Chapter 20 Rhett
RHETT
The reception is already in full swing when I walk in.
Music spills through the space, the kind of sound that expects participation. Glasses clink. Chairs scrape. Laughter breaks out in bursts that feel sharp against my skin. The room is full of bodies shifting and converging, everyone moving like they know exactly where they’re meant to be.
I don’t.
Stopping just inside the doorway, I’m caught between the noise and the exit, my body refusing to pick a direction.
My chest tightens, breath stalling halfway in, like my lungs can’t decide how much of this they’re willing to take.
If I leave now, I’d be giving Bradley the satisfaction of knowing his invitation actually did what he intended it to do—break me.
So, instead, I straighten my shoulders, tilt my gaze forward, and act like I have a fucking right to be here.
People brush past me, hands grazing my arm, my shoulder, close enough to register but not enough to notice. To them, I’m just another guest finding his place. At my sides, my hands curl into fists then loosen again. Shoving them into my pockets, I ground myself. I’m unraveling at the seams.
Standing still draws attention, so I weave my way along the edge of the room where the light is softer and the guests thin.
My fingers curl tight around the polished wood of a high table.
The surface is cool under my palms, and I lean into it without meaning to, shoulders rounding just enough to take some of the weight off my chest.
The room revolves around me as I stare at the dance floor without really seeing it, my focus slipping in and out, my mind struggling to stay anchored.
A laugh cuts sharp and sudden, and my jaw locks in response.
The motion of my swallow is rough but useless.
Heat builds behind my eyes. It’s subtle at first, a faint tremor that runs through my hands like my body is misfiring, sending signals it doesn’t know how to process.
I curl my grip tighter on the table’s edge. It anchors me.
Maybe I should leave. The thought comes like a solution offered too late. But I don’t move. Because if I go now, it feels too final. Like I’m admitting there’s nothing left to wait for.
A flash of memory cuts in without warning. Noah’s face in the aisle, that half-second where everything hung between us, the way her eyes held mine before she let go. It hits harder here, without the ceremony to contain it.
The finality settles like fucking concrete. It’s permanent, hardening until it won’t budge, no matter how forcefully I push against it. This is what letting go feels like—standing in the middle of a celebration, realizing there’s nowhere left to put what I’m carrying.
Movement enters my peripheral vision, close enough to pull me back into the noise, whether I’m ready or not.
“Dance with me.” Sage pulls me into the fray before I can talk myself out of it.
Her fingers close around my wrist, and my body follows because standing still in this room feels like the fastest way for me to come apart.
The music is too loud, bass rolling through the floor, rattling my bones.
I move because I don’t trust what would happen if I stop.
Sage’s hand settles on my shoulder. It holds a familiarity that eases me. She doesn’t smile, just tilts her head instead, eyes narrowing slightly as she studies my face like she’s checking for cracks. “You look like shit.”
Air pushes out of my lungs in something that almost passes for a half laugh, half scoff. “I can guarantee I feel worse.”
“Maybe so. But I’m proud of you for doing the damn thing. I can’t imagine that was easy.” She shifts her stance so we’re moving in time with each other.
“Not exactly.” My gaze narrows over her shoulder, and the room opens up until all I see is a life I could have had.
Kade is dancing with Noah. His hand rests easily at her waist. She’s laughing at something he says, head tipped toward him, body loose in a way it hasn’t been all day.
My heart splinters in my chest, sharp enough that I have to adjust my footing to keep it from showing. Sage follows my line of sight—a quiet acknowledgment in the way her grip firms just slightly. “You okay?”
My jaw tightens, but I nod. “I’m upright.” The pressure doesn’t leave. It stays right where it is.
“That wasn’t the question.” We keep moving, but I’m suddenly aware of how many people are packed around us, and how exposed I feel under the lights. Like if I lose focus for even a second, everything I’m holding back is going to spill out onto the floor between us.
“Honestly?” I raise a brow. “I don’t know what comes now. After this.”
She doesn’t answer right away. The pause stretches just long enough to matter. “You don’t have to figure it out tonight.”
“Kinda feels like I should.”
Her gaze drifts past me again, back to Noah, and lingers there for a beat before returning to my face.
“Well, I didn’t want to push.” Hesitation fills the space between us.
“Not with everything you’re going through.
