Page 31 of Barbed Wire Fences
An hour later, I’m settled on the couch with the rest of the group, laughter spilling freely as we swap stories and relive memories from back in the day.
Despite my initial worries about how awkward it might feel hanging out with this group, I’m hit with an overwhelming sense of ease—like slipping into a favorite old sweater. There’s a comfort here, an effortless connection with these people who knew me during my most vulnerable, awkward at times and formative years.
They understand the family that I came from and have no judgment. They saw me at my worst and still chose to love me, and that kind of bond is something I haven’t felt with anyone ever since.
The room hums with energy as we keep up the playful banter, roasting each other and laughing about all the ridiculous things we used to do. Rhett brings up the time that we ran from the cops after stealing slushies from Fred’s and I laugh so hard beer snorts through my nose.
It’s the kind of laughter that leaves your cheeks aching and your stomach sore, and for a moment, I forget the weight of everything that’s brought me back to this town and all the pain that used to linger in the memories here.
Maybe coming back for this short visit will help me rebuild the memories I left behind into positive ones so that when I leave in a month, I’ll be able to look back fondly on my time in Whitewood Creek instead of ignoring the years I spent here. Maybe I’ll come back to visit these friends in the future.
At some point, the conversation shifts, and Molly leans closer to me, asking me about the whirlwind that’s been my life—my broken engagement, the messy details about why I’m back to settle my father’s will.
“Ugh, I’m sorry about your dad,” she shakes her head, “I swear no one in that trailer park had parents who were looking out for them but Rhett.”
I nod my head because she knows better than anyone the complicated emotions that come with the relationship I had with my parents. “Thank you.”
She nods. “I haven’t spoken to mine since he didn’t show up at Maverick’s funeral.”
“I’m so sorry. That’s horrible.”
She sips her water and nods. “Thank you. Even though I hadn’t seen Mav in years, it always felt good knowing he was still out there. Most days I don’t even realize he’s gone. Like maybe he’s just busy with his friends or working and that’s why we haven’t seen each other in a while.” She shrugs. “I wish my kids had been able to meet him. I like to think that if he’d been an uncle, he would have had a reason to change.”
I swallow and nod before squeezing her hand gently.
The guys are engrossed in their own debate over plumbing issues and football. It feels good to let someone from my past in, especially given Molly’s own journey back to Whitewood Creek – a messy divorce from an abusive ex-husband.
My eyes lock with Rhett’s from across the room, his confident grin stretching wider as he tosses me a wink in the middle of his conversation. My heart stumbles at that simple gesture, and I force myself to turn back to Molly like I’m unaffected.
Molly laughs gently. “Oh, okay, I see what’s happening here,” she whispers as I shake my head.
“What do you mean?”
Lainey’s voice cuts through the noise, announcing the start of our first game.
Molly nods at Rhett, something silent passing between them before she turns to me. “I’m going to grab a snack. You want anything?”
“Uh, no thanks.”
She slips away and just like that the space beside me is left wide open. Rhett doesn’t hesitate. One second, he’s across the room, the next he’s sliding onto the couch next to me. He doesn’t say a word, but his leg bumps mine as he settles in, sending a little jolt through me that I do my best to ignore.
It’s just Rhett. The boy who made my summers hell and heaven all at once, my childhood partner in crime, the one I used to secretly daydream about even when I swore that I hated him. And sure, maybe I had feelings once—big ones—but that was a lifetime ago. At least, that’s what I keep telling myself.
Still, when I sneak a glance his way, he’s already looking at me, that quiet, knowing smirk pulling at his lips like he can hear every lie that I’m feeding myself. The air between us feels heaviernow, charged with tension, and my breathing is slowing. I can’t tell if it’s the alcohol or Rhett that has me feeling dizzy.
I look away for a second before finding his gaze again like a magnet. And God, he smells good. Whiskey and cologne, warm and sharp all at once, curling around me until it settles low and deep in my stomach, leaving me wishing I wasn’t so damn aware of him.
“What?” I ask.
He smiles. “Nothing… Just remembering.”
I can’t help but wonder what he’s remembering and if it’s that night before graduation, the way it felt to finally give in to what had always been simmering under the surface.
Our first time.
???
“Rhett?” I whisper into the darkness around the lake, my voice barely carrying over the steady hum of crickets and the soft rush of the water in the distance.
