Page 57 of Barbed Wire Fences
He chuckles. “Go back to your hotel, get some rest, and then call me when you wake up to start your day. I own my own business, remember? I can be flexible, and the wait is worth it for you.”
Then he bends down and kisses my cheek gently before reopening Lark’s hospital room and slipping inside.
Chapter 17 – Jael
I’ve lost track of what day it is, but I know one thing for sure: the rest of my shift last night was a blur of distractions and daydreams, all centered around Rhett and the thought of our first official date since I came back to Whitewood Creek happening later today.
When my shift ended early this morning, I drove straight to the hotel where I’ve been staying, my body aching and begging for rest. The summer sun was already creeping through the blinds of the darkened room. My mind was racing too much to relax on its own, so I reluctantly popped a sleeping pill, slipped on a cooling face mask, and willed myself to shut all of the thoughts out. It worked a littletoowell.
By the time I finally wake up, my phone is flashing the time like a warning sign—3:03 p.m.
Shit.
Any other guy expecting a date with me would have blown up my phone by now, sending a flurry of texts or passive-aggressive messages asking where I am or if I’m standing them up. But Rhett would never do that. Despite everything that’s happenedbetween us—the fights, the heartbreak, the loss of years—he’s always been steady, always respectful. It doesn’t surprise me that he’d give me the space and time I needed to rest without a single complaint or checking in at the risk it might wake me.
I grab my phone, pull up his contact, and start typing out a text to explain.
Jael: Hey Rhett, I’m so sorry... I just woke up.
He responds almost immediately.
Rhett: There’s no need to apologize. I’m glad you got to rest. I had a feeling you really needed that. Feel better now?
Jael:I do. Thank you.
Rhett:Good, because I have plans for your evening.
Jael:Oh really?
I wait for him to respond to tell me what he has planned, biting my lip nervously. My stomach flutters like I’m eighteen years old again; dating the guy who’d been one of my closest friends turned boyfriend.
There’s something so familiar about Rhett that stirs up all these old memories of nostalgia for the person I used to be. Someone who stressed less about the future and didn’t let the ghosts of her past dictate the decisions of her future. It’s the feeling of being able to be myself around him that I’ve never felt around any other man I’ve ever dated. There’s no pretending when it comes to Rhett. He’s already seen me at my worst.
Rhett: I’ve got something I want to show you. When do you think you can be ready by? No rush.
Sitting up in bed, I pad into the hotel bathroom to assess myself. Mascara fills my under-eye bags, and drool is crusted at the corner of my lips. I’m a vision, just not a good one.
Jael: Give me an hour. I need to shower first. I can meet you wherever you want.
Rhett texts back with the address where I should meet him when I’m done, indicating that if he wasn’t still at a job site, he’d pick me up first. I tell him I don’t mind the drive; at least this way, if things go south tonight, I’ll have my car to escape like I did after Owen’s date.
Fifty minutes, a long shower, and head to toe shaving later, I’m pulling up to the address that he sent.
It’s a little outside the main stretch of Whitewood Creek where we grew up—an area that I’ve never explored before bordering the Marshall family property. Long, private driveways dot the roadside, leading to modern houses tucked behind dense trees with plenty of space and privacy between them.
It’s not the kind of area that I’d call “wealthy” by big-city standards, like the ones I’d seen in Richmond, but for our small town? It’s pretty upscale.
I crane my neck as I drive, trying to get a better look at the houses hidden behind the trees, wondering if one of these belongs to Rhett and when he would have bought it.
My GPS chirps, instructing me to turn right down a freshly paved blacktop road lined with barbed-wire fences and a prominently displayedNo Trespassingsign. The road winds deeper into the thick forest, crossing over a narrow bridge where our town’s namesake creek babbles below.
When I make it to the other side, and his home comes into view, my breath catches in my throat. A small hill rises ahead, and at the top sits a stunning modern style log cabin. It’s not the kind of home I ever imagined Rhett living in but somehow, it makes sense.
The sleek lines of the house contrast beautifully with the rustic log detailing, and it’s nestled perfectly among towering evergreen trees. The landscaping in the front is simple and practical: bushes, a few trees and no flowers, with a small porch that seems to wrap around the back of the cabin.
I swallow hard, nerves fluttering in my stomach as I park and make my way to the front door. It’s painted a deep forest green that blends seamlessly with the surrounding trees, and a stained-glass window in the shape of an oar sits at the top center.
“Rhett?” I call softly after knocking on the heavy door, my voice carrying into the stillness of the land.
