Chapter 29-Rhett
590 Words
She didn’t step back.
That was the first thing.
Most people did. The second it got too close, too real, they put space between it. Didn’t matter how they felt—it was instinct. Self-preservation.
She didn’t.
She stayed where she was.
Held it.
Felt it.
That wasn’t nothing.
That was choice.
I saw it in the way her shoulders didn’t shift, the way her feet stayed planted, the way her eyes didn’t drop right away like they should have. She felt it just as much as I did, and she didn’t move.
That stuck harder than anything else.
When I stepped closer, it wasn’t to test it.
I already knew what was there.
The way she looked at me.
The way her breathing changed just enough to notice.
The way the air between us shifted like it had weight to it.
That kind of thing didn’t need words.
Didn’t need explaining.
It just was.
Clear.
Uncomplicated.
And for a second—
it would’ve been easy.
Too easy.
Then her phone buzzed.
And everything changed.
Immediate.
The shift in her was sharp enough to feel without looking for it. It wasn’t big, not something most people would catch, but it was there.
The way she stepped back.
The way her hand moved too fast for something that didn’t matter.
The way her voice didn’t quite hold when she said sorry.
That wasn’t a normal interruption.
That wasn’t someone checking in.
That was something she expected.
Something she didn’t want.
I watched her as she looked at the screen.
Didn’t try to hide it.
Didn’t need to.
The tension was already there.
Built into the way she held the phone.
Built into the way her eyes stayed on it just a second too long.
When she looked back up, she said it was nothing.
It wasn’t.
Didn’t match.
Didn’t even come close.
I didn’t call her out on it.
Not like that.
Not here.
But I didn’t let it go either.
Because whatever it was—
it followed her here.
That part mattered.
I stepped closer again.
Not enough to push.
Just enough to shift the space back.
To remind her I was still there.
“Doesn’t look like nothing,” I said.
Kept my voice even.
Didn’t make it a question.
Her eyes flicked up to mine, just for a second.
Then away again.
That told me everything I needed to know.
She wasn’t ready to say it.
Fine.
Didn’t mean I was going to ignore it.
I let the silence sit for a second, watching her, giving her space without backing off completely. Most people filled that kind of silence. Tried to smooth it over.
She didn’t.
She just stood there.
Holding it in.
That kind of control didn’t come from nowhere.
That came from practice.
And that didn’t sit right.
Because it meant this wasn’t new.
Whatever was going on—
she had dealt with it before.
That thought stayed.
I didn’t like it.
Didn’t know enough to act on it yet.
But I wasn’t missing it either.
I glanced back toward the fire for a second, voices still carrying, people close enough that nothing needed to turn into something bigger than it already was.
Not here.
Not like this.
But I wasn’t dropping it.
Not after that.
When I looked back at her, she still hadn’t moved much. Still holding herself tighter than she had before.
That stuck too.
“Alright,” I said finally.
Simple.
Like I was letting it go.
I wasn’t.
Not even close.
- Writer
