MAKE HIM BELIEVE IT
1315 Words
MIA
“Did you have something to do with my father’s death?”
The question comes out quieter than I intend.
Rhett goes completely still.
For several seconds, he doesn't answer. He simply looks at me, his expression giving away nothing. The silence stretches between us until I can hear the faint hum of something running outside the room.
“Saint told me you had a hand in it,” I say when he continues to stare at me. “He said you were involved somehow.”
Rhett's jaw tightens. “He told you that?”
“Yes.”
“And you believed him?”
“I did.”
His eyes stay on mine. “Do you still believe him?”
I hesitate. “I don't know.”
Something shifts in his expression, so subtle I almost miss it.
“You didn't answer my question,” I say.
“Neither did you.”
“I asked first.”
“You always did like getting your way.”
Despite everything, the corner of my mouth almost lifts.
“You remember that?”
“I remember you.”
The words settle between us. My smile disappears.
Rhett seems to realize what he said because his gaze moves away, settling on the workbench behind me.
I look at him more carefully.
Three years ago, he could make me laugh without trying. He was easy with me, always teasing, always finding some reason to annoy me whenever he came to the clubhouse. I never understood what was behind some of those looks until it became too obvious to ignore.
Now he barely looks at me for more than a few seconds at a time.
“Then answer me,” I say softly. “Did you have anything to do with my father's death?”
He finally looks back at me. “Your father made enemies.”
“That isn't what I asked.”
“I know.”
“Then why aren't you answering?”
“Because I don't think you're asking me for the truth.”
I frown. “What else would I be asking for?”
“You want something that will make everything you've believed for three years easier to understand.”
“I want to know whether you killed my father.”
His eyes harden. “I didn't say that.”
“But you didn't say you didn't.”
Rhett leans back in the chair, his hands resting loosely against his thighs. His tattoos disappear beneath the sleeves of his shirt, but I can still see the dark ink covering his knuckles. I remember those hands from years ago, before they became rougher, more scarred.
“You weren't there when your father died,” he says. “Neither was I.”
I stare at him. “That doesn't sounds like an answer.”
His gaze doesn't leave mine. “You should be asking yourself why Saint was so quick to tell you it was me.”
My stomach tightens. “Because you disappeared.”
“Does disappearing make someone guilty?”
“No.”
“Then why does it make me guilty?”
“Because you never came back.”
His expression changes slightly. “You think I left because I was afraid you'd find out what I did?”
“Didn't you?”
He frowns slightly that I bite my lips inwardly.
“Then why did you leave?”
Rhett looks toward the door before answering.
“Staying wasn't going to fix anything.”
“That doesn't make sense.
A faint breath leaves him, almost a laugh but not quite.
I look down at my hands.
“Saint was the only person I had after my father died. He told me you were involved, and I believed him because I trusted him.”
Rhett's face becomes unreadable. “You loved him.”
It isn't a question. “Yes.”
“And you still do?”
I don't answer immediately. Then I whisper, “I don't know.”
His eyes remain on me. Something about his silence makes me look up.
He is watching me differently now. Not with pity. Not with curiosity.
Like he's trying to decide whether there is something he should say.
“Did you not hate my father?” I ask.
Rhett's expression shifts. “He was a man I respected.”
His gaze drops briefly. It lasts only a second.
Then I remember where I am, why I'm here, and who left me behind.
“About Saint he—
“You don't have to talk about him.” He cuts me off at once.
“I do. He was my husband.”
“He was?”
The past tense catches me. I look at him.
Rhett doesn't correct himself and looks away. Something in his posture becomes rigid, like he's forcing himself not to react.
I laugh bitterly under my breath.
“After everything he did, some part of me still wants him to come through that door and tell me he made a mistake.”
Rhett's expression hardens. “He won't.”
The certainty in his voice makes me look at him.
“How do you know?”
“Because he already made his choice.”
My chest aches. “You sound like you wanted him to choose me.”
Rhett goes completely still. I realize what I've said.
His eyes hold mine. For a moment, neither of us looks away.
Then he stands up to leave. “You need to rest.”
He walks toward the door.
“Rhett.” I call sharply.nHe stops but doesn't turn. “Why did you help me?”
His hand rests on the door handle. “You called me.”
“I don’t believe that.”
He turns his head slightly to look at me. Before he can say something, three gentle knocks sound against the other side of the door.
Rhett pauses.
A man opens the door carefully and steps inside. He looks at Rhett first, then briefly at me before walking over to him.
“Boss.”
Rhett nods.
The man leans closer and whispers something into his ear.
I can't hear what he says. But I see Rhett's reaction.
His brow draws together, his jaw tightening as he listens. Whatever the man tells him, it isn't good.
The man straightens and Rhett gives him a short nod. “Go.”
The man leaves, closing the door behind him. Rhett stands there for another second before turning toward me.
“Seems like your husband found us.”
My heart drops. “Saint?”
He nods. “Stay here. Don't come out. Understood?”
I swallow hard as he turns toward the door again to leave.
“Rhett.”
He looks back.
I don't know where the words come from. Maybe from the part of me that is still furious. Maybe from the part that wants Saint to feel even a fraction of what I felt when he carried Maren away.
“Tell Saint I'm dead.”
Rhett's eyes narrow slightly. “What?”
“Tell him I didn't make it.”
“Mia—”
“Please.”
He watches me for a long moment. “You want me to lie to your husband?”
I shake my head. “He isn't my husband anymore.”
Something changes in Rhett's face.
I take a breath, forcing myself to meet his eyes.
“Tell him the woman he chose over me didn't survive.”
Rhett says nothing. He simply looks at me, and for the first time since I woke up, I wonder what he is thinking.
Then he gives a slow nod. “Stay here.”
He opens the door and stops “Whatever happens outside, don't come looking for me.”
“Rhett?”
He pauses again.
I hold his gaze. “Make him believe it.”
His eyes darken
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