Chapter 28
Chapter Twenty-eight
RHETT
Ihave a habit of waking up early. It’s one of the few parts of my life I can control, and my job has forced me into it.
There is something about the mornings out here on the lake, about watching the sun stretch across the water, that makes it worth it.
I take a sip of coffee and lean back on the porch stairs, letting the quiet fill the spaces my thoughts usually occupy.
My phone lights up on the deck beside me. Unknown Caller.
I know who it is. I’m not sure what else she could possibly have to say, and I have no desire to hear it. And yet, for some reason I can’t explain, I answer the call.
“Hello.”
“Rhett?”
I close my eyes. “Victoria.”
“Oh, wow.” Her voice pitches higher. “Sorry, I guess I didn’t expect you to answer.” She pauses. “I didn’t think you would want to talk to me.”
“I don’t.” I shift my weight on the deck. “But I have something I need to get off my chest.”
There is a hitch in her breath, but she doesn’t interrupt.
“For a long time, I thought there was something wrong with me. That if my own mother couldn’t stay, then I must not have been worth staying for.
” I take a steadying breath. “Up until recently, it shaped every part of my life. I spent years trying to fix myself so people wouldn’t leave.
I thought love was conditional, something you earned only by becoming worthy of it. ”
“Rhett,” she whispers.
“But I was wrong,” I continue. “I’ve had people in my life who loved me without conditions. My dad. My friends.”
I take a deep breath. “It was right in front of me all along, and I wasted so much time doubting it. But I realized something important. Despite never having been given that love from you the way I should have been, I can love fully. I can love unconditionally. I love her. And that means I was never broken. You were.”
She tries to speak, but I force the words out.
“I’m not angry anymore. But I’m also not ready to have you back in my life.
I need space that isn’t interrupted by explanations, apologies or guilt.
And I don’t want you to speak to Rachel.
If I find out you go behind my back to talk to her again, we will never have a relationship. ”
“So this is goodbye?” she asks, voice trembling.
“This is a boundary,” I say. “I’m asking you not to call me again. Not until I say I’m ready. And I need you to respect that. Goodbye, Mom.”
I end the call and hold the phone for a moment, letting the weight of it settle. The lake stretches before me, and for the first time in my adult life, I know this to be true: I am worthy of unconditional love. I am capable of giving it. And I know exactly where mine lives.
In the kitchen, I grab the coffee filters and an oversized bag of beans. I start grinding the beans. The rhythmic whir fills the silence.
Footsteps creak on the stairs.
Margo appears first, wrapped in a soft gray cardigan, her sleepy smile reserved for mornings like this. I have seen this version of her at the lake house hundreds of times. Anderson follows, one hand lazily resting on her waist, like he would rather be back in bed with her than anywhere else.
“Smells like you’re trying to win some points,” Margo says, sliding onto a stool at the island.
“More like trying to keep all of you from turning into monsters before caffeine,” I say, pouring the first cup and handing it to her.
Anderson claps me on the back. “Appreciated, man. You’re doing the Lord’s work.”
I pass him a mug too, and we stand in easy silence, the three of us sipping and watching the lake through the big glass doors. The water is still, like it hasn’t decided what kind of day it wants to be yet.
Then I see Rachel coming down the stairs.
I brace myself, half-expecting that stiff awkwardness she has been wearing since we were together. But instead, she smiles, and my world stops. Her smile hasn’t always had such a dramatic effect, but lately, there is no other way to describe what it does to me.
“Morning,” she says, hair still wet from a shower, her tank top tucked loosely into her joggers.
“Morning,” I echo, watching her cross the kitchen and pour herself a cup.
I’m trying to keep it casual. I said what I needed to last night, and she needs space to think.
I know Rachel. She wants to look at this from every angle.
She needs to realize she is still that girl, the one she is convinced she has lost.
She glances over at me once, quickly. “Thanks for making the coffee, Rhett.”
“No problem.”
One by one, the rest of the group trickles in. Slone stretches and flops onto the couch. Connor looks like he has already been on a run. Lexi trails behind him, wrapped in a blanket, and Wes follows.
“So,” Margo nudges Anderson with her knee, “what’s the plan for today?”
“I vote for something on the water,” Slone says, stretching her arms over her head. “It’s too nice to waste.”
“We could rent a boat,” I offer. “There’s a marina about fifteen minutes from here. They’ve got pontoons and deck boats.”
Rachel looks up. “Ooo, that sounds fun.”
“Lake day it is,” Anderson says, clapping his hands once. “I’ll make a reservation.”
