Chapter 3
MOSES
I’d forgotten how exhausting small-town events could be.
After the ice breaker, I’d retreated to my apartment above the bar, desperate for a moment of solitude after hours of forced smiles and careful answers.
My cheeks ached from maintaining a pleasant expression while fielding not-so-subtle inquiries about the references to “that night.”
Now, as I adjusted my navy blazer in the mirror of the gym’s restroom, I was preparing to do it all over again.
The welcome party, the official start of reunion week, promised to be even more crowded, even more intense than last night’s ice breaker.
And somehow, I’d been roped into emceeing a toast.
“You look like you’re preparing for your own execution,” Bronwyn commented, leaning against the doorframe with her arms crossed.
I grimaced at her reflection. “Close enough. Why did I agree to this again?”
“Because beneath that carefully cultivated cynicism beats the heart of a people-pleaser?” she suggested with a smirk. “Or because you still care what this town thinks of you, despite your protests to the contrary.”
“Neither.” I replied, turning to face her. “I agreed because you threatened to reveal my secret gin stash to the patrons.”
She laughed, the sound echoing off the tiled walls. “That too. But mostly because you need this, Moses. Closure. Catharsis. Whatever buzzword the therapists are using these days.”
I sighed, running a hand through my curls in a futile attempt to tame them. “What I need is a stiff drink and an early night. Not to be paraded in front of the same people who celebrated when I left town twenty years ago.”
“Not everyone celebrated,” Bronwyn countered softly. “Some of us missed you terribly.”
The sincerity in her voice caught me off guard. Bronwyn and I had been friends since childhood, but neither of us was particularly given to emotional declarations. I swallowed the sudden lump in my throat.
“Well, you’re stuck with me now,” I said lightly, adjusting my cuffs. “At least until the reunion’s over.”
Something flickered across her face, disappointment, perhaps, but she masked it quickly with her usual sardonic smile. “Speaking of being stuck with you, your 6.00 a.m. rendezvous with Rhett that has the rumor mill working overtime.”
I froze. “How did you..."
“Small town, big ears.” She shrugged. “Vanessa mentioned it. She seemed quite excited about the prospect of you two rekindling old flames.”
“There’s nothing to rekindle,” I said automatically, though the words rang hollow even to my own ears. “We’re just... clearing the air.”
“At the falls? At dawn?” Bronwyn raised a skeptical eyebrow. “The same falls where you two were allegedly caught in a compromising position the summer before senior year?”
Heat crawled up my neck. “That was a rumor.”
“Was it?” she challenged, her eyes knowing. “Because I distinctly remember you coming home that morning with wet clothes and the most disgustingly dreamy expression I’ve ever seen on your face.”
I opened my mouth to deny it, then closed it again. What was the point? Bronwyn had always seen through me.
“It doesn’t matter,” I said instead. “That was twenty years ago. We’re different people now.”
“Are you?” she mused. “Because from where I’m standing, you’re still the same Moses who runs when things get complicated, and he’s still the same Rhett who looks at you like you hung the moon.”
My heart gave a treacherous leap at her words, which I firmly squashed. “You’re delusional. Rhett’s just... curious. About what happened. That’s all.”
“If that helps you sleep at night,” Bronwyn said with a dismissive wave. “Now, are you ready to face the music, or do you need another five minutes to practice your ‘I’m totally fine’ face in the mirror?”
I shot her a look but followed her out of the restroom and into the bustling gym.
The welcome party was in full swing; the space transformed with twinkling lights and blue and gold decorations.
A dance floor had been set up in the center, already crowded with former classmates reliving their glory days to ‘90s hits.
At the makeshift stage, Principal Bushman adjusted the microphone, his booming voice carrying over the music as he announced the evening’s agenda. I scanned the crowd, ostensibly looking for familiar faces but really searching for one in particular.
I found him near the refreshment table, deep in conversation with a group of former debate team members. Rhett looked unfairly good in a charcoal gray suit that accentuated his broad shoulders, his hair styled in a way that made me want to run my fingers through it and mess it up.
As if sensing my gaze, he looked up, our eyes meeting across the crowded room. My breath caught as he offered a small, private smile that seemed reserved just for me. Twenty years melted away in an instant, and I was eighteen again, hopelessly enamored with the most captivating boy in Gomillion.
