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Rhett does as promised, washing my body first and then my hair as I replay everything that happened with my dad. I finish the story about the same time he finishes rinsing the conditioner from my hair. With his hands on my shoulders, he turns me to face him.
“It sounds like this could be a good thing.”
“I know. But my feelings are so jumbled, I don’t know how I feel about it. I want him to be happy, and it would be nice to be able to do a few things I want to do, but who will I come home to? Who will eat cinnamon rolls with me on Saturday mornings and listen to my sad animal stories?”
“Me.”
My knees go a little wobbly. Did he just say that? “But your job…you said you’re traveling all the time.”
He puts his face right in front of mine. “I do travel all the time, but I’m home a few days during the week, and we have summers off,” he says, kissing me.
“But you train in Houston.”
“Are you trying to find a reason to keep me away, Mo?” he whispers.
“No. That’s not it at all. I’m trying to figure out how we fit into each other’s lives.”
Taking my hand in his, Rhett brushes wet hair from my face. “I can train anywhere. My life isn’t in Houston.”
“But your home is.”
“Home is a figurative word. My home isn’t where I lay my head at night.”
Oh my. We’re doing this. We’re really doing this. “It’s not?”
“Relax, Mo. Take a deep breath,” he instructs, running his hands up my arms. I follow his command, allowing the oxygen to seep into my body and carry the doubt away. “Home is where I find peace when I’m stressed, happiness when I’m sad, balance when life gets crazy—and trust me, it gets a little crazy.”
“And where do you find peace and happiness and balance?”
Please say in Heaven. Please say in Heaven.
“It’s not where, Mo; it’s who.”
My heart fills with warmth as his words soak in. We’re in our own little world, the hot water beating against our bodies as his eyes hold mine. I wait for the words, wait for him to tell me I’m his home, but I can see the hesitation in his eyes.
He still doesn’t trust me with his heart. He wants to trust me, but I have to show him. He has to see that I’m here to stay and I’ll never hurt him the way I did before.
“You’re my who, Rhett Allen.” Cupping his jaw in my hands, I kiss him gently. “I’ve got to get ready for work, but this conversation isn’t over. Not by a long shot.”
I yank open the curtain and have one foot out of the shower when I’m hauled back against a large, warm, wet chest. His lips mold to mine in a bone-melting kiss. I allow myself a moment to drown in his arms.
“I’m getting there,” he whispers.
“Take your time. I’m not going anywhere.”
It takes all of my self-control to step out of the shower and leave him behind, but I have a job to get to and bills to pay. I’m pulling up my pants when Rhett’s phone rings from a pile of clothes on the bathroom floor.
“Can you grab that, babe?”
I shuffle through his clothes, but by the time I pull his phone out of the back pocket of his jeans, the call has ended.
Missed Call: Nikki Cell appears on the screen.
I glance at the shower and back at the phone. Why is she calling? I thought he fired her. A second later his phone beeps with an incoming text from Nikki.
I know we left things on shaky ground, but I’m glad we got to talk the other night, and I can’t wait to see you. Next Wednesday is perfect. I miss you.
Stuffing his phone back in his pocket, I sink onto the toilet seat, feeling like someone reached into my body and pulled my guts out. I swear I don’t breathe for an entire minute as I run through all the things that text could mean.
