Chapter 14 Moses #2
His honesty humbled me. Moses had always been the more guarded of the two of us, keeping his deeper emotions carefully contained. This level of openness represented tremendous growth, and trust.
“And now?” I asked. “Are you still afraid?”
“Terrified,” he admitted with a small laugh. “But not in the same way. Before, I was afraid of what might happen if I reached for what I wanted. Now, I’m more afraid of not reaching for it, of letting fear dictate my choices again, of missing out on what could be.”
The simple honesty of his answer moved me deeply. I leaned forward, resting my forehead against his in a gesture of intimacy and understanding.
“That’s progress,” I murmured. “That’s growth.”
“It is,” he agreed, his breath warm against my face. “Though I can’t take all the credit. Having you come back into my life, standing by me through the revelations about the statue, showing me this possible future, that’s been the catalyst.”
We stayed like that for a long moment, foreheads touching, the sound of the falls creating a private world around us. When Moses finally pulled back slightly, his eyes were clear and determined in the moonlight.
“There’s something I want to ask you,” he said, his tone shifting to something more formal. “A proposal, of sorts.”
My heart rate picked up at the word ‘proposal,’ though I knew he didn’t mean it in the traditional sense. “I’m listening.”
“Let’s set a deadline,” he suggested. “Three months from now. We spend that time visiting the property together when possible, exploring logistics, testing whether this idea of a shared country house is practical or just a beautiful dream.”
I nodded, following his reasoning. “A trial period.”
“More like a decision point,” he clarified. “If, after three months, we both still believe it could work, we move forward with making an offer on the house, or something similar if that specific property is no longer available. If not, we reevaluate, consider other possibilities.”
The proposal was so perfectly Moses, thoughtful, practical, allowing for hope while acknowledging potential obstacles. It respected both our enthusiasm and our legitimate concerns about making such a significant life change.
“I think that’s an excellent idea,” I agreed. “Three months of research, planning, and testing the waters before committing.”
Relief flickered across his features. “Good. I was worried you might see it as hesitation or doubt.”
“Not at all,” I assured him. “It’s sensible. And honestly, it gives us a framework for these next few months, a project to work on together, even when we’re physically apart.”
Moses smiled, clearly pleased by my understanding. “Exactly. A shared goal to keep us connected across the distance.”
The practical discussion had shifted the energy between us, grounding our romantic reconnection in real-world considerations.
Yet there was something deeply intimate about it too, this mutual commitment to exploring a future together, to making deliberate choices rather than just letting circumstances dictate our path.
“So,” I said, returning to a lighter tone, “what’s first on our long-distance relationship agenda? Weekly video calls? Alternating visits? Shared spreadsheets analyzing commute times and property values?”
Moses laughed, the sound echoing across the water. “All of the above, knowing us. Though I’d prioritize the visits over the spreadsheets, personally.”
“Agreed,” I said, sliding closer to him on our shared rock. “Though I do make extremely compelling spreadsheets.”
“I don’t doubt it,” he replied, his voice dropping to a lower register that sent a pleasant shiver through me despite the warm night.
We fell silent again, the conversation giving way to a comfortable quiet filled with the sounds of nature around us, water flowing, insects chirping, an occasional splash as a fish jumped in the pool below. The moonlight had shifted during our conversation, casting new patterns across the water.
Moses grins at me like the devil himself, then he strips down without a word.
I watch without saying a word. His boots are kicked aside, he pulls his shirt over his head, his jeans are shoved down.
My pulse spikes just watching him, his broad shoulders, scars that weren’t there before, the same cocky tilt of his mouth I’ve never been able to forget.
Then he jumps, the water exploding around him as he disappears into the pool below the falls.
I laugh, shaking my head. “You’re insane.”
His voice echoes back, rough and teasing. “Come on in, Rhett. Unless you’re scared.”
Twenty years ago, I was. I was scared of what it meant, what people would say, I was scared of wanting him as bad as I did. The scandal that followed proved I was right. But now? I peel off my clothes and dive after him.
