Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
RHETT
“Is there any update?” I ask through the phone.
I grab my keys from the hook and flip off the lights. The sticky Georgia heat hits me instantly. Sweat gathers at the back of my neck before I even reach the truck.
“Rhett,” John’s voice comes through, rough around the edges. “I ran the info you gave me last time. Nothing in this area. The only Victoria Hayes I can find in the state is up in Blue Ridge and that Victoria Hayes is thirteen.”
I settle into the driver’s seat and slam the door behind me.
“Thirteen?” I mutter under my breath. “I just don’t understand how she disappeared into thin air.
Why are we no closer to finding her than we were four years ago?
” Frustration coats my voice. I gave up everything to find my mother—time, energy, sleep, Rachel—and still, even with John digging around for me, I’m no closer.
“Look,” John says, voice calm but firm, cutting through my anger.
“You’re asking me to dig for someone who’s gone dark for more than two decades.
I’m not promising miracles. But send me that number you said keeps calling you.
I’ll run it, see if it matches anything on record.
Could be something. Could be nothing. But I’ll check it out. ”
“Yeah. I’ll do that,” I say, pressing the phone into the cupholder, feeling its weight like a brick pressing against my chest.
The drive to Anderson and Margo’s place takes about twenty minutes. Tonight, they are hosting a dinner. It’s their first time they’ve had people over since their honeymoon in Lisbon.
I’ve seen them since they got back, but this is different. This is a full house. More faces, Rachel’s included. She can’t avoid me the way she has been since I fixed her shower head, slipping out early or staying locked behind polite distance and closed doors. Tonight, there is nowhere to hide.
It has been two weeks since that busted shower head had turned her bathroom into a small flood zone.
When she called me, I could practically feel the panic running off of her.
So I stepped in with a towel and a wrench and every good intention I own.
I forced my eyes down. I tried looking at the tiles first. At the water coating the floor. Toward anything that wasn’t her.
I knew she was naked in the way you know something dangerous is close. It took every single thing in me not to confirm what my mind was already painting in dangerous detail. I wasn’t proud of how hard that was. I was proud that I didn’t fail.
So, I was fine with the space at first. Grateful for it, even.
After seeing her like that, I needed distance in the way a man crawling from a burning room needs air.
She went quiet, and I didn’t push. Told myself I was being respectful, that I didn’t want to interfere with her life.
Bullshit. The truth is uglier. Isn’t it always?
I don’t trust myself to keep my mouth shut long enough not to say something I can’t take back, especially about Ben. Especially when all I really want is to ask her if she is okay. If I caused her damage.
When Josh died, I realized I couldn’t stay in this city and be what she needed.
Grief has a way of exposing the worst in me, a way of dragging every buried fear and weakness into the open.
Staying felt like handing her a broken man, and genetically, it is wired in me to run when the storm gets too close.
I couldn’t risk poisoning her life with my own chaos.
Finding my mother was supposed to be the first step.
Solve that impossible mess, close that chapter, and finally return to Rachel.
But after a year of searching for my mother, I found nothing.
There was no trace of her. I had no answers.
By the time I was ready to come back to town, Rach was finally standing on her own, thriving even.
I didn’t want to flip her life upside down with my return.
I had no claim anymore, no right to step back into a life that had gone on in my absence.
One night, about a month before Margo’s wedding, Margo wanted me to come down for a visit. So I went. Her, Anderson, Slone and I met at a restaurant for dinner.
Then, after about a glass of wine, Margo mumbled to Slone, her voice low enough that I almost didn’t hear it, “I’m a little worried about Rachel.”
Slone nodded, voice quiet but firm. “I’m not sure why she is even in that relationship.”
I didn’t need context. I didn’t need any justification.
I wasn’t even sure what Margo meant by it, but when I got into my truck to drive back to Nashville the next day, I called my chief and asked for a transfer.
And then I called Anderson and asked for a realtor recommendation.
By the end of the week, I’d bought my house here in the city.
I glance at the phone again. That unknown number stares back up at me. I forward it to John. I have to know. If there is even the tiniest chance it’s my mom, I can’t ignore it.
I pull into Anderson and Margo’s driveway around six. The house looks exactly like it should. Warm porch lights glow against the soft blue-gray siding, the scent of grilled something and garlic already thick in the air. Voices drift out from the open windows.
