Page 60 of Barbed Wire Fences
I know this is supposed to be a first date, but nothing about this moment feels casual. This isn’t the light, easy chemistry of two people getting to know each other over dinner. No, this is deeper. Weightier. It’s years of history resurfacing. It’s remembering the way he used to touch me, the way his hands felt between my legs, the way he made me feel safe in a world that wasn’t.
Rhett isn’t just looking at me, he’s seeing me. And it’s stirring all that back up.
It’s that same need I’ve always felt from him—to protect me, to challenge me, to show me that I’ve been wrong about so many things, maybe even about him. And as much as I hate to admit it, I can’t stop hoping that deep down, he’s thinking about howto convince me that he’s the right person for me. That he always has been.
I don’t need that much convincing but I’m wondering if he does. I wouldn’t blame him if he did.
His eyes are intense, burning into mine as if he’s searching for any sign of hesitation in my reaction to his words. But there’s no shame in his expression, no regret. He’s not taking anything back, and that quiet confidence, the certainty in his feelings, has me lowering all my defenses.
I want Rhett. That much is clear. And for the first time, there’s a part of me, maybe it’s foolish, that thinks maybe he wants me too.
The realization hits like a freight train, the weight of it settling on me as I think back to the drive here tonight. It’d hit me then that I haven’t allowed myself to pursue new relationships, not even casual hookups, since Christopher and I ended things six months ago.
I’ve never stopped to unpack why that was, blamed it on my crazy traveling schedule, but now, sitting here with Rhett, the answer feels uncomfortably obvious.
It’s becauseIdidn’t feel worthy. Because somewhere over the past five years I convinced myself that Christopher was the best I could do, that we’d eventually reconcile, and I’d overlook all the ways he’s hurt me—his wandering eyes, his selfishness, his inability to make me feel like I mattered and I’d end up settling for a mediocre life with him.
For far too long, I clung to the hope that he’d realize I was the one he wanted and that we’d somehow build a life together. That I’d finally feel chosen. But now that life looks empty and void of any real true love or safety.
And it’s not that things with Rhett were any easier. They’ve never been simple. They’ve always been messy and complicated and charged with more emotion than I’ve ever felt with anyone else. We have a history, one that’s impossible to ignore. And just a few nights ago, I’d thrown myself at him in Lainey’s basement like a woman starved, only to have him shut me down with a finality that stung more than any rejection Christopher could have delivered me.
So now, here I am, trying to decipher what’s running through his mind as he looks at me like…that.
Does he feel this too? Is he thinking the same things I am? Or is this just another moment I’ll overthink, only to end up pushing him away again? I’ve done it before, frankly, I’ve been doing it for years but maybe this return to Whitewood Creek is exactly what I need to make peace with my past.
Withourpast.
Or maybe, this whole night was just a horrible idea.
“Rhett… should I? S-should I… Maybe I should go,” I say slowly moving to my feet. I walk towards the door cautiously, backing away like a scared animal, feeling the burn of the salty tears fill the back of my throat. The last time Christopher and I fought I did the same thing, and I remember hoping he’d follow me. Hoping he’d chase me down and tell me the whole thing was a joke.
He didn’t.
But this time is different. There’s no hesitation in Rhett at all.
His long strides devour the distance between us, and before I can take another step his fingers wrap around my wrist, firm but not hurting, tugging me straight into him until I’m pressed against the solid warmth of his chest. My face ends up buried in the softhair there, breathing in his masculine scent. It instantly calms me.
“Jael, don’t go. Please.” His voice is rough and a little broken, the sound of a man trying not to lose something he’s only just gotten back. Guilt spikes through me, sharp and hot, for even thinking of leaving after he put so much effort into this date.
What is wrong with me? Why do I keep sabotaging good things? Another topic for my therapist when I get back to Virginia, I guess.
I nod, but it’s a shaky, conflicted motion, my mind a tangle of noise and panic and hope as I try to make sense of what’s happening.
“Hey,” Rhett says softly, his voice cutting through the swirl of emotions running rampant inside me. His fingers move with a careful tenderness to cup my cheek, tilting my face upward until my eyes meet his. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. I don’t know the guy, but hearing that another jerk is tugging you around and talking out of his ass—just like Owen did all those years ago…”
He trails off, letting go of my hand to rake his fingers through his hair, his jaw tightening as he looks past me. The loss of his touch is immediate, like a tether snapping loose, and it leaves me aching, wanting to reach for him again but I don’t.
“It pisses me off,” he continues, his voice rough. “You deserved better than how he treated you back then. You deserve better now. I hope you know that.”
And I do know that. I’ve known it for a while now, long before I ever stepped foot back in Whitewood Creek. But hearing Rhett say it aloud, with a mix of frustration and care that only he can pull off, makes me feel seen in a way I haven’t felt in years.
For so long, I’ve put the needs of the men in my life above my own. It started with my father—his abuse, his addictions, his endless demands always taking precedence over the basics I needed just to survive. I became his parent, long before I even knew what it meant to be a child.
That pattern followed me, straight into Owen and Christopher and every man that I’ve been with since. Always giving, always bending, always breaking just a little more each time and quickly losing myself along the way.
But Rhett’s the only man who’s never expected me to carry him. The only man who’s been strong enough to let me simply exist without asking for more than I could give.
He’s always been the one to step in when I needed him and stand back when I didn’t, and I never realized until now just how much that’s meant to me. How much I’ve missed it. How much I flourished when I was with him.
