Chapter 16 #2
I try to take another breath. I can see Sunny. I can feel her hand on my chest. I can hear her breathing. My vision begins to steady.
“You can see the blue sky above us,” she starts. “You can feel my hand, right here on your chest.” She wiggles her fingers against my shirt. “You can hear the cars going by.”
Her list doesn’t slow the panic, so I repeat mine. I see her; Sunny’s dark brown eyes fixed on me. I feel the warmth of her fingers as they brush my neck. I hear her whisper, “You’re okay, Rhett. You’re safe with me.”
After a few minutes, the tremor in my hands eases. My breathing still isn’t perfect, but it’s something. I rest my head against the cold brick behind me, keeping my eyes closed.
Rachel stays beside me, her other hand still gripping mine.
“Better?” she whispers.
“Yeah,” I breathe. “Yeah, I think so.”
We sit there for a minute, the city noise muffled beyond the alley. I realize I’m still holding her hand, and for once, I don’t force myself to let it go.
When I finally speak, my voice is low, almost swallowed by the quiet. “I’m sorry you had to come get me like that. I didn’t know who else to call. And I know I didn’t leave us on the best of terms after Margo’s dinner.”
Her brow furrows, and she squeezes my hand lightly. “Don’t apologize,” she says, her voice soft. “I’m just glad you called.”
I nod, staring at the cracks in the pavement. My throat tightens again, but for a different reason. Something heavier than panic.
“What happened?” she asks after a moment, her gaze never leaving mine. “Something must’ve triggered it.”
I hesitate, searching for a safe deflection. “Oh… uh.” My hands twist in my lap. “It was nothing. Work has been… stressful. And I—just overdid it running, I guess.”
She leans closer, her hand brushing my wrist. “Rhett,” she says firmly, but with care. “You can trust me.” And when I hesitate, she says, “Remember my twenty-first birthday?”
I glance up, caught between memory and embarrassment. “Yeah.”
“You found me over the toilet,” she continues, “I was freaking out because I knew Josh would be mad at me for overdoing it. He warned me, and I didn’t listen.
You promised you wouldn’t tell him. You held my hair.
You helped me shower. I trusted you then, Rhett.
You never told Josh. I owe you for that. You can trust me now.”
Her eyes bore into mine, gentle but unyielding. I swallow hard, the weight of her words pressing against my chest.
I swallow hard. “My mom.”
Rachel blinks. “What about her?”
“She found me,” I say, my voice tight, words clawing their way out. “On the street. Out of nowhere. She just—walked up to me. Said my name. Said she was my mom.”
Rachel stares at me, her mouth slightly open, as if she didn’t hear me right. Then her face hardens. Her jaw tightens, and I watch as a flash of anger sparks in her eyes.
“She found you?” she repeats, voice edged with disbelief. She leans forward, resting her elbows on her knees while her hands curl into fists. “After all these years?”
I nod, numb. “Yeah. Said she just wanted to see me once. Twenty years…” My voice trails off. “All it took was twenty years to pass for her to want to see me.”
Rachel shakes her head, looking away for a second. I watch as she bites her lip as she tries to rein herself in. “Unbelievable,” she mutters under her breath. “Who the hell does she think she is? She thinks she can just walk up after abandoning you and expect—what? Closure? Forgiveness?”
I don’t answer. My throat knots, and I can feel my hands trembling in my lap. I don’t think I can speak without breaking down.
She turns her attention back to me, her anger still simmering. She leans closer, her hand brushing my shoulder lightly. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Rhett,” she says firmly. “Don’t you dare feel bad for needing help. Or for feeling this.”
I close my eyes for a single second. “It’s not like she never wanted me in the first place, Sunny,” I say, my voice breaking slightly.
“Maybe I could have handled it then. She would have never known me fully. She would have given up the idea of me. But she had me. She was my mom for twelve years. And then… after twelve years, she decided she didn’t want me. ”
I keep my eyes shut, afraid she’ll see the raw fracture inside me.
I don’t want her to see why I can’t love her the way she deserves.
How can I even know what unconditional love is if my own mother couldn’t show me?
Who’s to say I won’t wake up in five years and flee just like she did?
I couldn’t bear to hurt Sunny like that—not again.
She shifts closer, her hand now firmly holding mine.
“Rhett, that woman doesn’t deserve to know the man you are,” she says, and I try to force myself to believe her.
“She made the biggest mistake of her life twenty years ago when she walked away from you. And I can’t fix what she did.
Hell, I can’t even understand how she could take one look at you, let alone spend twelve years with you, and walk away. ”
I open my eyes and finally look at her. Her gaze meets mine, steady, filled with something I don’t deserve but desperately need.
“But you, Rhett Hayes, are my favorite person on this Earth,” she says, her voice shaking slightly, “and you are kind, and strong, and a person worth sticking around for. Worth loving. And I’m so sorry she ever made you doubt that.”
The words don’t land the way I expect. They don’t bruise.
They don’t demand anything. They settle, soft and careful, right into the cracks she didn’t cause but somehow sees anyway.
After everything I hurled at her the other night.
After all the force I tried to use to make her understand. She still meets me with gentleness.
A tear slips free and tracks down her cheek. I lift my thumb and brush it away before I can think better of it, careful not to linger, afraid she’ll feel the tremor I haven’t managed to bury yet.
“I’m sorry, Sunny. Don’t cry. Please, don’t cry,” I murmur, my fingers tightening around hers.
She laughs softly, a fragile sound that somehow pulls a little light into the alley. “You sure do like to tell me what to do,” she jokes, nudging my hand with hers.
The corner of my mouth twitches despite myself. I swallow, the question rising before I can stop it.
“You still feel that way,” I ask, “even after I yelled at you at Margo’s?”
“Yes,” she says simply. Then she tilts her head, studying me. “Don’t get me wrong, Hayes, you drive me absolutely insane sometimes. Like, truly. Olympic-level infuriating.”
A breath almost laughs its way out of me before I can stop it.
“But,” she continues, squeezing my hand, “you’re still one of my favorite people. Don’t let that go to your head, Margo might have you beat. But it’s close.”
I shake my head, disbelief creeping in. “You’re not mad?”
“I was mad,” she admits. “I am mad. But I can be mad and still care about you. Trust me, those things aren’t mutually exclusive.”
I huff out a breath and shake my head. “Thanks, Sunny, for helping me today.” My thumb brushes once against her knuckles, then stills. “And I’ll work on pissing you off less.”
Something in me loosens then. The last bit of tension I’ve been holding onto since that perfume hit my nose.
I lean back against the wall again and close my eyes.
I let the air move in and out, slow and steady, matching hers.
I can see Sunny, I can feel her skin touching my skin, and I can hear her sweet voice.
I was right. After all these years, I knew who I’d want sitting beside me on my worst day. It is her. It has always been her.