Chapter 6 #2
“Of course,” he said, laughing. “I’m hungry for details. But if you’re not comfortable sharing, I can respect that.”
I met his eyes for a long moment, thinking about the way Rhett tended to notice the details.
Perhaps that was his superpower, not his goofy, himbo humor.
It made him easy to talk to, made me feel like I knew him well even though we mostly bickered.
So I stared down at my hands, took a deep breath, and started to talk.
“When I was in college, I had this professor—Garrett. He was brilliant, charismatic, fifteen years older than me. He singled me out, told me I had ‘potential,’ invited me to special study sessions. I was so fucking flattered. This important man saw something in me that no one else did. Or so I thought.”
Rhett watched me, focused on my story.
“We started dating in secret during my sophomore year. I thought it was romantic. We were star-crossed lovers who had to hide their connection because the university wouldn’t understand.” I laughed, the sound harsh in the quiet room. “God, I was so stupid.”
“You weren’t stupid,” Rhett said firmly. “You were young and full of hope. And he was manipulative.”
“Yeah, well, it took me until just over a year ago to figure that out.” I swallowed, forcing myself to continue. “I caught him cheating with one of his students. A girl the same age I’d been when we hooked up.”
“Fuck, Aims. I’m sorry.”
“It gets worse. The more I dug into it, the more I found. A new protégée every few years… I wasn’t the first, and I was far from the last.” I blinked back tears. “You know what’s fucked up? I didn’t even leave right away.”
“What?”
“He convinced me that I was special. Different from the rest.”
“Shit.”
“Yeah, but once I could see the pattern, I couldn’t shake it. Knowing how often he’d done this before made me certain he’d do it again.”
“He basically groomed you.”
“Yeah. He found me before I was the confident woman you see before you today. I was floundering in school, still missing our parents, trying to figure out who I was, and I was at my most vulnerable and isolated. For all I know, he looked at my file and realized I was an orphan and picked me as a target.”
“I’m glad you got out. In the end, you were too smart to fall for his bullshit.”
“Was I, though? Was I really? That’s the worst part.
Now I can’t trust my judgment with men. Like those guys I’ve been bringing home?
I was trying to put myself out there.” I shook my head.
“But you and Troy could see right through them. How did I miss it? Karl-with-a-K? Slut-shaming Shane? I have a Ph.D. in psychology, and I can’t spot an asshole when he’s standing right in front of me. ”
Rhett slid off his washing machine and stepped between my dangling legs, wrapping his arms around me in a hug that felt like coming home. I sank into his chest, breathing in his scent, warm and clean and safe.
“That professor was a predatory piece of shit,” Rhett murmured into my hair.
“Just because it took you time to unwind his manipulation and see it for what it was doesn’t mean you can’t trust yourself, Aimee.
And those other guys were just garden-variety jerks.
None of that is your fault. I trust your judgment more than anyone. ”
“I know that intellectually,” I said, my voice muffled against his chest. “But emotionally? It’s like I have this broken radar, and every time I think I’ve fixed it, I find out it’s still pointing me toward trash.”
“You need time to understand who people are, Aims. There’s no shame in that. People put on acts. They put up shields. You know that.”
I reached up to smooth down a particularly rebellious tuft of his hair, meeting his eyes. “Like you?”
He cleared his throat, ducking his chin. “What do you mean?”
“The whole himbo class clown thing? That doesn’t seem like the man I’m talking to today.”
He grinned. “Himbo? Me? Never!”
“Rhett, I’m being serious.”
He glanced to the side for a moment. “I have dyslexia. It took them a while to figure out that was my issue. And by then? Class clown was my default. Making people laugh hides the stupid.”
“Aw, sweetheart, you’re not stupid. You’re really perceptive and a good listener. Plus the firefighter thing. I bet your family is proud.”
He snorted. “My family are all doctors. Which makes me the dumb black sheep they can’t quite explain.”
“Well, fuck them, then. You’re not dumb. Being good at science is only one aspect of intelligence, and if they can’t see that you have other strengths, they’re the stupid ones. And I studied psychology. I know my shit.”
A big grin spread across his face, and for a brief moment, I wondered what it would be like to lean forward and press my lips to his. Would he taste like coffee? Would his hands tighten on my thighs? Would he make that same soft sound Troy had drawn from him during their kiss?
The thought shocked me enough that I dropped my hand, and his eyes opened, something unreadable flickering in their depths.
“Do you think,” he said suddenly, voice low and a bit rough, “that kissing someone else would erase my feelings for Troy?”
I blinked, then burst out laughing, the tension of the moment broken. “I’m not kissing you, Rhett.” No matter how much I wanted to.
His face flushed scarlet. “I wasn’t—I didn’t mean—” He stepped back, running a hand through his hair in that now-familiar nervous gesture. “I was just thinking out loud.”
“Sure you were,” I teased, but even as I said it, I found myself wondering if I’d read too much into his words, or if that was really what he’d meant.
The washing machine across the room buzzed, making us both jump.
“Saved by the bell,” Rhett muttered, retreating to his washing machine perch, the vulnerable moment evaporating like it had never existed. “Let’s hope that person set a timer on their laundry.”
I hopped down and busied myself with removing my now-dry clothes, trying to ignore the strange mix of relief and disappointment swirling in my chest. I’d come down here for clean underwear and somehow ended up neck-deep in feelings—both his and mine—that I wasn’t prepared to deal with.
“So,” I said, desperate to return to safer territory as I folded a t-shirt. “Tell me about these kittens that have turned you into a sleep-deprived zombie.”
Rhett’s face lit up with genuine affection. “They’re terrors. Absolute terrors. I have to keep them in a big kitten habitat when we’re not home to keep them from eating all the electrical cords.”
“Kitten… habitat?”
“Don’t ask how much I spent. It’s embarrassing.”
But they were also… He trailed off, looking embarrassed.
“Cute?” I supplied.
“The cutest fucking things I’ve ever seen,” he admitted, and just like that, regular Rhett was back, launching into an animated story about Cheeto’s attempts to climb the curtains and Olive’s habit of sleeping on his face.
I listened, smiling and nodding in all the right places, but part of my mind was still stuck on that moment of possibility between us, and the undercurrent of emotions that seemed to be swirling just beneath the surface of our friendship.
When the laundry room door finally swung open forty minutes later, I wasn’t sure if I was relieved or disappointed that our forced confessional had come to an end.