by Liz Talley
Nothing he’d done to that point—therapy, acupuncture, sex, running until he puked—had been able to knit together the open wound in his soul. Perhaps the people who knew him, people who understood that beneath the shiny exterior was a man who was good, could help him discover himself again. He needed to be here in Moonlight, tucked into the place that had made him. Here he’d learned to conquer insecurity, overcome whatever came his way, become a man who’d climbed to the top of the ratings of late-night TV. If he could do it before, he could do it again. Moonlight and its people could bring him back from the darkness.
“I have to go. Band’s waiting,” Summer said.
“I wish you wouldn’t. I feel better when you’re with me.” He meant the words. Even as he acknowledged what they could set into motion. This was Summer Valentine, the girl who’d loved him once.
“Don’t do this, Rhett. Don’t say things you shouldn’t.”
“I’m not. I like being with you. I feel more myself than I have in ages.”
“I can’t fix what’s wrong with you. You know that, right? And I won’t be your distraction. You can’t do that to me.”
“I’m not. I just want to be . . . I just like . . .” He, who always found the words, couldn’t seem to articulate how he felt. Rhett didn’t want to use Summer. He liked her too much to hurt her, but something compelled him to be near her. “I’m not asking you for anything.”
Summer pulled her hand away, her face somber. “You’re a man I can’t play with, Rhett. You know that. I can’t be left behind, gutted and gasping.”
“Summer—”
“Stop.” She held up a hand, her hazel eyes unyielding. “You know the power you have over me, the power you’ve always had. Don’t use that against me. I’ll be your friend, but I can’t be a casualty. To you, I’m just another woman. One of hundreds. But to me, you’re . . . you know.”
With those words, she turned and walked away, passing people who’d been staring at them. She smiled at a few, but fixed her eyes on the stage and the band waiting for her. He curled his hand against the emptiness.
He was a person like everyone else. Sure, he was nationally recognized and had star power, or whatever his agent liked to tout when he worked to get him jobs. And sure, he was screwed up from the accident that past summer. Anyone would be. But that didn’t mean he would hurt Summer.
But if you tell her pretty things, take her to bed, and let her fall back in love with you and then leave, wouldn’t that hurt? Wouldn’t that be the very definition of using someone?
He flicked the mosquito of truth away even though the pesky rascal made a damned good bit of sense.
“Here ya go,” Jenn said, setting the whiskey in front of him. “I made it a double. On the house.”
“No. I’m paying. Let’s settle the tab now.” He reached for his wallet and withdrew a card. “In fact, let me buy the house a round. Least I could do.”
Jenn took the card. “You just made a whole lot of new fans. I mean, we’re all fans, you being a hometown boy and all, but this will put you over Cleveland Rennix.”
“The guy who did the backstroke in the Olympics in the 1930s? Are you telling me I’m behind Cleveland?”
“Hey, he won silver,” Jenn said with a laugh before sashaying away. “Always good to have a Carolina boy home.”
Her words slammed into him. Carolina boy? He swung his gaze to the stage, where Summer stood adjusting the mic and thought about the song she’d sung before the break. Was it about him? Bittersweet and full of regrets, the song unspooled the notion of a woman in love with a golden boy she couldn’t have.
But what if she could have him? If only for a little while.
That thought warmed him more than the whiskey sitting at his elbow.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
November, present day
Summer knew she should have made an excuse for not going with Rhett. All day long she’d played around with really good ones. “I have a migraine” had come in second to “I got my period and have cramps.” Since she had neither of those two things, and because she really wanted to be with Rhett, she didn’t call and beg off. Instead, she’d put on extra mascara and shaved her legs.
Yeah. She was just that stupid over Rhett.
After the last guitar lesson of the day, she’d driven home and taken a quick shower, careful to not get her hair wet. Riffling through her makeup drawer, she unearthed a sample of perfume from some fancy shop in Savannah and dabbed it between her breasts while muttering to herself that she’d lost her damned mind.
