Chapter 20
Chapter Twenty
Olivia
Rhett’s beautiful melody is interrupted by the timer on his phone. The brownies are ready. A wave of disappointment washes over me. I didn’t expect to be upset about an interruption that leads to delicious dessert, but here I am, feeling mopey we have to go eat brownies right now.
He rises from his chair and reaches out a shaky hand to me. As I zero in on his face, I think I see tears prick in his eyes, but he tilts his hat down subtly before leading me back to the kitchen.
Pulling two bowls from the cabinet and a knife from the drawer, he hands them to me. “I’ll let you do the honors.”
“Are you sure? I might just cut you a crumb and give myself the rest.”
He rolls his eyes. “No, you won’t. Just don’t give me too big of a piece.”
I glare at him. I have yet to see what’s underneath that t-shirt, but it fits his form well enough to suggest I would very much like what’s underneath. “Rhett, shut up! You could eat all of the brownies and the whole pint of ice cream and still have the body of a god. I’ll give you however much I please.” I cut him a slightly bigger piece than mine just to prove a point and slip it into his bowl.
“Thanks.”
I give him a nod as I take my piece. Something has shifted between us in the last five minutes. Maybe it was the fact that he willingly played guitar for me, or the fact that he offered to play a song he created. It was beautiful and vulnerable. He didn’t sing with this song, and he didn’t give me any backstory, but watching him play that song made me want to weep. I could see the muscles in Rhett’s jaw working as he played, suggesting that maybe the song evoked some deep emotions in him.
Seeing that vulnerable side of him made me want to absolutely melt, and now the air feels charged with electricity as if lightning is about to strike.
Rhett silently scoops us each a ball of ice cream and places it on top of the gooey chocolate brownies.
“Do you want to sit outside again? It’s a nice evening.”
“Yeah, I’d like that.”
We each take a spot in one of his patio chairs, and Maverick lazily follows us outside, quickly settling down in the grass off the edge of the patio. We sit in silence for several minutes, enjoying the mix of still-warm brownies juxtaposed with the smooth, cool ice cream.
Something about that song makes me think there’s so much more to Rhett than I realized hanging below the surface. Feeling desperate to learn more about him, I cut through the silence. “You didn’t tell me the name of the last song you played.”
“It doesn’t have a name.”
“What’s it about?”
“There aren’t any words.” He quickly fills his mouth with a heaping spoonful of brownie and ice cream.
“But you must’ve had something that inspired the song, right?”
“I guess so.”
“What was it?”
“It was about the moment I finally gave up on ever having love in my life.”
Silence falls over us instantly. I don’t know what to say to that. I want to encourage him not to give up. I want to hold him and make everything better. I want to do something to fix this, but I don’t know what to do or say.
Instead of pressing him further, I try a new strategy. Maybe if I stop holding back with him, he’ll stop holding back with me. “Can I tell you something personal?”
“Yeah, you can tell me anything.” He takes a bite of brownie, savoring it before furrowing his brow and adding, “But why?”
“I held back a bit after my panic attack, and I thought maybe it was time I tell you the full story.”
“Okay, what’s up?” He looks like one of the new dogs at the rescue, ready to bolt at any second.
“I mentioned my anxiety started to get worse during my freshman year of college. I think the peak was second semester. It was finals week, and I had this one class that I was struggling with. I realize now how ridiculous that sounds because I still had an A in the class, but I was on the cusp of a B, and the perfectionist in me was horrified. I was always very focused on my grades, even before I started pursuing a career path in the Big Four. It was just an expectation, set by both me and my parents, that I’d earn good grades and succeed.
“The final exam was a big chunk of our grade. I don’t even remember how much, but it was enough to easily change my A to a B. I studied so hard for that test. I started prepping way ahead of time, but the morning of the test, I was going over my flashcards again, and it was like everything I had studied just fell out of my brain. I couldn’t remember the answers to anything.”
I pause to take in Rhett’s expression. He’s leaned in toward me, completely invested in every word I have to say.
“Looking back on it, I’m sure it was just a combination of nerves and the fact I didn’t sleep much the night before, but either way, the knowledge wasn’t there, and I began to panic.” Even though this story is from about five years ago, my shoulders are slowly rising closer to my ears.
“I spiraled pretty quickly into one of the worst panic attacks I’ve ever had, and at the time, they were still relatively new. I didn’t have any tools to handle them, so it only made me freak out even more. I couldn’t breathe, and I was absolutely sobbing, so I did the only thing I could think to do. I called my mom.”