Lexi groans but smiles. “Fine, but I’m not doing any of that tubing nonsense. Last time I nearly lost a contact.”
“God forbid,” Wes teases.
Anderson takes charge as he always does, already on the phone with the marina, rattling off how many of us there are and asking if coolers are allowed.
Connor wanders over to the fridge. “Do we have stuff for sandwiches? Or are we planning on being out there with nothing but vibes and sunscreen?”
“We’ve got bread, turkey, and at least three different types of chips,” Margo says, rifling through a cabinet. “Oh, and fruit. I cut some up last night.”
Slone looks over. “Look at you, Mom of the group.”
“I’m just making sure everyone has enough carb options to soak up the inevitable alcohol intake,” Margo replies dryly, then sips her coffee.
“Lexi, did you bring the speaker?” Rachel asks. I glance at her again, noticing the way she stays close to Margo.
Lexi nods. “It’s charged and waterproof.”
“Unlike Wes’s phone,” Connor says, earning a middle finger from Wes, who’s still rubbing sleep from his face.
“Okay,” Anderson announces, slipping his phone into his pocket. “We’re set. Noon pick-up at the dock. We’ll have the boat for four hours. They’re throwing in some floats and a lily pad thing.”
“I don’t know what that is, but I’m in,” Slone says.
“It’s like a floating mat,” I explain. “You can lie on it or run across it until someone inevitably knocks you into the water.”
“Sounds dangerous. Love that for us,” Wes says.
Everyone scatters after that. Some head upstairs to change, some to help pack snacks and towels. I stay back in the kitchen, putting the coffee stuff away. Rachel lingers by the counter, slicing some strawberries with a small paring knife.
“Do you always wake up early?” she asks, not looking at me.
“Force of habit,” I say, watching her. “Firehouse life, I guess. Even when I’m off, my brain still thinks I need to be up and moving at six.”
“Well, thanks for making coffee. Seriously.”
“You already said that, Sunny,” I say gently, offering a half-smile.
Rachel finally looks up, eyes catching mine.
“I know,” she says. “Just wanted you to know I mean it.”
Before I can respond, Margo calls her name from the other room, asking something about sunscreen. Rachel sets the knife down and walks away, her shoulder brushing mine as she passes.
By the time the clock edges toward noon, the cabin turns into a chaotic flurry of sunscreen, coolers, towels and half-zipped bags. Everyone comes downstairs in waves, dressed for the lake.
“I call shotgun with Wes,” Slone announces, tossing her bag over her shoulder.
“You just want control of the aux,” Wes grumbles, but doesn’t fight her on it.
“I earned it,” she says, already sliding into the front seat of one of the SUVs.
I help Anderson and Connor load the coolers into the back of his car while Margo double-checks that the speaker, the snacks and the SPF 50 are accounted for.
Rachel is the last to step out of the house.
I can’t stop myself from studying her, though I fight the impulse to linger too long.
The white cover-up drapes over her frame, loose and semi-sheer, cinched carelessly at the waist. Sunglasses rest atop her head, and her braid has already started to soften at the edges, stray strands curling in the humidity.
She catches my gaze and arches an eyebrow. “What?”
“Nothing,” I say, too fast.
I have always loved the views from this house, but she might be my favorite.
Once we’re all outside, we split into two cars and take the long, winding road toward the marina. The lake comes into view slowly at first, glimpses between the trees, teasing. Then suddenly, it’s there all at once, wide and glittering under the early afternoon sun.
It looks like something out of a postcard—calm, green-blue water cradled by steep, wooded hills. Shorelines alternate between jagged rock and soft sand. Private docks jut out from hidden coves, little secrets waiting for discovery. Somehow, time slows the minute you get near it.
By the time we pull into the gravel parking lot at the marina, the sun is high, heat pressing down. Everyone sweats as we haul bags down the dock, shifting on tired feet, waiting for the rental guy to finish his checklist.
“Oh, I also rented a Jet Ski, if anyone’s interested,” Anderson calls.
I catch Rachel’s reaction immediately. Her eyes light up, a grin spreading across her face. She loves riding a damn Jet Ski, loves the speed, the spray of water, the way it makes her feel untamed.
I feel a swell in my chest just watching her. I hope the water lets her be herself again, even if just for a few hours, wild and unstoppable.
Wes replies immediately. “Sweet! I call first ride!”
When we finally board the boat, someone whistles.
“This thing is sick.” Connor drops his bag on one of the padded benches.