She was certain Rhett had asked her to go with him because he needed someone to be with him. It wasn’t a date. But then the way he’d looked at her, held her hand, allowed hopefulness to creep into her heart. So she used the buttery lip gloss Maisie had given her on her birthday. And before she left the bathroom, she glanced at herself in the mirror. The woman staring back at her looked like she thought this was a date.
“Dumb ass,” she muttered to her reflection before grabbing a tissue and swiping off the lip gloss. Then she picked the container up and painted it on again. Because a girl always needed pretty lips, date or not.
“Why are you wearing makeup? I thought y’all were going out on the boat,” David said from the couch. His packed backpack sat at his feet, his phone was in hand. As always. “You know, Rhett’s famous and dates really hot girls.”
Implication: You’re not in his league. In fact, you’re not even playing the same sport.
Summer stopped and looked at her son, who was waiting for Hunt to pick him up for the night. “I know that, but I wasn’t going to go out looking like a hag.”
“All I’m saying is, don’t be weird, Mom.” David returned his gaze to the phone. He pecked at it and then looked back up at her.
“I don’t need your advice, David. You’re fourteen and don’t know a fraction of what you need to know when it comes to women.”
“I know you fixed your hair to go on a boat.”
“I braided my hair so it wouldn’t get knotted and took a shower so I didn’t compete with the shrimp Pete leaves on board. I know who Rhett is and I know who I am. Thanks for the reminder, though.” She sounded miffed. She shouldn’t. Her son was absolutely correct. She didn’t have any business lusting after Rhett.
“I wasn’t being insulting, Mama. Just so you know.”
She absolutely knew. She’d always known. Rhett Bryan was out of her league . . . even more so now that he was a celebrity. “When’s your father picking you up? And are you wearing cologne?” She sniffed the air, catching a hint of something that smelled like Axe body spray.
“He’s on his way, and, I know you’re going to freak, but there’s this party. No, not party. Get-together. Some of the baseball guys invited me.”
“Party? No. You’re too young for a party.”
“Mom, I’m nearly fifteen, and everyone’s going. Especially a lot of the guys from the baseball team. I’m trying to get to know them and stuff. There’ll be parents around. I think it’s a bonfire. Dad knows the people and said it’s okay with him if it’s okay with you.”
“I don’t know about this, Dave. You’re springing this on me as I’m walking out the door. I know what happens at parties.”
“What? You get pregnant?”
He might as well have slapped her. “Are you really going to do this right now?”
David’s face hardened. “What? It’s hard to make friends here, Mom. Especially when your parents aren’t married and barely talk to each other. It’s the first party I’ve been invited to, and I like these guys. I just want to go by for a while. Dad said he’d take me and pick me up. And Lyle Alexander will be there. He goes to church with me.”
Summer still smarted from his flippant comment. Yeah, David knew he’d been the result of prom night, but he didn’t know that Summer and Hunt had barely known each other. Summer hadn’t felt the need to include details, only tell him that she had no regrets. Little white lies never hurt, and sh
e loved that kid like there was no tomorrow. Clichéd as the phrase was. “Will there be alcohol?”
“The parents aren’t passing it out or anything, if that’s what you mean.” He waggled his shoulders and looked at her like he could do nothing about other kids sneaking in booze. Which he couldn’t. “I won’t drink. I don’t even like that stuff.”
“You’re not making me feel better about this, and I have to go.”
“Please, Mom. I want to make friends with these guys. They’re cool, and if I make the team, we’ll be playing together.”
Indecision flip-flopped inside her. “Okay. Fine. Check in when you get there and when you leave. I’ll text your father to make sure he’s talked to the parents. Next time let’s discuss this beforehand. No more ninja attacks.” She jabbed her pointed finger at him. “Behave.”
“I will,” David, said breaking into a rare grin. “I’ll be a Boy Scout.”
“Yeah, you will,” Summer said, pushing out the door into the coolness of the night. She had a lump of apprehension in her gut. David wasn’t really ready for parties, was he? Or perhaps she wasn’t ready for parties and all they implied. She still remembered prom night, the vodka shots, and . . . what happened with Hunt.