Noticing the way my whole body is reacting to the story, Rhett reaches out to me, pulling me from my seat and into his arms. As I melt against him and allow his warm, strong arms, to surround me, I feel as if this is where I’m meant to spend the rest of my life. I feel safe. I feel comforted.
Maverick noses his way between us, growing jealous of the fact that he’s not being included in the affection being given between his two favorite people. His wet nose against my bare thigh snaps me out of my lazily comforted state. “I’m not done. It gets worse.”
Rhett nods his head above mine, not allowing me to pull away. “You can keep talking, but you’re staying here while you do. I can’t take seeing you like this.”
What did I ever do to deserve being wrapped up in Rhett’s caring arms?
I take a deep sigh and summon the courage to continue. “My mom, being the amazing mom and woman that she is, answered the phone right away, even though she was about to go into one of the most important meetings of her life. She had been going through the motions in her career for years and had recently joined a start-up working on this big ocean conservation project a few months before all this. It was her dream come true. The meeting was supposed to be a pitch for the company that could clinch millions of dollars from key investors to fund the project. She had been preparing since the day she started, and the pitch was entirely riding on her. She had done all the research. She had created the presentation. I knew it was that day. I knew what time it was, but I was so stressed about my exam that I called her in tears without even thinking about the fact that she had her meeting right then.
“When I told her what was going on, she became so worried about me that she dropped everything to come to me. The office was only about ten minutes from campus, which of course felt like a lifetime to me. She held me and talked me through my breathing. Never once did she say a word about the meeting. I later found out she accidentally took the thumb drive with the presentation on it when she left the office, and she missed ten phone calls from her coworkers while she was with me. Without that drive, the company couldn’t do the presentation. They missed out on millions and were almost forced to shut down the project because of that incident, so they fired my mom. To this day, she still hasn’t said anything about it. She never blamed me. She just gave up her dream to help her pathetic, hyperventilating daughter, and she didn’t once complain about it or ever show that she held it against me.
“I carry around the guilt of knowing that my mom gave up her dreams for me, and I am determined to never let her, or my dad, do something like that again. I know parents are supposed to look out for their kids, to love them, to care for them, but this is another level. I can never forgive myself for that, and I know neither one of my parents would hesitate to do it again, so I need to protect them from me. I’m trying hard to let them back in now, but I’m still so terrified that I’m going to drag them down again someday.”
He strokes his hand gently over my head, smoothing my hair down. Then he laces his fingers in mine. I’m completely stunned by this display of affection. It’s amazing, and I’m terrified of doing something to make it stop.
“Thank you for sharing with me. I know that was hard, and I can tell it still tears you apart.” He pulls away slightly to look me in the eye. “I think you should talk with your mom about it. I know it wouldn’t be the easiest thing to do, but I think clearing the air will help you feel better. Your well-being is more important than any dream or any job, and I know your mom would agree with me. I guarantee she doesn’t resent you for that missed opportunity. She seems very happy here in Roots. Her life has turned out great even without that job.”
“Yeah, but she only came to Roots because I pushed her away. If I didn’t give her that space, she would still be in California, and I know she was never completely happy there.”
“You don’t know that. One thing we do know is that you called your mom because you needed her. I guarantee you’ll show up in the same way for your own kid someday. You can’t change the past. Trust me, I know firsthand. But you can try to be better moving forward, and your mom is still around to repair that relationship. Tell her you’re sorry for the role you played in getting her fired but recognize she’s an adult and she made the decision to be there for you because she wanted to. Don’t cut her out. That’s not fair either.”
His words swirl around in my head, and I feel a little overwhelmed. Everything he says makes sense, but it’s still so hard to accept it as the truth when my reality for years has been that everything was my fault, that my mom had been silently miserable because of me.
“You’re right. I need to talk with my mom.”
He smirks as he glances at the dark sky and then his phone. “You’re not going to do that now. It’s almost ten. Get some rest tonight, and you can talk with your mom tomorrow, or the next day. Or the one after that. You don’t need to rush it, but I think you will feel better when you talk with her.”
“How’d you get to be so wise?”
“Years of making mistakes.” He smiles, but I don’t miss the small wince in his eyes.
“Well, thanks for screwing up so much so that you could help me.” I chuckle, trying to lighten the mood.
I watch him as a hint of something crosses his face. He opens and closes his mouth, and I swear he’s going to finally share something with me too. Did my own vulnerability finally crack Rhett open?
When he opens his mouth again, he simply says, “Happy to help.”