did this?” Deuce asks, incredulous. “Eighty-five-year-old Gunnar Price?”
I nod.
Silas understands immediately. “Because of his feud with my father.”
“Exactly.”
We all sit with that for a minute, digesting what all this means. Silas is the first to break the silence.
“So, you do love my sister?”
I toss the soggy bag of peas on the end table and shove my hands in my pockets to keep from reaching for my phone to call her right this second. “Yes, I do. Very much. In fact, before this fiasco, I was planning to talk to Rylan to see how he felt about me marrying her.”
Rylan lifts his head to give me a broad grin. “Hell yeah!”
Silas stands up and walks over to stand in front of me. I brace for another attack. Instead, he holds out his hand. I shake it, both of us somber.
“I’m sorry, bro. I was defending my sister’s honor when I thought you’d humiliated her on purpose.”
I shake my head. “I would never. I’m horrified also.”
Deuce hops to his feet. “This is really sweet, you two, but we need a plan. A really good fuckin’ plan.”
We all stare at him.
“What do you mean?”
Deuce straightens his tie, looking like he’s ready to head up a board meeting at a Fortune 500 company. “We need to strategize. Come up with a plan to salvage things. The damage has been done, so now we’re the cleanup crew.”
“He’s right,” Rylan says. “You need a way to apologize to Mary London. So over the top she’ll forgive you.”
I grimace. “Like, a public thing?”
Deuce grins and I could swear there’s more devil than angel in that man. “You have to do whatever it takes to win her back. Are you man enough to try?”
I think about my quiet little life here in Heaven. How I could have stayed a hermit for years and not missed a damn thing. But then Mary London showed up and charmed the hell out of me. Now I can’t envision a future without her starring in it. I look Deuce right in the eyes and square up.
“Hell yeah, I am.”
“You mean, heaven yeah, I am,” Silas says with a stupid wink.
Deuce cracks up and the tension breaks. We all have a seat around the dining table and try to come up with a plan.