But if you’re looking for a distraction, when we get back to Black River we should probably talk about what we learned. ”
I was wondering how long it would take her to unearth the thing I've been actively avoiding since I saw my name on that birth certificate. “I’d rather not.”
She pauses, then huffs out, “Rhett. We can’t ignore it forever. We’re family. And like it or not, you’re the only one I have left.”
I don’t know whether I’m ready to divulge that I have no claim to the Rivers name or that my mother cheated on who I thought was my father, but I’ve always felt protective over Sage.
She needs this maybe more than I do. I can’t let her down.
“Fine. We’ll talk but I’m doing this for you, Sage. Not me.”
Her hand grips on my shoulder like she’s locking it in. Then she guides us through another turn, smooth and unremarkable, like nothing heavy was just set between us.
While we continue to dance, from a few feet away, Kade’s eyes find mine, and that’s how I know what he does next is intentional.
Noah turns with him easily, her body following the guidance of his hand at her waist, the movement smooth enough that no one watching would spot what’s about to happen, and then his grip loosens at the exact second her momentum carries her past him.
She doesn’t realize she’s been released until she isn’t where she expects to be.
I spin Sage into Kade’s waiting arms, and my hand catches Noah mid-turn.
Fingers firm at her waist, I draw her closer before her balance slips.
The sound she makes when her body collides with mine isn’t loud, but it lands hard all the same, breath knocked loose.
Her palm flies to my shoulder and holds on like she needs something solid to keep her upright.
For half a second, she just stares at me, shock cutting through her expression before she has time to gather herself.
The song shifts around us without announcement, bleeding into something slower, heavier, the kind of melody that sinks instead of floats, and when the first line threads through the noise—something about how broken hearts are supposed to hurt—it feels personal in a way it has no right to.
I don’t step back. If I do, she’ll take the space and run with it, so I keep her where she is, one hand steady at her waist, the other settling at her back as if this is still the dance she agreed to, as if the ring flashing on her finger when she tightens her grip doesn’t change anything.
With my lips hovering closer to her ear, I tell her exactly what I’m thinking. “Blue ain’t your color, Noah.”
Her brow furrows and her gaze drops to the dress, fingers brushing the fabric like she’s looking for something wrong she can fix, and the breath that leaves me isn’t quite a laugh, more a sound dragged from my chest.
“Not talkin’ about the gown,” I grit, knowing she has to hear me whether she wants to or not. “It’s the way you’re standin’ here, knowing you’ve made the worst mistake of your life.”
The reaction is immediate, even if she tries to hide it, her body goes rigid against mine, shoulders locking down as if she can brace her way out of what I just said.
When her eyes lift back to my observant gaze, there’s defiance there, sharp and wounded and furious, telling me I don’t know a damn thing.
“I’m sorry for hurting you, Rhett. It was never my intention. ”
My head tilts, studying her the way I always have, like I’m trying to see what’s still there beneath the years, the distance, the ring she’s wearing like a line she’s daring me to cross.
“If you got everything you ever wanted”—not breaking eye contact, my voice lowers—“why do you look like a song that doesn’t ever wanna be sung?”
That one lands where I aimed it.
Her breath stutters, barely noticeable if you’re not looking for it, like something inside her just slipped and she’s scrambling to keep it from showing.
“If your life is everything you hoped it would be,” I continue, even though my chest is starting to burn, “why did you look at me in the rearview like your future’s somethin’ you’re already afraid of?”
The room keeps moving around us, music swelling, people laughing and swaying and celebrating, but Noah goes still in my arms, not frozen, not panicked—just caught.
As the song comes to a close, I spot Bradley approaching, two flutes of champagne in hand. Knowing this might be the last time I have the chance to get the closure I need, my lips press to her forehead. “Goodbye, Starlet. I’m finally letting you go like I should have a long time ago.”
Bradley cuts between us, handing Noah one of the glasses. His eyes narrow on me. “Hope you got that out of your system. It’s the last time you’ll ever have your hands on my wife.”
Noah tenses as her husband claims her with a hand to her lower back. It takes everything in me to be the bigger man and control my composure. “Congratulations. I hope you know the value of what you’re holding.” And with that, I turn on my heel and make my way to the hotel bar.
I need a fuckin’ drink.