The water hits cold, then sweet. I surface, sputtering, and he’s right there, slick and gleaming in the spray, his hair plastered back, eyes burning through me.
He looks like everything I ever wanted and hated myself for waiting.
We should have talked about it. We should have found each other, but we just moved away and never found each other. Until this week.
“You remember,” he says low. It’s not a question.
I do. My fist wrapped around him, both of us coming undone under the roar of the falls. Then the silence that followed.
“Show me,” I say, because this time I won’t run.
His hand cups the back of my neck and he kisses me, it’s hungry, wet and twenty years of fury and forgiveness all rolled into one emotional kiss.
I groan into his mouth as my hand is sliding down his chest. His muscles are a lot harder than I remembered, and my hand moves down to where he’s already hard for me.
“Fuck,” I whisper. He always did get there first.
“Then fuck me,” he growls.
The waterfall crashes around us, it’s white noise against our moans.
I push him back against the slick rock, his legs wrapping tight around my waist. He’s heavy and solid and so mine.
My cock drags against his, sliding between us, it’s slick with water and pre-come, and I swear I could lose it right there.
But I want more. I need more.
I lift him higher, line myself up, and thrust inside. The heat of him takes me by my throat. His head drops back, water streaming down his face, and the sound he makes is ragged and wrecked. It nearly undoes me/
“Jesus, Rhett…”
I thrust deeper, claiming him against the rock while the falls pound around us. Every movement is frantic, desperate, like the current itself is pulling us under.
He bites into my shoulder muffling his shout as he comes, hot and wet against my hand. The clench of him around my cock drags me over the edge and I spill inside him, shaking, and gasping his name.
We cling together, water sluicing over us, breathing hard. It feels like the world has stopped turning and we are stuck in one moment in time. The place where it all began and where we finally got it right.
“It’s getting late,” Moses observed eventually, though he made no move to leave our spot. “Past midnight, I’d guess.”
“Probably,” I agreed, equally reluctant to end this perfect moment. “Though I’m not sure the time matters much. It’s not like either of us has early commitments tomorrow.”
Our final day in Gomillion stretched before us, open, unscheduled, our last chance to be together before returning to our separate cities. The realization brought a bittersweet quality to the night.
“What should we do with our last day here?” Moses asked, seemingly following my train of thought.
I considered the question, mentally reviewing the possibilities. “Whatever we want,” I decided. “Sleep late. Maybe brunch at that café we liked. One last walk around town, perhaps. Or we could drive back out to the property, spend more time exploring it in daylight.”
“All of that sounds perfect,” Moses said. “Though I should stop by the bar briefly to check in with Bronwyn, make sure everything’s set for my absence.”
“Of course,” I agreed. “We have all day. No rush, no agenda.”
Moses nodded, satisfaction in his expression. “A day just for us. I like that.”
Moses got out of the pool, and I followed him, we don’t have a towel, but put our clothes back on before we froze to death.
He stood then, offering his hand to help me up from our seated position where we were putting our shoes on. But instead of starting back toward the trail immediately, he pulled me close, his arms encircling my waist as he looked up at me in the moonlight.
“Thank you,” he said softly.
“For what?”
“For coming back to Gomillion. For not giving up on me, on us, even when you had every reason to. For showing me this future, I hadn’t dared to imagine.”
The simple sincerity of his words touched something deep inside me. I cupped his face in my hands, studying the features that had matured over twenty years but remained essentially, beautifully Moses.
“Thank you for being brave enough to tell your truth,” I replied. “For letting me back into your life. For being willing to build something new with me, even though it won’t be simple or easy.”
Our kiss was gentle at first, a seal on the promises and plans we’d made, but quickly deepened into something more urgent. Twenty years of separation, a week of rediscovery, and the prospect of another separation, though temporary, lent a poignancy to the embrace.
When we finally pulled apart, both slightly breathless, Moses’s eyes were dark with a mixture of desire and tenderness.
