Page 207 of The Fine Line
“I was always good at hiding things,” he murmurs. “But he could see it. The cracks. He saw through my shit before my shit even really started. And he wasn’t shy about calling it out. He knew how to get under my skin. I don’t know if he was threatened by me or just plain hated me. But he didn’t make my lifeeasy. And then when I got drafted by Chicago… and it wasn’t just a few weeks of my summer having to deal with him, but a whole career having to play under him with no one else in my corner…”
I don’t speak, my eyes on him. He swallows thickly, eyes still on the dark stretch of lake.
“I was so lost. So lonely. And then I got hurt… just an ankle sprain that I could’ve gotten through in a week’s time. But then I was introduced to Oxycodone. And for the first time, there was something that just made it all… go away. All the pain. The stuff no one could see. I got hooked. Started with the Oxy. Then the coke. Then before I knew it, I was out every night chasing… I don’t even know what. Hoping one of the girls would stay. That one of them would… I don’t know… fill whatever was missing.”
He shifts, wincing slightly as he adjusts his brace. His fingers tighten on the blanket. “And then one night, I picked the wrong girl. The very wrong one.”
My stomach drops. “What do you mean?”
His jaw works. “She was married.”
“Oh,” I mutter.
“To him,” he says, his eyes finally shifting to meet mine. “To Holt.”
“Oh.” I cover my mouth with my hand, a sharp breath leaving me. “Rhett…”
He shakes his head, voice distant, raw. “I didn’t know. I barely knew what planet I was on most days back then, much less that Holt was even married. Then we were celebrating our last game of the season. Everyone was drinking. I was crossfaded beyond belief. The lowest of my lows. I ran into her. And then we ended up in the bathroom and…” His voice fades. He presses a hand to his eyes, dragging it down his face. “He walked in on us. And I was so far gone. So fucking twisted up, I didn’t even stop. I didn’t think. I just… I snapped. I beat him so bad he ended up in thehospital. I fucked his wife and I nearly killed him, and I didn’t even recognize the person I’d become.”
The weight of the confession hits me like a stone. My hand drops from my mouth, but I can’t find any words. I just stare.
“I was done,” he murmurs. “Knew it before they even said it. I was off the team. No home. No friends. No future. Nothing.”
I find my voice somehow. “And then?”
He nods faintly. “Bennett gave me a second chance. Texas gave me a second chance. I wanted to be different. Better. I stayed clean. Mostly. A few slips. But nothing like before.”
The flames from the fire cast shadows across his face, painting him in amber and gold. He looks… tired. Wrecked. But still so heartbreakingly beautiful it almost hurts.
“I kept it together for years,” he says quietly. “But then… then this Baby Bear came along.”
He tilts his head at me, and I can’t help the smile that tugs at my lips.
“And a whole new layer was added to the mix. Everything shifted,” he whispers. “All the old things—the cracks, the weight, the fear… it started creeping back. Because you made me want more. Made me believe I could have more. And the thought of losing it… of losing you… it terrified me.”
My heart clenches so hard it’s a wonder I’m still breathing.
I shift closer without thinking, brushing my fingertips along the side of his hand. His eyes finally meet mine, and I see the truth in them. The ache. The hope.
“Rhett,” I whisper.
He swallows. “Come here,” he says softly.
I scoot closer, but he shakes his head. He tugs on my hand until I stand up, and then he pulls me down into his lap. I hover above him. “I don’t want to hurt you,” I whisper.
“You couldn’t,” he says, guiding me down the rest of the way.
“But I already did.” My voice cracks.
“Cub…”
“About the Titans job,” I say, swallowing. “I interviewed for it when we were in New York. Before you and I were ever really…”
Rhett’s thumb brushes across my knuckles, exhaling.
“I had no idea I would ever get it. Obviously, I hoped, but I knew there were a lot more men out there with a lot more experience than me?—”
“That only know half of what you do.”
