Chapter 16 Pepper
Sixteen
Pepper
I leaned against Jess’s coffee truck, soaking in the afternoon sun while clutching my Pour Decisions special—extra shot, extra hot.
Just how I needed it after the night I’d had, tossing and turning, thinking about Rhett’s hands on my lower back, his lips brushing my ear when he’d whispered goodnight.
“So?” Meghan nudged my shoulder. “You gonna tell us, or do we need to pry it out of you?”
“Tell you what?” I took a deliberate sip, avoiding three pairs of expectant eyes.
Allie snorted. “Please. The whole town’s talking about how Rhett MacAvoy’s truck has been parked outside your place almost every night for nearly three weeks.”
“He’s fixing my porch.” It was the same excuse I’d been using since this started.
“That must be one complicated porch.” Jess handed Meghan her drink with a knowing smirk. “Or is he inspecting other parts of the house now?”
Heat crawled up my neck when I thought about some of the very thorough “inspections” he’d done.
“We’re taking things slow.” It wasn’t entirely a lie.
He wasn’t sleeping over, and we weren’t making any plans for him to move back in.
But I hadn’t been able to deny our mutual physical needs.
It had been too damned long—for both of us, as it turned out.
“Your idea or his?” Meghan asked.
“Mine.” I stared into my coffee. “And it’s killing me.”
The admission slipped out before I could stop it. All three women leaned in like sharks scenting blood.
“Why torture yourself?” Allie asked. “You’re clearly still crazy about him.”
I sighed. “That’s the problem. It would be so easy to fall back into everything with Rhett. Too easy. We were always good together until…”
“Until you weren’t,” Meghan finished softly.
“Yeah.” I swallowed hard. “I can’t just pretend those problems never existed because he looks good in a tool belt and brings me dinner.”
“But he’s trying,” Jess pointed out. “That counts for something, right?”
I nodded, remembering how he’d drawn out plans for the backyard pergola I’d always wanted but hadn’t even mentioned.
How he’d been bringing me daisies twice a week since this started.
How his eyes followed me like I was something precious he was afraid of losing again.
I didn’t doubt his sincerity. He meant what he said.
But good intentions didn’t always hold up to real life, and with his shoulder improving by the day, he’d be back on full duty at the fire station soon enough.
“I’m scared,” I admitted. “What if we’re just repeating the same pattern?
What if the honeymoon phase wears off, and he goes back to putting everything else first?
” That was the real fear. And I didn’t think I could go back to being second string to everything else in his life.
I wanted the dreams we’d had when we got married.
The house and the dog and the children. But I wasn’t willing to do any of that on my own.
Having a family was hard enough with two parents.
Allie squeezed my arm. “What if he doesn’t? What if he really has changed and grown up?”
That question haunted me more than any other.
What if this time was different? What if I was standing in the way of my own happiness by being too cautious?
I was already past thirty. That biological clock was ticking.
But love or no, jumping back into bed and marriage with my ex-husband because I wanted a baby was the height of foolishness.
I had to be sure of him before I took that risk.
And I didn’t know how to find that certainty.
I took another long sip of my coffee, wishing it could wash away the knot of anxiety in my stomach. “I just don’t know what to do. Every time he smiles at me, I forget all the reasons we didn’t work.”
“Maybe that’s not such a bad thing,” Meghan said, adjusting her chunky turquoise necklace. “Look, I’ve watched you both for years. That man has been in love with you since high school. People change, Pepper. Near-death experiences have a way of clarifying what matters.”
Jess nodded emphatically. “My cousin went through something similar with her ex. Second time around was completely different because they’d both grown up. They actually talk about problems now instead of letting them fester.”
“But what if—”
“What if, what if, what if,” Allie interrupted, rolling her eyes. “Girl, you’re gonna what-if yourself right out of happiness. Maybe try something new this time.”
“Like what?” I asked, genuinely curious.
Allie leaned against the coffee truck. “Like setting actual boundaries. Tell him exactly what you need from him, not what you think he wants to hear. If he starts slipping back into old habits, call him on it immediately.”
“And get it in writing,” Jess added with a wink. “A relationship contract.”
I snorted. “That’s romantic.”
“No, but it’s practical,” Meghan said, surprising me by taking Jess’s side. “Not a literal contract, but clear expectations. What does a partnership look like to you? What are your non-negotiables? What are his? Figure that out before you’re in too deep again.”
“And maybe,” Allie said more gently, “give the man a chance to prove himself. He’s literally rebuilding your home piece by piece. That’s not nothing, Pepper.”
I stared down at my coffee, thinking about Rhett’s promise to do better, the sincerity in his eyes when he’d laid his heart bare. The way he’d asked for nothing but a chance.