She paused midstep, prepared to spin around and tell David he couldn’t go, but just as she made to turn, headlights swung past her. Hunt drove up the gravel path in his big truck. She stood still, waiting for him to pull up.
“Evening, Summer, David ready?” Hunt said as the window rolled down.
“I’m ready,” David called out from behind her. He passed her, throwing an arm around her shoulders. “Bye, Mom.”
He pocketed his phone, slung his backpack over his shoulder, and hurried to the idling truck. “Hey, Dad. Mom said I can go to the Easterlys for the bonfire.”
“You okay with it?” Hunt asked, leaning forward, sounding surprised.
“Are you?”
“I think he’ll be okay. I know the Easterlys pretty well. Good people.”
“I’m hesitant to let him go because I’ve not really talked to him about parties. What happens at parties.” She tried not to laden her words, but it came out that way.
A flash of irritation zipped across Hunt’s face. He hated being reminded of that night fifteen years before. Summer understood. She didn’t like remembering it much herself. “I’ll talk to him about drinking and girls. I’m prepared to do that.”
“Okay,” she said, almost smiling as a horrified look appeared on her son’s face. “I think he needs a curfew. Ten thirty?”
“Eleven,” David was quick to counter.
“Ten forty-five it is,” Hunt said with a smile before shifting the truck in gear. “Don’t worry, Summer. He’s growing up, but you raised him right.”
Summer waved as they bumped off down the driveway, hoping Hunt’s words were the truth.
She walked around Pete’s house and headed down toward the boathouse. The large boat bobbed gently in the inlet, but Rhett wasn’t in sight. Her footfall on the wooden deck sounded somehow profound, like she’d made up her mind about something. Thing was, she didn’t know what. No clue where she and Rhett were heading . . . if anywhere.
“Ahoy, mate,” Rhett said, emerging from the boathouse.
“Ahoy,” she said, giving him a smile.
The man looked like every woman’s dream in a pair of khaki jeans that hung so perfectly on his frame it somehow seemed indecent. A Henley clung to his torso, and he’d pulled a University of South Carolina ball cap over his burnished locks. The running shoes should have looked dorky, but they didn’t. He looked like he’d stepped out of a catalog for the outdoorsman.
Conversely, Summer looked like she’d stepped out of a gypsy encampment. She wore wide-legged pants with an embroidered hem, artisan clogs, and a tight, light-blue T-shirt beneath her old windproof navy jacket. Big hoop earrings brushed her shoulders, and she prayed the wind on the boat ride wouldn’t pull them loose.
“You look fantastic,” Rhett said, eyeing her appreciatively.
A warm glow flickered in her belly. “Thank you. Oh darn, I meant to bring some water or something to drink.”
“Beat you to it. I’ve got wine and the makings for a pretty spectacular cheese board. I went to Publix.” He untied the rope from the boat and extended his hand to her.
She took it, expecting a tingle just from taking his hand. No disappointment there. She felt his touch down into her very soul.
Oh please, sister. Get a grip. Wine and cheese doesn’t equate to anything other than possible gas.
But her hopeful, romantic voice trampled the voice of reality.
Wine? Cheese? Moonlight? Ding. Ding. Ding. You’re on a date, sister.
“Oh, and how was that? Traffic jam? Old ladies faint in the aisles?” she joked, stepping into the boat and making her way toward the seat behind the windshield.
“Old ladies? Hell, no. I had the young ones dropping like flies,” he joked, knotting the rope and securing it on the bow. He walked to the back and did something or another and then appeared beside her, sinking into the driver’s seat.
“Like flies, huh?” she joked.
“Doesn’t sound so good when you think about the comparison.” He handed her a life vest and secured the windshield. “Hopefully, it won’t get too cold. I know it’s silly, but I love to ride at night when the moon is full. The world falls away and there’s nothing but darkness and light.”
“Wow, you’re a poet,” she said.
