CHAPTER NINETEEN
November, present day
For months Rhett had been consumed with his own issues—the nightmares, the lawsuit, the fallout from his tirade, but nothing now dominated his thoughts like the sound of Summer’s voice relaying the tale of her rape.
When she’d finished telling him about that night, he had to swallow the vomit in his throat. His crossed legs felt like noodles, and he felt like someone had assaulted him. He’d been there that night. He’d opened the door and knew something was off.
But he’d done nothing more than pull the door closed.
Sitting there in the moonlight, he didn’t know whether to hold her or apologize. He’d just reached for her when the theme from The Twilight Zone emerged from under the boat console.
“That’s Hunt,” she said, wiping the tears from her face and unwinding herself from the depths of the blanket. “I need to get it. David’s at a party.”
He’d wanted to toss the damned phone in the water. He wanted to punch someone. Cry. Jump in the water and swim until he just gave out. Instead he sat like a stone as Summer pulled her purse from the storage bin.
“Hey,” she said to the man who’d raped her. “Wait. Slow down.”
Rhett uncurled from his position and moved toward Summer.
“You’re where? Beaufort County Hospital? He’s what? Oh my God.”
“What’s wrong?” Rhett mouthed, growing alarmed.
“I’ll be right there. It will take half an hour, maybe forty-five minutes, but I’ll be there. Call me if anything else happens.” She pressed the END button and closed her eyes.
“What is it?”
“David drank too much at the party and they had to take him to the ER. He’s unconscious.”
“Jesus,” Rhett said, grabbing the glasses and tossing out the remainder of the wine. He shoved everything into the basket and stowed the quilt. Taking the velveteen throw, he wrapped a pale Summer in it like a burrito and handed her a life jacket. “I’ll go as fast as I can.”
They’d made it back to the boathouse in twenty minutes and into town in eighteen. Summer had spent most of the drive with her eyes closed and her lips moving in prayer. Rhett had occasionally squeezed her arm and murmured that it would be okay . . . even though he didn’t know if that were true.
“Thank you, Rhett,” Doreen, the night nurse, said, jarring him from where he contemplated the numbers on the elevator. “My sister will love having your autograph. She loves your show, and what you said to that horrible Bev woman was something everyone in this country has been thinking.”
Rhett smiled. What else could he do? He was a tangle of emotions, trying to keep his cool for Summer’s sake and trying not to run after Hunt McCroy and beat the ever-loving shit out of him. Yet, Rhett got paid to play a part. He knew how to paste on a winning smile and make people comfortable in high-stress situations. Rhett Bryan: Total Pro. “You’re welcome, Doreen. Tell your sister I appreciate the support.”
“You betcha,” Doreen said, glowing like the fluorescent lights above the nurse’s station outside the step-down unit where David now lay, Summer at his side worrying herself into an early grave despite the fact that David was awake and fairly lucid. The doctor had removed the breathing tube and now he was getting fluids and being watched for any collateral damage. “Guess I should check on my friends.”
“Right. If there’s anything you or Mrs. Valentine need, just press the button.”
He walked back into the room, pulling the Sprite from his jacket pocket. “I found one. Had to go to the maternity floor to find it, but I was victorious.”
“Thank you, Rhett,” Summer said, rising and grabbing a cup from the rolling bedside table. She poured some soda into the cup, adding a bendy straw. “Here you go, David. This will help your throat feel better.”
David glanced at his mother, eyes still glassy and unfocused. He obediently opened his mouth and sucked when she placed the straw in. “Thank you.”
His voice was raspy from the insertion of the trach tube and a bit slurred. It would take several more hours before the effects of the alcohol had worn off.
Summer set the cup on the tray and sank into the only chair in the room. “Jesus.”
Rhett walked over and rubbed her shoulder. “A scare, but David will be fine.”
“I know,” she sighed, rubbing her face with both hands. She sounded so tired, and it struck him how hard it was to raise a child. To feel that nagging worry at all stages of their lives. Maybe even more so when they became teenagers. A four-year-old can be managed, a fourteen-year-old not as much. “Tonight was just . . . a lot, you know? I feel wrung out and hung to dry.”
