Page 146 of The Long Way Home
“Rachel, soon-to-be Hayes, one of the most badass women I know,” Connor says, handing me a beer.
“So happy for you, Rach,” Slone adds.
“Congrats, Rach,” Lexi chimes in, loud and cheerful.
“Congrats to both of you,” I say, turning toward Slone and Lexi. “I’m sorry I’ve been so busy, I haven’t asked—how was the move? You all settled in?”
Lexi takes a deliberate sip of her drink, then smirks. “Yes. And finally, after three long weeks since we got the keys, I’ve managed to get Slone to unpack her… stuff.”
Slone shoots her a look, sharp but amused, before shifting her attention back to me. “You have no idea how controlling that woman is. I’m practically locked in that apartment. Every mug must be in its perfect place, every sweater folded or hung just right. Human contact is a luxury I can’t afford.”
I wiggle my eyebrows at Lexi. “Seems like you might need something to relax.”
“Oh, please,” she groans, mock horror on her face. “Don’t start with that again.”
Lexi’s phone buzzes. She fumbles with it, pulls it to her ear, and straightens. “Hello? Marcus… really? I thought we made enough headway that we could pick it up tomorrow.” She shakes her head, impatient, grabbing her coat. “Okay, fine. I’ll head back that way. See you in fifteen.”
She tucks the phone into her coat pocket, pressing a quick kiss to my cheek. “Sorry, babe. Gotta run back to the office. But seriously, so proud of you, Rach.”
“Thanks, Lex,” I say, smiling, feeling the warmth of her pride linger even as she rushes off.
I turn to Rhett as I hear Connor whisper to Slone, “Desperate for human contact, huh? I may have a proposition for you…”
“Thanks for putting this all together for me, Rhett.” I lean into him, feeling the familiar weight of his arm wrap around me.
“You deserve it, Sunny,” he says. “Officially Director of PT in the Neuro Outpatient department. I am so proud of you. So damn proud.”
I squeeze his hand, letting the words sink in.
Margo grins, leaning in from across the table. “I still can’t believe you two are engaged.”
“I can,” Anderson adds, smirking. “We all knew you guys would end up together eventually. I mean practically had to force Margo and Slone to stay out of it.”
“Not enough, apparently,” I chuckle, shaking my head. “Margo had so many things to say.”
Margo throws her hands up, laughing. “I couldn’t help myself! I just wanted you to get what you wanted, Rach. You deserve to get everything you want.”
I glance at Rhett, his arm still draped across my shoulders. “Yeah,” I murmur, the truth of the moment pressing hard against my ribs. “I have everything I could ever want.”
With Rhett, I have never had to be anyone but me. He doesn’t just tolerate the parts of me that are too loud—he matches my volume, leans in alongside me. He doesn’t flinch when I take up space; he makes room for both of us. When I’m quiet, he doesn’t assume I’m boring—he notices the thoughts I hide, the questions I don’t ask, and he asks anyway. When I fall apart, when I’m sharp-edged, messy, or the version of myself I was taught was unlovable, he stays in awe of me.
With Rhett, I am not too much. I am not too little. I am not a shadow in someone else’s story. I am whole. I am seen. I am enough. I am the sun.
Sometimes I wonder what my brother would say if he could see us now. Rhett was the one he trusted most, the one he called first when life spun out of control. Their bond didn’t need explaining.
But I wonder if he noticed the way Rhett’s eyes followed me when I wasn’t looking, the subtle shift of his presence when I walked into a room.
Looking back now, I think Josh saw it. I think, more than that, he wanted this—for me, for us. I think he always knew that Rhett would be my home.
Not just because Rhett is steady and dependable and means every word he says. But because of him, I’ve discovered that my “too much” and my “not enough” weren’t flaws at all. They were warnings, signs I was orbiting the wrong people, the wrong spaces. With the right one, you don’t have to shrink. You don’t have to perform or put on masks. You justare.
And you are loved for it.
Maybe that’s whathomereally is. Not a place or four walls or a roof. But the people who stay. The ones who see all of you and love you more because of it.
It took me a long time to understand that. A long road, littered with detours that reshaped me in ways I never imagined. I thought I was lost and alone more times than I could count.
After my brother died, I believed I was meant to walk this path alone. That the constant in my life—the one who had always been there from the beginning—was gone, and with him, so was my guide.