“Nah. I’m just trying to impress the songwriter.” He cranked the engine and motored away from the boathouse and dock, heading out toward the river that would take them to the bay. The glowing orb in the sky created a pathway on the water, seducing them out into the openness, daring them to follow the light.
As soon as Rhett hit the river, he opened the engine up. They skittered across the water, wind tearing at them, the boat rollicking toward open ocean. The feeling of careening into nothingness was exhilarating, and Summer found herself laughing for no reason other than she was alive and could feel that down to her painted toenails.
Glancing over at Rhett, she could see the tension melt away. His gorgeous mouth tipped up in pleasure, and at that moment he looked exactly like the boy she remembered, the one who had no cares, who had everything stretched before him in a bountiful smorgasbord of life.
Summer settled back and enjoyed the ride across the bay, waving despite the darkness when they saw other boats coming in for the night. She wondered if they wondered why two fools were heading out while they headed in. Maybe they thought them reckless. Maybe they were right.
Eventually, they hit open water, but Rhett kept the boat parallel with the shoreline. Large houses glittered against the blackness, and the moon cast a beautiful glow on the inky waters that were capped with lacy foam as the waves rolled over. After several minutes, Rhett veered the boat toward a small, uninhabited island.
“We can ‘park’ here and open the wine,” he said above the whine of the engine. He motored closer to shore, where the waves were lazy, shut the engine off, and dropped the anchor.
A profound quietness encapsulated them, punctuated by the swoosh of the small waves against the beach.
Rhett rose and unlatched the windshield, moving to the front of the boat. He withdrew a basket from the cargo hold and spread an old quilt over the fishing deck. “Come on. Let’s open this wine and enjoy the view.”
Summer unlatched her life jacket and slipped it from her shoulders. The wind was cool but soft, stirring only the tendrils that had escaped her braid. She rubbed her still-glossed lips together and noted that Rhett uncorking a bottle of wine with the moonlight threading his golden hair did look, indeed, like a date. Maybe this was what he’d intended all along.
Her heart leaped against her sternum.
Moving to the front, Summer accepted a stemmed glass of wine from Rhett. “This looks nice. Thank you.”
“Oh, here,” he said, lifting the top of ano
ther storage unit and bringing out a velveteen throw. “Picked this up, too. Didn’t know how cool it would be.”
Summer took the plush throw and wrapped it loosely around her shoulders as she sank onto the blanket and crossed her legs. The moon loomed over them, somehow bigger than normal.
Rhett filled his own glass and then lifted it. “To old friends and a Carolina moon.”
“Hear, hear,” Summer said, clinking hers against his and taking a sip of the crisp white wine. “My gram used to call it a whiskey moon because it was when her folks used to run the moonshine.”
Rhett smiled and Summer felt her heart trip. God, he looked so good with the wind tousling his hair, his face so smooth and unworried in the softness of the night. His teeth flashed perfectly white, and every inch of his body begged to be touched. She so wanted to touch him. Just feel his warmth beneath her fingertips. “I like that, but I’ve always called it a Carolina moon, even out in LA. The moon never seemed as big as it did here. Made me feel so small, but so connected at the same time.”
“Yeah, I see what you mean,” she said, studying the orb.
“Am I the Carolina boy?”
Summer flashed hot and felt the heat in her cheeks. “What?”
“In your song. I remember you calling me that once in high school.”
“Maybe, but it’s an homage to every guy from here. Just a song.”
“Funny, it didn’t feel that way,” he said, taking a sip of wine and staring out at the reflection of that moon on the water.
It wasn’t like Summer could admit Rhett often floated into her subconscious when she wrote about love, longing, or loss. There were times she’d not thought about Rhett. That was true. She’d been in a few relationships where she’d found love or what she’d thought was love. What she’d felt for Rhett had been an idealized crush, a fantasy conjured by a lonely, plump girl who’d somehow captured the attention of the “it” boy. So, sure, sometimes she summoned that yearning in her songs, but she wasn’t in love with Rhett. She hardly knew him.