“We should head back,” he suggested, though his tone conveyed reluctance.
Hand in hand, we made our way back along the moonlit trail, the falls receding behind us as we returned to town. The walk was mostly silent, both of us lost in our own thoughts, yet connected by the physical contact between us.
As we approached the edge of town, the distant steeple of Gomillion’s oldest church just visible in the moonlight, Moses squeezed my hand to get my attention.
“One more thing I wanted to ask,” he said, his tone casual but with an undercurrent of seriousness. “Have you considered where we might end up eventually? If the three-month plan works out, if we decide to move forward with the property. Would you ever consider... Atlanta?”
The question caught me by surprise, not because I hadn’t thought about it but because I hadn’t expected Moses to broach the topic so directly.
“I’ve thought about it,” I admitted. “Atlanta, Boston, somewhere new entirely. There are advantages and challenges to each option.”
Moses nodded, processing my non-answer with patience. “We don’t have to decide now,” he clarified. “It’s just been on my mind.”
“Mine too,” I assured him. “And for what it’s worth, I’m open to Atlanta. My work has been shifting toward smaller, more personal projects that could be managed from anywhere with good transportation links. And Atlanta has a thriving architectural scene.”
A smile spread across Moses’s face, illuminated by a streetlight as we reached the edge of the residential area. “Really? You’ve researched the Atlanta architecture market?”
Caught out in my advance planning, I felt a flush rise to my cheeks. “I may have done some preliminary research. Just exploring options, understanding the landscape. Professional curiosity.”
“Professional curiosity,” Moses repeated, his tone teasing. “Of course.”
“What about you?” I countered, deflecting attention from my own forward thinking. “Have you considered Boston?”
“I have,” he acknowledged readily. “The craft spirits scene is excellent there. Sophisticated, appreciative clientele. And I’ve always loved the city itself, the history, the architecture, the sense of tradition blended with innovation.”
His thoughtful answer surprised me. “You’ve been considering Boston seriously?”
Moses smiled, a hint of mischief in his expression. “Professional curiosity,” he echoed my words back to me.
We both laughed, the tension of the topic dissolving into shared amusement at our mutual secret planning.
“Look at us,” I marveled as we continued walking. “Both researching the other’s city, both considering possibilities, both keeping it to ourselves.”
“Great minds,” Moses suggested with a smile.
“Or fools who could have saved themselves some anxiety by communicating sooner,” I countered good-naturedly.
“That too,” he conceded with a laugh.
We had reached the hotel now, the quiet lobby empty save for a sleepy night clerk who barely glanced up as we crossed to the elevators. Once inside, Moses leaned against the wall, his expression turning thoughtful again.
“We have a lot to figure out,” he observed as the elevator began its ascent. “Logistics. Timing. Whose furniture goes where?”
“We do,” I agreed, stepping closer to him. “But we’ll figure it out. Together.”
The simple affirmation seemed to satisfy him. When the elevator doors opened on our floor, he took my hand again, leading the way to our room with purpose in his stride.
The moonlight streamed through the partially open curtains, casting long shadows across the hotel room as we entered. Moses turned to me the moment the door closed behind us, his expression open and vulnerable in a way I was still getting used to seeing.
“I don’t want to waste any more time,” he said quietly. “Twenty years is enough separation for one lifetime, don’t you think?”
I nodded, understanding the deeper meaning behind his words. “More than enough.”
As we moved toward each other in the moonlit room, I felt a sense of rightness settle over me. Whatever challenges lay ahead; distance, logistics, the merging of two independent lives, we would face them together, no longer separated by secrets or misunderstandings.
Tomorrow would bring a return to our separate cities, to the reality of daily life and responsibilities. But tonight was ours, a perfect culmination of the journey we’d begun a week ago, and a promise of the future we were choosing to build together.
In the quiet of the Gomillion night, far from the cities we called home but somehow exactly where we belonged, we found each other again, older, wiser, and finally ready for the love we’d been denied for too long.