Chapter 9
MOSES
The morning after the statue unveiling, I woke to the sound of my phone buzzing incessantly on the nightstand.
Rhett’s arm was draped across my chest, his breathing still deep and even in sleep.
I carefully extracted myself from his embrace, grabbing the phone and slipping into the bathroom to avoid disturbing him.
Fifteen missed calls. Twenty-seven text messages. Dozens of social media notifications. Headlines from local news outlets.
HAYES SCANDAL ROCKS GOMILLION
REUNION REVELATION: STATUE VANDAL INNOCENT
MAYORAL SON ACCUSED OF BLACKMAIL
My stomach twisted itself into knots as I scrolled through the notifications. What had seemed like the right decision yesterday, a necessary unburdening after twenty years of silence, now felt overwhelming in its consequences. Not just for me, but for everyone involved.
A text from Bronwyn caught my eye:
Bar’s getting calls from reporters. Should I comment or state no comment?
I quickly typed back: No comment for now. I’ll be there in an hour.
Next was a voicemail from my father, the first communication we’d had in nearly a year. His voice was strained, formal, the Southern politeness he retreated to when uncomfortable.
“Moses, this is your father. I saw the news about what happened at the reunion. Your mother and I would appreciate a call when you have a moment. We... we have some things to discuss.”
The bathroom door opened, revealing a sleepy-eyed Rhett in boxers and nothing else, his hair adorably mussed. “Everything okay? You disappeared.”
I showed him my phone screen. “The story’s blown up. It’s all over the local news, social media. My father called.”
Rhett’s expression sharpened, sleep falling away as he processed the information. “What did he say?”
“Wants me to call. Says they have ‘things to discuss.’” I couldn’t keep the wariness from my voice.
My relationship with my parents had been strained ever since I’d come out to them five years ago, a belated confession that had been met with uncomfortable silence followed by determined attempts to set me up with the daughters of their friends.
Rhett moved closer, resting his hands on my shoulders. “Do you want to call them now? I can give you privacy.”
I shook my head. “I need to get to the bar first, deal with the media situation. Bronwyn’s being bombarded with calls.”
“Then I’m coming with you,” he said, the certainty in his voice leaving no room for argument. “We’re in this together, remember?”
The simple declaration warmed something inside me that had been cold for too long. I leaned into him, forehead resting against his chest, allowing myself a moment of vulnerability I rarely permitted. “Thank you.”
We showered and dressed quickly, opting to grab coffee on the way rather than risk the hotel restaurant where we’d likely be accosted by curious fellow guests.
The moment we stepped outside, the difference in atmosphere was palpable, people on the street turning to look, conversations halting briefly as we passed.
Not quite hostile, but definitely aware.
“Famous in all the wrong ways,” I muttered as we hurried toward Timbers retract or be disowned.
I was still staring at the letter when the office door opened, and Rhett returned, his expression shifting instantly to concern when he saw my face.
“What is it? What did she say?” he asked, crossing to me in two quick strides.
Wordlessly, I handed him the letter. His face darkened as he read it, jaw tightening with barely controlled anger.
“They can’t be serious,” he finally said, his voice tight. “Even after everything that came out yesterday, they’re still taking Mayor Hayes and Soren’s side?”
“They’ve always been more concerned with appearances than truth,” I replied, surprised by how steady my voice sounded despite the turmoil inside.
“The Hayes family has been their social connection to Gomillion’s elite for decades.
My father’s business depends on those connections.
It’s just how Vanessa’s family are too.”
Rhett crouched beside my chair, taking my hands in his. “I’m sorry. You don’t deserve this.”
“Don’t I?” I laughed bitterly. “I’m the one who stayed silent for twenty years. I let everyone believe the worst of me rather than face the truth. Maybe this is exactly what I deserve.”
“No,” Rhett said firmly, his grip on my hands tightening. “You were a scared young adult faced with an impossible choice. What Soren did, what your parents are doing now, those are choices made by people who knew better, who had power and used it to hurt others.”
His certainty, his unwavering support, steadied me. I took a deep breath, feeling something resolve inside me.
“I’m not retracting anything,” I said, the decision crystallizing as I spoke. “If my father wants to disown me, so be it. I’m done living my life to protect people who don’t deserve protection.”
Pride shone in Rhett’s eyes. “What do you want to do about the reporters outside?”
I considered my options. Part of me wanted to hide away, to let the story blow over without further comment from me. But the larger part, the part that had finally found its voice after decades of silence, refused to retreat into the shadows.
“I’ll make a statement,” I decided. “Simple, direct, no accusations beyond what we already know to be true. And then I’m done. This story isn’t my whole life, and I won’t let it become that.”
Rhett nodded, helping me to my feet. “I’ll be right beside you.”
“I know,” I said, and meant it.
Bronwyn helped us draft a brief statement, her PR instincts proving invaluable. When we were satisfied with the wording, I took a moment to compose myself before heading out to face the small crowd of reporters still waiting outside.
Standing on the wooden steps of Timbers & Tallboys, with Rhett’s solid presence beside me, I read from the prepared statement:
“Twenty years ago, I confessed to vandalizing the Paul Bunyan statue to protect myself and others from threats made by Soren Hayes.
Yesterday, I chose to tell the truth about what really happened that night.
I did not vandalize the statue. I did, however, witness Soren Hayes shouting at a mystery person who quickly ran from the scene in front of the destroyed statue whilst in a state of anger.
He then used blackmail to coerce my silence and my false confession.