“Just don’t rush,” Jess advised. “Date him properly this time. You jumped straight from high school into marriage before. Maybe what you both need is to rediscover each other as adults.”
I couldn’t argue with that. The idea of it was still circling around my brain as I headed home. Maybe we could talk about all of that over dinner tonight.
Except Rhett’s truck wasn’t in the driveway when I got home.
I scanned the porch. The new posts had been put up, and the new floor installed.
But I didn’t see any further progress on the railing.
I’d kind of expected the steps to be finished by the time I got home today.
Maybe he’d been working on some other project instead.
I let myself in through the kitchen door, dropping my keys in the ceramic bowl on the counter with a clatter that echoed through the empty house.
It felt strange that he wasn’t here. Every day for the past three weeks, he’d been here working on something when I got home from the diner.
I wandered through the living room, looking for any sign of his presence.
No tools set out. No sawdust on the floor. No half-empty water glass.
I headed upstairs, checking the bathroom where he’d fixed the leaky faucet last week. Everything looked exactly as I’d left it this morning. The guest bedroom was untouched. No project, no Rhett, no note.
Back downstairs, I stood in the center of the living room, hands on my hips, feeling oddly abandoned.
We hadn’t made any specific plans for tonight.
Hell, we hadn’t made any specific plans for any night.
He just showed up, worked on the house, made dinner sometimes, and then we’d end up tangled together on the couch or in my bed before he’d reluctantly pull himself away and head back to his place.
It had become our routine without either of us acknowledging it. I’d grown used to coming home to the sounds of him working, the smell of sawdust or paint, sometimes dinner cooking. Used to his presence filling up the empty spaces of this house that had felt too big since our divorce.
I pulled out my phone, checking for messages. Nothing. Not even a text saying he couldn’t make it today.
The silence of the house pressed in around me. I hadn’t realized how much I’d been looking forward to seeing him until he wasn’t here. How quickly I’d gotten used to having him back in my space, in my life.
Maybe this was good, I told myself. A reminder that I shouldn’t get too comfortable, shouldn’t take his presence for granted. We weren’t back together, not officially. He was just… fixing my porch. And other things.
But as I headed to the kitchen to scrounge up something for dinner, I couldn’t shake the feeling of disappointment that settled in my chest. I tried to quash it. Putting me first didn’t mean he didn’t get to have a life. I’d just thought right now he was focused here. On us.
As I pulled out some leftover meatloaf to reheat, it occurred to me that this might be something else entirely. What if something had happened? From time to time over the past few weeks, I’d caught him wincing when he thought I wasn’t looking. What if he’d pushed too hard and re-injured himself?
My heart rate picked up as I grabbed my phone and dialed his number. It rang three times, and I was about to hang up when he finally answered.
“Hey.” His voice sounded distant, traffic noise in the background.
“Where are you?” I asked, trying not to sound as worried as I felt.
“I had to leave town for a couple of days to take care of something.”
My fingers tightened around the phone. Leave town? Without telling me? The old resentment flared—him making decisions, going places, never bothering to keep me in the loop.
I took a deep breath. “Is everything okay with your shoulder?”
“Shoulder’s fine.” His voice was clipped, distracted. “I’ll be back day after tomorrow. Gotta go. Miss you. See you soon.”
“Rhett, wait—”
But he’d already hung up.
I stared at my phone, a knot forming in my stomach. This felt eerily familiar—the short, uninformative call, the brushing off of my concerns. Like we were slipping right back into our old patterns already.
So much for all those promises about communication and putting me first. He couldn’t even manage a heads-up text that he was leaving town? Or a proper explanation of where he was going or why?
I could have let it go. Probably should have. Accepted that it was something we needed to talk about when he did get back. But something drove me to dial the station.
“Station 1, this is Holloway.”
I swallowed. “Hey Chief, it’s Pepper DeLuca. I was calling to see if Rhett was around.” Had had gone back to work early? Started prep to return to full duty and didn’t want to tell me?
“Oh, no, he’s in Birmingham for the assessment. Didn’t he tell you?”
No. No he had not. What the hell kind of assessment was he taking? Some kind of specialization class that would mean more danger? More risks?
I swallowed down the bile in my throat. “Oh, I guess I got the dates wrong. Thanks, Chief.” I hung up before he could say anything else.
Rhett was lying to me. If not outright, then most certainly by omission. It was the start of everything all over again, exactly like before.
Livid, I tossed my phone onto the counter and slammed the refrigerator door shut. Fine. If this was how things were going to be, maybe I needed to rethink this whole second-chance business before I got in any deeper.