David watched them, his brows drawing together. “What’s wrong, Mama?”
Summer sucked in a deep breath. “Nothing, baby. We’ll talk later.”
“I’m so sorry, Mommy,” he said, his voice wobbly. “I just wanted to be cool like everyone else. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” Then he started crying. It was the same thing he’d done in the ER once they’d managed to remove the tube. Distraught, guilty, and reverting to a nine-year-old with a tummy ache, David wanted assurance and comfort.
Summer grasped his shoulder. “No more crying. Close your eyes and sleep. We’ll talk about this tomorrow.”
“I don’t want you to be mad. Where’s Dad? Is he mad, too?”
“He had to go home. Now close your eyes,” Summer commanded.
David did as bid and Summer jerked her head toward the door. Rhett understood and slipped from the room, slightly down the hall, Summer following.
“You go on home,” she said, in a soft voice. “I’m staying with him tonight. The doctor seemed to think he’ll be good to go in the morning. I’ll text Hunt to pick us up. He needs to help me deal with this situation. He doesn’t get the luxury of running and hiding. Not any longer.”
“I can stay.” Rhett felt compounded irritation at Hunt. He’d slipped out without a word. Bastard.
“There’s no need. David will sleep the night. I’ll bunk in the recliner.”
“That’s not very comfortable.”
“I’ve slept in worse. I’ll be fine.” She lifted her gaze to his. “I’m sorry about tonight. It all started so well and then ended so badly. Thank you for listening to me. I wasn’t prepared for you to confront Hunt. I want you to let that go. What happened is best left in the past.”
“Why?” he asked, the anger awakening again. “Why do you let him off so easily?”
He’d known Hunt could be a spoiled shit sometimes, but he’d never imagined his friend would force himself on Summer. Sorrow for Summer pressed low in his gut. He couldn’t imagine the helplessness or worthlessness she’d felt at the hands of the guy Rhett had set her up with. So much now made sense . . . and so much did not.
“Because I have David to think about. David doesn’t know how he was conceived. And to a degree, neither does Hunt. He’s never apologized because he truly believes he did nothing wrong. His ego and the agency he’s always had in his life distort his version of what happened.”
“How does he not know?” Rhett asked, pushing a hand through his hair.
“Because a lot of guys are products of a culture that sends mixed signals about what girls really want. Kids don’t listen in sex ed, and parents assume their kids know better. You think Mitchell talked to Hunt about how to treat women?”
Rhett made a face.
“Exactly.”
“But you could have told someone. Made him pay.”
Summer gave a wry laugh. “You’re not saying something I haven’t heard all my life. It’s easy to say prosecute, but if a victim is brave enough to bring charges, she has to shoulder the burden of proof. She has to defend what she wore, drank, and allowed to happen in the back seat. It’s easy to say ‘fight it,’ but it’s a different reality to live through a rape conviction. Most choose to avoid the struggle.”
“Better to try.”
Her smile told him all he needed to know—she’d been through this one too many times. “I felt the same way, and I told my parents. But remember what I just told you. I would have to defend what I wore, what I drank, how I acted. Everyone at the party saw me and Hunt in the kitchen doing shots and making out. I went upstairs with him. Even you, if you’d been asked, would have said you checked on me and I said I wanted to stay in the bedroom with Hunt. No prosecutor would take that case and go to trial against a ‘good’ kid with a scholly to Florida.”
Rhett knew her words were true. “Okay, yeah, but Hunt knows the truth.”
“Rhett, Hunt doesn’t see fault in himself. In his mind, I cried foul when I got caught. Hunt was the hot, rich baseball player who could get any girl, and I was the desperate nerd trying hard to fit in. He would have ended up looking like the victim. I would have been the woman who wanted to ruin his future or worse, a desperate gold digger. Hunt’s father told my dad that exact thing—they would hire an attorney who would turn me into the biggest slut in Beaufort County.”
