Chapter 20 Rhett
RHETT
My body is on fire as I stride out of the bathroom, closing the door behind me like it’s going to do something to put a veil over what just happened.
I stop, just outside the door, breathing hard while I try to get a hold of myself.
When I look down, there’s a wet spot in the front of my pants.
I was so fucking turned on, just from watching Violet touch herself and fuck herself on that toy, that I came just from kissing her.
That’s never happened to me before, and if someone had asked me about it before now, I would have said it was impossible for me.
But then—Violet.
I can still taste her on my lips, that sweet warm flavor that’s all her. It takes all of my self-control to not turn around and go right back into the bathroom. To resist the urge to show her how much better I can make her feel than that toy.
It would be good. That much is pretty fucking certain. She’d look at me with those big, luminous eyes, and she’d moan my name and clutch at me while her body gripped my cock and—
I rip myself out of that thought and walk into the living room with purpose. It’s not happening, it’s not a good idea. So there’s no use fantasizing about it right now. I already crossed a line I didn’t think I would cross, and I need to clear my fucking head about it.
My stuff is in the living room, crammed into my duffel and out of the way, and I shuck off my wet pants and boxers and put on new, clean ones. I shove the dirty ones into the bag like I can hide from what they represent and then go outside.
The cold air is a relief on my heated skin, and I realize I didn’t bring a jacket. I’m just in a sweater and my jeans, but that’s fine. The bite in the air will help with this.
I grab the axe from where I left it last time and start stacking logs to chop.
Violet has a near endless supply of them from the big oak tree that she had taken down in her yard, and that’s good.
I need something methodical and simple to focus on.
Something to push my body through physical work while letting me process and tame my raging thoughts.
Before I came back here, I was at the park playing chess with Simon. His offer to come play with him was a good one, and Simon’s a good man, so I can see why Violet’s grandmother liked him.
He’s a simple, down to earth guy, easy to get along with, the kind of man I like to be around. And it turns out that he’s fucking great at chess. I’m pretty good myself, but Simon thoroughly beat me and didn’t feel bad about it for a second.
Maybe that’s because I’ve only had myself to play against for months, living alone in my cabin with no one else around. It’s hard to get better when you’re only up against your own skill, with no challenges other than the ones you invent to keep the game interesting.
My fingers tighten around the handle of the axe and I bring it down with more force than necessary, splitting the log into two pieces that scatter from the stump and fall to the frozen ground.
I huff out a breath and pick them up, splitting one and then the other. I’m on edge, but it’s better for me to take it out on the wood than anything else.
My head feels so full right now, all the thoughts swirling around in a chaotic mass. Before now, everything was under control. I had my cabin, my peace, my quiet little life. I did only what I wanted to do, and no one was there to throw wrenches into my routine.
I knew coming back here was going to change that, but I didn’t know just how much. I liked my simple life, and now there are so many fucking complications. Now it all feels like it’s unraveling around me, and I’m left clutching the fraying threads, unsure how to move forward.
I thunk the axe into the wood and set up another log to be chopped. This one is bigger, heftier than most of the others, and I set it on the stump with a grunt.
It takes two swings to get all the way through it, and my arms burn pleasantly from the movement. The sound of the axe splitting through the wood, the logs hitting the ground with their predictable noises, it’s all what I’m used to.
It helps.
But at the same time… there’s a part of me that wonders if my life was really as uncomplicated as I think.
If I was actually trying to get rid of all the distractions, all the little snarls and tangles that made things difficult to deal with, or if I was just running away.
If I was just hiding from the messiness of everything.
It’s hard to say.
Before I can work through it, I hear cars pulling into the driveway, and the slam of the doors, followed by voices talking.
Lennox and Sawyer must be back.
A few minutes pass, and then the back door opens and both of them step outside to see me there.
“What’s with you?” Lennox asks.
I take a breath and follow through on my next swing, chopping the half log into quarters. Once I’ve gathered them up and added them to my growing pile, I just grunt, not really answering.
Sawyer eyes the pile and snorts, folding his arms. “Come on, Len, you know how this goes,” he says. “Rhett isn’t going to talk. He never does. It’s all bottled up in there somewhere, and he’ll go back to the woods and brood about it.” He gestures around us. “This is as close as he can get here.”
He sounds bitter, but it’s familiar. We’ve had this argument before. My nostrils flare as I huff out an irritated breath, but don’t give him the satisfaction of arguing back.
Lennox isn’t going to leave it, though. He narrows his eyes at me. “Did something happen between you and Violet?”
I stop before moving into my next swing, going stiff, but trying to keep my face neutral. “What? What would have happened?”
“You tell me,” Lennox replies. He clenches his hand—on the injured side—into a fist. His eyes search my face, like he’s looking for answers he doesn’t think I’ll give.
“If we’re talking about things happening with Violet, you’re the expert there,” Sawyer cuts in, his attention on Lennox now. “We all know what happened between you two now.”
Lennox just shoots him a look. “That was a long time ago. And we’re not talking about that right now.”
Sawyer holds up his hands. “I’m just saying. Maybe you think something happened with Rhett and Violet because you’re thinking about you and Violet.”
A small surge of jealousy goes through me at that, but I bite it back, taking a breath.
Lennox is ready to snap back at Sawyer, but the back door opens again, and Violet steps out.
We all fall silent immediately.
There’s a moment—a tiny one, but it’s there—when she looks at me. My blood heats immediately, like the eye contact is enough to send sparks up. Everything that happened in the bathroom comes flooding back into my mind, and I have a sudden vision of her bent over, crying my name.
But she’s not naked and wet now.
Instead, she looks very festive in a red sweater dress with white fur along the cuffs. There’s a green ribbon in her hair, and little holly leaves dangle from her earrings.
“What’s with the Mrs. Claus look?” Sawyer asks, eyeing her up and down.
Violet pops her hands on her hips and grins at us. “It’s the Sweetwater Holiday Festival tonight. Have you three been gone so long that you forgot about that?”
I chuckle, and her gaze shoots to me, her eyes widening almost imperceptibly, as if she’s surprised by the sound. I guess she’s got a right to be, since me laughing isn’t something that happens often these days—although it feels easier now than it has in a long while.
“There are some things you never forget,” I tell her. “And I saw them setting up in town while I was out.”
“Oh, right.” Sawyer rubs at his chin. “That must have been what all the fuss was about earlier.”
“Yeah.” I nod. “Must’ve been. Luckily it didn’t stop me from getting home early.”
The words slip out before I can stop them, and I hear the soft sound of Violet’s inhale in response.
Unable to help myself, I shoot a subtle glance her way. And even though I probably shouldn’t let myself feel anything about it, some caveman-like part of me is gratified to see the pretty flush that paints her cheeks.