I step out of the truck and stretch, arms overhead until my shoulders pop. Before I can lift my hand to the doorbell, the door swings open. Anderson grins like he has been waiting for me.
“Rhett, good to see you, man.”
I raise an eyebrow. “What, you got a sixth sense now? Or one of those smart-ass doorbells?”
He chuckles. “Neither. Margo said you’d be the first to show, other than Slone. She said you’re either early or dead-on time.”
I shake my head. “Remind me to give Margo shit for calling me predictable.”
“You say that like she’s wrong.”
“She’s not,” I admit, stepping inside.
I follow him down the hall toward the kitchen. Margo pulls a tray of roasted vegetables from the oven. The window above the sink fogs from the heat, and she waves a hand at it.
“Hey, Rhett,” she calls without turning. “You hungry?”
“Come on, Margo, you know I’m always hungry,” I say, setting the bottle of wine I brought on the counter. I add the six-pack next to it. “Figured this might earn me a plate.”
She turns just enough to flash a smile. “It helps. But honestly, you’re family, so I’d feed you either way.”
That lands in my chest the way only Margo’s words can.
Slone steps around the corner with a glass of wine in hand, wearing a flowy dress. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Slone in a dress without a forced reason.
“Hey, Rhett. Long time.”
“Good to see you, Slone. Didn’t expect you back so soon.”
She smiles into her glass. “Yeah, me neither. But I haven’t been here since the wedding, so I figured my brother was due for a sisterly visit. I can’t stay away too long without annoying him in some capacity.”
“Are you staying long? Otis with you?” I lean against the counter, arms crossed loosely. I casually look around, half expecting to see a seventy-five-pound golden retriever following her around.
“Just here for the weekend. And no, he’s home. Lexi is house-sitting and watching him for me. I needed a break from the Charleston heat, and with it being such a short trip, I didn’t want to force O in the car.”
“Smart move,” I say. “Though if Margo finds out Otis isn’t here, she might demand a redo next weekend.”
Slone laughs. “She already asked. Twice.”
My phone buzzes in my pocket. I glance down at the screen and see the same unknown number calling. Again? A familiar pressure settles beneath my sternum. This time, I decide I’m going to answer. Maybe then whoever it is will stop calling, or I’ll finally get answers.
“Excuse me for a sec,” I mutter, backing up toward the sliding glass door that leads to the patio. My hand hesitates for a second, then I step outside. My heart ticks a little faster as I lift the phone.
“Hello?”
I’m met with silence. I pull the phone from my ear to check if it’s still connected. My brows pull tight when I see the call continuing.
“Who is this?” I ask, trying not to sound freaked out.
“Hello? Who—” I start, but the words catch in my throat. Then I hear it: a familiar voice cutting through the tension, except it isn’t coming through the phone.
“Thanks for having us.”
I turn and see Rachel hugging Anderson. Relief washes over me in a way I didn’t expect. My grip tightens around the phone for a second before I decide to hang up.
I need to know who was calling, but right now I’m having trouble caring.
Sliding the door fully open and step back inside. Rachel is standing by the doorway with a small, familiar smile on her face. Everything else fades for a moment, the uneasy buzz of the unknown call dissolving into the background.
“It’s this big real estate firm out of Longchester,” Ben says. “High net-worth clients, serious investment potential. I’m heading up the rebranding strategy, all the big-picture stuff. The execs love me.”
I watch Rachel lean slightly closer, hand brushing his arm. “I thought we weren’t going to talk about work tonight, babe.”
Ben laughs, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Right. Sorry, sorry.”
He glances at Anderson. “She hates when I talk about work, but she doesn’t always get how important this stuff is. It’s not just a job. It’s a trajectory. It’s what is going to provide for our future.”
I have to hold in a scoff. He says it as if Rachel doesn’t have a doctorate in Physical Therapy, making more money than he does. It probably bothers him, since he is so clearly insecure.
“I do get it,” she says, quietly. “I just thought we could have one night that wasn’t about sales projections.”
Ben leans back, arm casually resting on the small of her back. “Of course, babe. You’re right.” He winks at her, then turns back to Anderson. “Anyway, I’ll spare you the details. I’m sure you’ve got your own projects you’re juggling. Probably a totally different pace.”
Anderson nods unfazed. “Different, yeah.”