Page 44 of When Forever Comes

After several moments of tension-filled silence, he asked, “Do you ever fear you’ll never be enough? That your sister will always be more than you are?”

I swallowed the last bite of my food. “Every day.”

Anytime I’ve shared that tidbit about myself with anyone else — feeling inadequate — people have brushed me off and told me I was being ridiculous. That no one has ever compared me to Olivia and that they hold both of us Swann girls to a higher standard because of our fire chief father. That much is true. But I’ve never been as smart as Olivia, or as calm as Olivia.

“Your older sister was my favorite student. She always turned assignments in on time. She never gave me an issue in class. Why can’t you be more like her?”

They’re phrases I heard countless times through school.

Why can’t I be more like Olivia? Because I was — I am — a different person than her.

What was amazing about Rhett was that his story mirrored my own. He opened up first, sharing those vulnerable pieces of himself. It made me feel safe to share the same.

He understood me in a way no one else has. I thought I understood him, too.

We discussed nothing else about our pasts. That was fine, because I’m all for living in the present. Which is why I hate that I can’t get him — a man from my past — out of my head.

But the way he kissed me is permanently imprinted into every cell of my body.

When he dropped me off at the penthouse where Olivia and I were staying, he slowly leaned forward, making his intentions clear.

“I really want to kiss you, Dana.” His breath smelled of spearmint from the gum he had chewed. His lips barely brushed mine as he added, “Pull away if you don’t want this.”

I didn’t pull away, though. I leaned forward and every one of my senses came to life. One of his hands lazily made its way up my bare arm to cup the back of my neck. The other slid around my waist to my back as he deepened the kiss, curling my toes and making my heart slam like a sledgehammer. Chills and heat worked through me, cooling and heating me all at once. My nerve endings fired at lightning speed, making me dizzy, but I knew I was on solid ground. In a single kiss, Rhett became my solid ground.

He wished me a good night, and hours later, he was gone.

When Liv told me she wanted to leave that night, I sent him a text to let him know. But the response wasn’t from him; it was from his phone carrier, informing me his number was no longer in service.

Which is why I had to double check with West that Rhett actually existed after Olivia and I returned to Amber Island. West confirmed that Rhett did in fact exist but quit his job through email. Rhett sent his resignation letter from an email address that no longer accepts messages. And with that, I lost any possibility of finding him.

How could a man kiss me like that and then never speak to me again?

It’s been over a year and he has yet to reenter my life. Part of me wants to seek him out, but I don’t know where to look. I feel pathetic that it still bothers me, but I thought we had a real connection.

He got me to open up by sharing his vulnerabilities. I thought that meant something. I thoughtImeant something to him. But I didn’t. It was just a date, and I was just another woman, despite his assurances that I wasn’t a fling.

I held out hope that maybe God has the same or a similar plan for me as He did for Olivia and West. But after West told me Rhett quit without notice, I knew my hope was pointless. Rhett was a mistake. I didn’t know him long enough to suffer a broken heart from his abandonment, but he left a fracture behind. A fracture that refuses to heal.

That amazing, mind numbing, heart thumping, time jumping kiss was his goodbye kiss.

My spiraling thoughts are interrupted when I almost trip over a body on the beach. And not just a fish or whale washed up on shore, but a human body.

A HUMAN BODY!

All my limbs seize, my blood runs cold, and I’m frozen to the spot as if I’m in an iceberg and not on a beach with the sun beating down on me. The man’s back rises and falls, telling me he’s still breathing. That knowledge sends relief through me, thawing my ice-filled veins.

He’s alive, not a corpse.

“Are you okay?” I ask.

It’s a stupid question. This man clearly just washed onto shore from who knows where. Of course he’s not okay.

His head turns at the sound of my voice and I come face to face with my ghost.

No, not me in a spiritual form. And no, not a literal ghost.

Remember the part where I said Rhett ghosted me? Yeah, he’s not a ghost anymore.