Chapter 15
Fifteen
Rhett
I lay beside Pepper, sweat cooling on my skin, heart still thundering in my chest. My shoulder ached a little, but I didn’t care.
The late afternoon sun slanted through her bedroom window, casting everything in honey-gold light, gilding the glorious expanse of her smooth skin and making fire glint in her auburn hair.
Her fingers traced idle patterns on my chest. Neither of us spoke. We didn’t need to. The air felt thick, charged with possibility.
Maybe I should’ve felt guilty. Should’ve worried about what this meant, where we went from here.
But in the moment, all I felt was peace.
Like some missing piece of myself had finally clicked back into place.
I wanted to bask in it as long as possible, before reality and practicalities intruded again.
The ceiling fan made lazy circles above us, swaying with a light, rhythmic click. Needed balancing. I ought to add that to the list of things to fix. Maybe later, when the blood returned fully to my brain.
Pepper shivered against me. I pulled the sheet higher over us both, tucking it around her shoulders.
She pressed a kiss to my chest, right over my heart.
The simple gesture nearly undid me, and I threaded my fingers in her hair, gently kneading.
Everything I’d been fighting for, everything I wanted—it was all right here in this bed.
This wasn’t just sex. It wasn’t nostalgia or comfort or goodbye. This was a beginning. At least, I wanted it to be.
I tightened my arm around her, drawing her closer. She came willingly, fitting herself against me like she’d never left. Like we’d never been apart at all. And that gave me the courage to speak.
Turning my head, I pressed a kiss to her brow. “I’ve missed you. Missed this. Every single day.”
Pepper lost some of that languid relaxation, but she didn’t move away. “I’ve missed you, too. But this doesn’t change anything, Rhett.”
I took a deep breath, steeling myself. “It does change things. It has to. Because I’ve changed.”
Pepper propped herself up on one elbow, those gray-green eyes studying me with guarded hope. I’d seen that look before—wanting to believe me but afraid to.
“When I was over there, lying in that field hospital after the explosion, I had a lot of time to think.” I traced the curve of her shoulder with my fingertips. “And what I realized was that I’d been a coward.”
“You? A coward?” She shook her head. “You run into burning buildings for a living.”
“That’s the easy part.” I met her gaze directly. “The hard part was admitting that I used the job as an excuse. I hid behind duty and responsibility because it was safer than facing what was happening between us.”
Her expression softened slightly, but she remained silent.
“I took you for granted, Pepper. I acted like you’d always be here, waiting, no matter how many times I put the job first. I convinced myself I was being noble, that the sacrifices were necessary.
” I swallowed hard. “But the truth is, I was afraid of failing at being a husband. So I poured everything into being a firefighter instead. A soldier.”
“The deployments weren’t your fault,” she said quietly. “That’s not how the Reserves work. I knew that when you signed up.”
“No, but everything before was. All those missed dinners. The anniversaries I worked through. The vacations we never took.” My voice grew rough. “I could’ve tried harder to swap shifts. Could’ve said no to overtime sometimes. Could’ve put us first, at least occasionally.”
Pepper’s eyes glistened. “Why didn’t you?”
“Because I was terrified of disappointing you. Ironic, right? I ended up doing exactly what I feared most.” I took her hand, pressed it against my chest. “I can’t promise I’ll never get called away again. But I can promise that when I’m here, I’ll truly be here. Present. Putting us first.”
“Pretty words,” she whispered, but her fingers curled against my skin.
“Not just words. I’m asking for a chance to prove it. To show you I’ve learned. To try again—really try this time.” I lifted her hand to my lips. “I want to fight for us the way I should have before.”
I watched emotions play across Pepper’s face. Doubt. Hope. Fear. Longing. I’d seen them all before, but never with such intensity, never with so much at stake.
She pulled away slightly, not breaking contact completely but creating space between us. My heart sank a little at the distance.
“I need to think, Rhett.” Her voice was soft but steady. “This isn’t just about today or even the last few weeks. We tried for years and it fell apart.”
“I know.” I swallowed hard, fighting the urge to pull her back, to convince her with touch what my words might fail to do. “Take whatever time you need.”
The silence stretched between us, broken only by the ceiling fan’s persistent click. I wanted to fill it with more promises, more explanations, more of everything that might tip the scales in my favor. But I’d said my piece. Pushing harder now would only prove I hadn’t changed at all.
So I waited, memorizing the curve of her shoulder, the flutter of her pulse at her throat, the way her hair spilled across the pillow. If this was the last time I’d hold her like this, I wanted to remember every detail.
My chest tightened with the possibility that she might say no. That despite everything—the porch, the meals, this afternoon—she might decide the risk wasn’t worth taking. That I wasn’t worth taking. The thought sent icy fear through me, worse than any burning building I’d ever faced.
But forcing her hand would be selfish. The old Rhett would have done that—made it about his needs, his timeline. I couldn’t be that man anymore.
“Whatever you decide,” I said finally, tracing my thumb across her knuckles, “I meant what I said. All of it.”
Pepper nodded, her eyes searching mine. I held her gaze, letting her see everything—my fear, my hope, my love. No more hiding. My heart hammered against my ribs as I waited. And waited.
Eyes never leaving mine, she took a deep breath. “I want to believe you, Rhett. I do.” She sat up, pulling the sheet with her, creating a barrier between us. “But words are easy. Living them is the hard part.”
I nodded, not trusting myself to speak.
“If we try this—” She hesitated, and hope flared in my chest at that simple ‘if’ “—there have to be rules.”
“Anything,” I said, too quickly. “Whatever you need.”
Her lips quirked in a half-smile. “First, we go slow. No moving back in together right away. We date—real dates, not just you fixing things around the house.”
“I can do that,” I said, sitting up beside her.
“Second, we talk. Really talk. No more of that stoic firefighter bullshit where you shut down because you think you’re protecting me.” She poked my chest with her finger. “I need to know what’s going on in your head, especially when things get tough.”
I caught her hand, held it against my heart. “I promise.”
“Third,” she continued, her voice softening, “if you get deployed again, we figure out how to handle it together. No more unilateral decisions about what I can or can’t handle.”
The guilt of that hit me square in the chest. I’d shut her out before my previous deployments, convinced I was sparing her worry. All I’d done was push her away when we both needed each other most.
“And last,” she said, meeting my eyes directly, “I need you to understand that I’m scared, Rhett. Terrified. Loving you nearly broke me last time.”
My throat tightened. “I know. I’m scared too.”
Her eyes widened slightly at the admission.
“But I swear to you, Pepper,” I said, bringing her hand to my lips, “I will do everything in my power not to hurt you again. I can’t promise I’ll be perfect, but I can promise I’ll never stop trying to be better. To be the man you deserve.”
She studied me for a long moment, then nodded slowly. “Okay.”
“Okay?” I repeated, hardly daring to believe.
“We can try.” A tear slipped down her cheek. “God help me, but I want to try.”
I pulled her into my arms, careful not to crush her, though every cell in my body wanted to hold her so tight she’d never slip away again. This was my second chance—maybe my last chance—and I wasn’t going to waste it.