“You can still do something about it. You could—”
“Press charges? Dredge it up? To what result? So I can embarrass my son, tear down the fragile bridge I’ve built with Hunt, drag my name all over town . . . again? I don’t want that.”
Rhett shook his head. “I know, but he doesn’t have to pay for—”
“Publicly accusing Hunt would hurt David. I’m not willing to do that. David’s innocent. I can sacrifice the justice so he doesn’t get hurt.”
“You sacrificed everything. College, a music career, seeing Hunt pay for what he did. Why do you do that?”
“Because I’m a mom. I don’t erase me, but I don’t shortchange David.” Summer hesitated as if she wanted to be careful with her words. “I haven’t forgiven Hunt for what he did, but I understand who he is. As you pointed out, Hunt’s good at making excuses for his mistakes. He doesn’t accept blame for much.”
Rhett wanted to argue with her, to make her nail Hunt to the wall on this issue, but he recognized the truth in her words. Hunt wouldn’t accept blame, and the only people hurt by bringing up the past would be Summer and David. Still, the injustice seared him.
Rhett vaguely remembered a phone call from Hunt later that fall. His friend had implied Summer had tried to trap him. He’d even blamed Rhett for forcing him to take her to the prom. He recalled his grandfather talking about the girl the McCroy boy knocked up . . . how they’d paid her family off. It was the topic of conversation in Moonlight until someone drove their truck into the bay and was saved by an eleven-year-old who dove in and rescued them.
“I remember Hunt calling me in college to tell me you’d gotten pregnant the night of the prom. He was so angry. You’re right. He never said anything about it being his fault.”
Summer shook her head. “Some people can’t admit their mistakes. I had to live with mine. I couldn’t raise a baby in Columbia by myself, so I gave up my scholarship, moved home, and took classes at a community college. Everyone wanted me to give the baby up for adoption, but I didn’t. Hunt partied his way through college, got strung out on prescription drugs, and learned to blame everyone else—the coaches, the surgeons, his parents—for every bad thing that happened to him. In some way, he got what he deserved.”
“That’s a small comfort,” he said, eyeing the nurse’s station. They didn’t need any more gossip for the local coffee shop. “So why let him see David?”
“Because David deserves a father.”
The unfairness of it all slammed into him. Hunt had purposefully hurt Summer, and she let it slide. Rhett hadn’t intentionally tried to harm anyone . . . and yet a girl died . . . and her family was suing him. “A father like Hunt?”
“Even one as flawed as Hunt.” Summer stepped back and sagged against the wall. “Look, I know what you’re thinking. You’re not the first. People in my therapy group, women who I called friends, essentially cut me from their lives because they felt so strongly about me not letting a rapist into my son’s life. I understand how they feel, but I’m not going to let David suffer because I can’t deal.”
“But he violated you.” The bitterness filled his mouth.
Summer flinched. “I’m not defending Hunt. I’m merely accepting that none of what happened was David’s fault. I fought against it, but the more I tried to avoid talking about Hunt, the more David wanted to know. He cried because he didn’t have a father to teach him to throw a football. He wore the pages of my yearbook out looking at his dad. A year and a half ago he sneaked onto a bus for Moonlight and ran away from Nashville. Didn’t take a rocket scientist to teach me that the more I pulled him from his father, the more he wanted to be with him. I knew if I held on to my hate, I would lose. The only other alternative was to tell David he’s a result of rape. I couldn’t taint him with that. That shit sticks on you.”
Rhett knew that was right. He didn’t remember his parents, but there’d been an emptiness. And kids were mean. They’d called him “orphan” in grade school.
“So I suck it up and feel grateful that Hunt’s trying to be a good father to David. That’s what I hold on to—that Hunt is not a horrible person. Just one who made a horrible mistake.”
“That he won’t acknowledge.”
“Have you acknowledged all your mistakes, Rhett?” Summer asked, her eyes almost steely in the dim hallway.
