Chapter 10 Rhett
RHETT
The final week of reunion events had taken on a different tone after Moses’s revelation. What had begun as nostalgic celebration shifted into something more complex, a community reckoning with its past mistakes, with secrets long buried, and with the human cost of protecting reputations over truth.
I sat on a wooden high-rise stool resting my elbows on a table in Timbers & Tallboys, nursing a cold beer and watching Moses work the bar.
He moved with quiet confidence, his interactions with customers warmer and more relaxed than I’d seen since arriving in Gomillion.
The weight of his twenty-year secret had lifted, and despite the messy fallout with his parents, he seemed lighter, more present.
Vanessa slid into the seat across from me, setting down two shot glasses of amber liquid. “Thought you might need this. Moses’s special reserve bourbon.”
“Thanks,” I said, raising the glass in a small toast before taking a sip. The bourbon was excellent, warm and complex with notes of caramel and spice. “How are things with your father?”
She grimaced, downing her own shot in one smooth motion.
“About what you’d expect. He’s convinced I’ve betrayed the family name, thrown my lot in with troublemakers.
Mom’s caught in the middle, as usual.” She shrugged, but I could see the hurt beneath her casual demeanor.
“They’ll come around eventually. Or they won’t.
Either way, I can live with my choices.”
“You did the right thing,” I told her, meaning it. “Standing with Moses.”
Our conversation was interrupted by a commotion at the entrance, a group of alumni arriving for the meet-and-greet that Moses and Bronwyn had organized for those who wanted to spend more time in Gomillion after the official reunion events.
The party had been planned months ago, but after everything that had happened, Moses had considered canceling it.
I’d encouraged him to go ahead with it, suggesting that a low-key social gathering might be exactly what everyone needed, a chance to connect without the pressure of formal reunion events.
Moses caught my eye across the room, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth as he nodded toward the new arrivals. I smiled back, still marveling at how easily we’d fallen back into sync after twenty years apart, how natural it felt to communicate without words.
Bronwyn appeared at my side, clipboard in hand. “Everything’s set up in the square for tomorrow. Tables, chairs, catering. The mayor’s office even approved the permit without a fuss, which I suspect is his version of an olive branch.”
“Or damage control,” Vanessa suggested dryly.
“Either way, we’ll take it,” Bronwyn replied, checking something off her list. “Rhett, are you still good to help Moses run the gin tasting station?”
“Absolutely,” I confirmed. “Wouldn’t miss it.”
The meet-and-greet in the town square had been Moses’s idea, a casual gathering for anyone who wanted to spend a final day in Gomillion before dispersing back to their respective lives. After the tension of the past week, it felt like a gentle way to close the reunion chapter.
“Excellent. I’ll leave you two to your plotting then,” Bronwyn said, already moving toward the next item on her endless list of tasks.
“She’s formidable,” I commented, watching her efficiently direct the staff while simultaneously greeting customers.
“You have no idea,” Vanessa laughed. “She’s been Moses’s rock through all of this. When he first came back to town to help convert the hardware store into this place, half the town wouldn’t speak to him. Bronwyn shut that down real quick.”
“I didn’t know that,” I said, a pang of regret hitting me at the reminder of how isolated Moses had been, even when he’d tried to reconnect with his hometown.
“There’s a lot you don’t know,” Vanessa said, not unkindly. “Twenty years is a long time.”
“We’re making up for lost time,” I assured her, but her words had struck a chord.
There were significant gaps in my knowledge of Moses’s life post-Gomillion.
While we’d reconnected emotionally and physically with surprising ease, we still had years of experiences to share, stories to tell, paths to reconcile.
“Speaking of which,” Vanessa said, a mischievous glint entering her eye, “what’s the plan after reunion week ends? You go back to Boston, he goes back to Atlanta, and you what? Pine for each other across state lines?”
The question hit close to the ideas I’d been mulling over but hadn’t yet shared with Moses. “Actually, I’ve been considering a change,” I admitted. “My firm in Boston is great, but I’ve been feeling restless. Thinking about scaling back, focusing on smaller, more personal projects.”
“In Atlanta, perhaps?” Vanessa suggested innocently.
I smiled, not confirming or denying. “We’re still figuring things out. But I’m not willing to lose him again, that much I know.”