“Stop eye-fucking him from across the room and go talk to him,” Bronwyn muttered beside me.
I tore my gaze away, heat flooding my face. “I’m not, that’s not..."
“Save it for someone who doesn’t know you,” she interrupted. “But do it later. The principal’s about to call you up.”
Sure enough, the Principal Bushman’s voice cut through the chatter: “And now, I’d like to invite Moses Morley to the stage for our official welcome toast! Moses, where are you, son?”
A spotlight swung wildly around the room before settling on me, temporarily blinding me and drawing all eyes in my direction. Panic fluttered in my chest as I forced a smile and made my way to the stage, hyperaware of the whispers that followed in my wake.
“…the one who destroyed the statue..." “…heard he’s gay…” “…wonder if he and Rhett..."
I climbed the steps to the stage, accepting the microphone with a nod of thanks to the principal, who clapped me on the shoulder with more force than necessary before retreating to the side. Facing the sea of expectant faces, I took a deep breath.
“I know I’m not the most obvious choice for this toast,” I continued, aiming for self-deprecating humor. “Given my, uh, complicated history with Gomillion traditions.”
This drew more laughter, tension in the room easing slightly.
“But that’s what reunions are about, aren’t they? Confronting our past, seeing how far we’ve come, reconnecting with the people who knew us when we were still figuring out who we wanted to be.”
My eyes found Rhett in the crowd. He was watching me intently, his expression a mixture of curiosity and something warmer that made my heart race.
“Some of us took the long way around,” I admitted, unable to look away from him. “Some of us had to leave to find ourselves. But there’s something about this place that gets under your skin, that calls you back eventually.”
The room had gone quiet, everyone seeming to lean in to catch my words.
“So, here’s to Gomillion High,” I raised an imaginary glass, “to the memories we’ve made, the lessons we’ve learned, and to being exactly who we are, no apologies, no pretenses.”
A cheer went up from the crowd, glasses raised in response. I handed the microphone back to Principal Bushman, relief washing over me as I stepped away from the spotlight. As I descended the stairs, Vanessa caught my arm, pulling me into a quick hug.
“Nicely done,” she said, sounding genuinely impressed. “Very poetic. Very... authentic.”
The emphasis she placed on the last word made me uneasy. “Just saying what people wanted to hear, Nessa.”
She gave me a knowing look. “Were you? Because that sounded an awful lot like Moses Morley embracing his true self in front of the entire town.”
Before I could respond, another voice joined our conversation.
“I have to agree with Vanessa,” Rhett said, appearing at my side with two glasses of champagne. He offered one to me, which I accepted with what I hoped was a casual nod. “That was quite a toast. To authenticity, was it?”
The way he said it, lightly teasing but with a layer of significance underneath, made me flush.
“Something like that,” I muttered, taking a sip of champagne to avoid meeting his eyes.
“Well, I think it deserves another toast,” Rhett declared, raising his glass. “To Moses Morley’s authentic self, may we all be lucky enough to witness it.”
The warmth in his voice was unmistakable, as was the subtle emphasis on “witness.” The implication was clear: He knew. Maybe he’d always known. The question that remained was how many others did too.
I glanced around nervously, noticing several heads turned in our direction, conversations pausing as people observed our interaction with undisguised interest. Panic flared in my chest.
“I need some air,” I mumbled, already backing away. “Excuse me.”
I pushed through the crowd toward the nearest exit, ignoring the curious looks and whispered comments that followed. Outside, the cool night air hit my lungs like a balm, and I leaned against the brick wall, closing my eyes and focusing on steadying my breathing.
What was I doing? I’d come back to the reunion with a simple plan: face the past, make peace with it, and leave again with a clean slate. Instead, I was getting pulled back into the same whirlpool of emotions and complications that had driven me away in the first place.
And at the center of it all, as always, was Rhett.
The door clicked open beside me, and I didn’t need to look to know who it was. His cologne, expensive, subtle, with notes of sandalwood and something uniquely him, gave him away.
“You, okay?” Rhett asked quietly, leaning against the wall next to me, close enough that our shoulders almost touched.
“Fine,” I replied automatically. “Just needed some air.”
“Bullshit,” he said, but there was no heat in it. “You’re spiraling. I can practically hear the wheels turning in your head.”