Her words slammed into him. Hard. The mistakes he’d made could fill a dump truck, but there was one that crushed them all. Had he even considered owning up to that mistake?
But it hadn’t been his fault. The child had chased a ball unthinkingly into traffic. Still, Rhett knew he’d not had his full attention on the road. There had been worries, stressors, and the wrong smoothie flavor. Everything about that morning had been a mistake, but he’d never owned up to his role in it. “I get that everyone makes mistakes, but some can’t be erased.”
“I’m not trying to erase what Hunt did to me, Rhett. I’m trying to—I don’t know—make a silk purse from a sow’s ear. I can’t change what happened, but I can change the way I view it. I’ve had years of therapy. A lot of survivors would have done this differently, but this is what I chose for me. For David. You can be angry as hell at Hunt, but that changes nothing. Only Hunt has the power to change things. Until his eyes are opened—if they ever are—I can only live my truth. May sound like bullshit, but it’s all I got.”
Rhett focused on the bad neoclassical art hanging in the hallway. Part of him wanted to shake some sense into her, ignite her into doing something. But what that was, he wasn’t sure. Yet part of him recognized the truth in her words. It took a strong person to put aside hate and try for love. “You love David more than you hate Hunt.”
“Hate’s a strong word. It’s corrosive and eats at you. I spent many years hating Hunt. I despised him for the glory he got while I rocked a squalling baby and struggled to stay awake in my classes. But now, I pity him.”
“Because he didn’t make it in baseball?”
She shook her head. “Because he’s so incredibly unsatisfied with his life. And I’m not.”
Rhett folded her into his arms. “You’re pretty amazing.”
She shook her head. “Nope, I’m just doing the best with the lot life has given me. Things are still tense between Hunt and me. Sometimes I like that there’s still anger there. I’m no saint.”
Rhett inhaled, taking in the salty sea and wildflowers tangled in her hair. He wanted to take all the bad away, hide her and give her good things, but he knew her journey had made her stronger. He also knew he wanted her . . . in his bed . . . in his life. But his desires were selfish.
Rhett Bryan should get the hell out of this place soaked in memories, steeped with longing for a woman who didn’t belong in his life. His reality wasn’t vulnerable single mothers and tangled relationships. The life he led was so far away from the Carolina moon creeping in through the hallway window that it might as well be a distant planet. Here he was the boy he’d forgotten about; there he was a man who held a place among giants.
Thing was, he didn’t want to go back to being the man he was.
He wanted to stay in Moonlight, where things seemed somehow easier . . . even if they weren’t.
Dropping his hands to Summer’s shoulders, he said, “You sure you’ll be okay?”
A smile twitched at her lips. “Of course. I’m pretty much accustomed to being alone. Plus, I have that comfy chair waiting on me.”
Rhett gave her another quick hug. He wanted to kiss her but wouldn’t. “I’ll call you tomorrow to check on the kid.”
“Bye,” she said, giving him a little wave as he started down the dim hallway to the parking garage where he was illegally parked in a physician’s parking spot.
His last glimpse of her narrowed in the closing elevator doors.
A heavy sigh was his only company as he pressed the button to the lower level and exited the building. The same big moon greeted him as he backed the car out of the garage and pointed the headlights toward the place where he’d learned to ride his bike, tie a sailor’s knot, and catch crabs with chicken legs. The Carolina moon dogged his car, summoning the memory of Summer’s face aglow as they bobbed offshore Dog Island, dragging the horror of her story into the light, and eliciting hunger for another taste of this woman who encapsulated him in . . . something.
While Rhett existed beneath a shadow, one he couldn’t seem to shake, Summer shone like a lone candle penetrating darkness. Like a desperate moth, he was seduced by the flicker, but a single spark could ignite a dumpster fire.
He couldn’t use Summer to feel better about himself.
“Fuck,” he said to the darkness surrounding his car. Then he angled a glance up at the moon. “And fuck you, too.”
But the moon didn’t answer back. It hung steadfast in the sky, watching a world beneath swirl about in conflict.