“Good,” she said with surprising fierceness. “He deserves someone who’s all in, who sees his worth and fights for him.”
“I intend to,” I promised, and meant it.
The evening progressed pleasantly, the bar filling with classmates and locals alike.
I observed Moses in his element, mixing drinks, sharing stories, his laugh coming more freely than I’d heard since arriving in Gomillion.
Several times I caught him looking my way, his expression softening whenever our eyes met.
As the crowd thinned later in the night, Moses made his way to my table, sliding into the chair Vanessa had vacated earlier.
“Successful night?” I asked, reaching across to take his hand.
“Better than I expected,” he admitted. “No angry confrontations, no awkward questions about the Hayes situation. Just people enjoying themselves.”
“Turns out most folks are more interested in good drinks and good company than town scandals,” I observed. “Who knew?”
Moses chuckled, the sound warming something inside me. “There were a few cold shoulders, but not as many as I anticipated. And several people actually apologized for believing the worst of me all those years ago.”
“Good,” I said, squeezing his hand. “They should.”
He shrugged, the gesture so quintessentially Moses, deflecting praise or vindication with the same casual dismissal he’d once used for criticism. “It’s a small town. People believe what’s convenient, what fits their worldview.”
“That doesn’t make it right,” I insisted.
“No,” he agreed, “but it makes it understandable. And forgivable, at least for most.”
His capacity for grace, even after everything he’d endured, never ceased to amaze me. “You’re a better person than I am,” I told him. “I’d be holding grudges until the end of time.”
Moses laughed outright at that. “No, you wouldn’t. You’re too practical for extended grudges. They’re exhausting to maintain.”
I couldn’t argue with that assessment. Despite initial anger at those who’d wronged Moses, I found myself focused more on our future than on settling old scores.
“Fair point. Speaking of practical matters, are we still on for staying an extra day after tomorrow’s event?
I’d like to show you something before we head back. ”
Curiosity flickered in his eyes. “Mysterious. But yes, I’ve got Bronwyn covering the bar. What are you planning?”
“You’ll see,” I replied enigmatically. “Just trust me.”
His expression softened. “I do. Implicitly.”
Those three simple words carried the weight of our shared history, of twenty years of separation, of the trust rebuilt in a matter of days. I leaned across the table, pressing a brief kiss to his lips, no longer concerned about who might see or what they might think.
“Get a room,” Bronwyn called good-naturedly as she passed, carrying a tray of empty glasses.
“Already have one,” I called back without missing a beat. “The Presidential Suite at Mill Creek Inn. It’s quite impressive.”
Moses shook his head, a flush creeping up his neck that I found endlessly endearing. “She’s going to be insufferable now,” he muttered, but the smile playing at his lips belied any real annoyance.
“Worth it,” I decided, rising from my seat. “Need help closing up?”
We fell into an easy rhythm, Moses behind the bar handling inventory while I helped Bronwyn and the staff clear tables and stack chairs. By the time we finished, it was well past midnight, the streets of Gomillion quiet and empty as we walked back to my hotel.
“Nervous about tomorrow?” I asked as we strolled hand in hand, enjoying the warm night air.
Moses considered the question. “Not nervous, exactly. More... apprehensive. It’s one thing to face down the Hayes family and tell my truth. It’s another to voluntarily put myself in the spotlight, hosting a public event right after all that drama.”
“We are all right here with you,” I reminded him.
He nodded his head firmly. “This is important. Not just for me, but for the town. A chance to move forward, to show that Gomillion is more than its scandals and secrets.”
I squeezed his hand, overwhelming affection welling up inside me. “When did you get so wise?”
“Somewhere between mixing my thousandth Old Fashioned and having my life implode spectacularly,” he replied dryly. “Turns out, perspective comes free with public humiliation.”
I laughed, delighted as always by his sharp wit. “Well, I for one am grateful for your wisdom, however you acquired it.”
At the hotel, we fell into bed with the easy familiarity of longtime lovers, despite our relationship being just days old in its current form.
Physical intimacy had never been our challenge, it was the emotional openness, the vulnerability that we were still learning to navigate.
But we were learning, growing closer with each conversation, each shared experience.
Morning came too quickly, sunlight streaming through the curtains we’d forgotten to close fully. Moses was already awake, sitting on the edge of the bed, phone in hand.
“Everything okay?” I asked, voice still rough with sleep.