I glanced at him, surprised by his perception. “How would you know?”
“I know you, Moses,” he said simply. “Better than you think. Better than you want me to.”
The certainty in his voice sent a shiver down my spine that had nothing to do with the cool night air.
“That was a long time ago,” I reminded him. “People change.”
“Some things don’t,” he countered, turning to face me fully.
“Like the way you bite the inside of your cheek when you’re nervous.
Or how you run your hand through your hair when you’re about to lie.
Or the fact that you’ve spent twenty years avoiding this town because you’re afraid of facing the truth. ”
His words hit too close to home, and I pushed off the wall, creating distance between us. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Don’t I?” he challenged, his eyes never leaving mine. “Then explain the pin, Moses. Explain why you have Soren Hayes’ school pin hidden in plain sight behind your bar.”
My heart hammered against my ribs. “It’s just a trinket Bronwyn picked up somewhere. It doesn’t mean anything.”
“Another lie,” Rhett said softly, taking a step toward me. “Your hand is in your hair again.”
I dropped my hand instantly, cursing my transparent tells. “What do you want from me, Rhett?”
“The truth,” he said simply. “After twenty years, don’t you think I deserve that much?”
The earnestness in his voice cut through my defenses. He was right. He did deserve the truth. But the truth was complicated, tangled up in promises made and secrets kept. If I told him what really happened that night, I’d be breaking a vow I made to protect not just myself, but him as well.
“I can’t,” I whispered, the admission painful. “Not yet.”
Disappointment flashed across his face, quickly masked. “The falls, then. Tomorrow morning. Will you at least give me that?”
I hesitated. Yellow Branch Falls held memories for us, intense, passionate memories that had haunted me for years. Going there with him was dangerous, a risk to the careful walls I’d built around my heart.
But looking at him now, his expression open and hopeful, I found I couldn’t refuse.
“Yeah.” I confirmed with a nod. “But I can’t promise you’ll like what you hear.”
A faint smile touched his lips. “I’ll take my chances.”
He reached out then, his fingers brushing mine so briefly I thought I might have imagined it. “Don’t disappear on me again, Moses. Not tonight, and not tomorrow.”
The touch sent electricity racing up my arm, familiar and exhilarating all at once. I swallowed hard, fighting the urge to entwine my fingers with his.
“I should get back,” I said instead, gesturing toward the door. “I’m supposed to be the responsible bar owner tonight.”
Rhett stepped back, giving me space. “Of course. I’ll see you inside.”
I nodded, turning to head back in, but paused with my hand on the door handle. “Rhett?”
“Yeah?”
“Your toast,” I said, unable to meet his eyes. “To my authentic self. Thank you for that.”
I didn’t wait for his response, slipping back inside before he could see the emotion I knew was written all over my face. The hall enveloped me, the music and chatter a stark contrast to the quiet intimacy of the moment we’d just shared.
As I made my way back to the bar, I spotted Vanessa watching me with knowing eyes.
She raised her glass in a silent toast, a small smile playing on her lips.
Across the room, I caught sight of Bronwyn giving me a similar look.
It seemed everyone could see what I was trying so hard to hide, that despite my best efforts, I was still hopelessly drawn to Rhett.
The night stretched on, a blur of drinks poured, and conversations navigated. I kept catching glimpses of Rhett across the room, laughing with former classmates, charming the teachers who had once adored him, and occasionally looking my way with an intensity that made my skin flush.
It was great to catch even some former familiar faces catching up. I’d seen Theo and Caden deep in conversation and even managed to take some time to catch up with Theo myself before the night rolled to a close.
I was mentally and emotionally exhausted by closing time. As I made my way back to my apartment above Timbers & Tallboys, I tried to prepare myself for what tomorrow would bring.
Yellow Branch Falls. Dawn. Rhett. The truth.
It was a combination that terrified and thrilled me in equal measure. After twenty years of running, of hiding behind half-truths and careful omissions, I was finally going to face the past. Whether I was ready for it or not remained to be seen.
But as I collapsed onto my bed, still fully clothed, one thought kept circling in my mind: Rhett’s toast to my “authentic self.” After all this time, all the walls I’d built and the distance I’d maintained, he still saw me, the real me, beneath the carefully constructed facade.
And despite everything, that recognition, that acceptance, felt like coming home.