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callsign-cacti · 1 year

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Someone to Love Me

Part 2

Previous part Part Three

Word Count: 4.1k

Summary:

You flinched, gaze flying back to Rhett as your mouth opened and closed, as if you wasn’t sure what to say. He had never seen you so uncertain, and for a second, Rhett wanted to take it back. Take everything he had done and said from the moment you walked into the bar tonight back. Wanted to throw himself into your arms and never let go. Wanted to find that future that he thought y’all had and wrap himself in it.

But it had been too long, too much left unsaid, and too much hurt on both sides to do any of that. So Rhett just nodded, and made one last ditch attempt to snatch the keys out of your hands so that he could leave first this time.

Warnings: Suicide Attempt, Suicidal Thoughts, Depression, Anxiety, Missing Family members, physical and mental abuse

When he was younger, Rhett used to love the feeling of slinging his leg over the chute. He had loved the exhilaration that came in the seconds before he nodded his head, when the world went quiet, and it was just him and the bull. He had lived for the feeling of hearing the crowd screaming as the announcer rattled off his score.

It had been a long time since Rhett had felt like that.

Swinging his leg over the same chute that had landed him in the hospital a year ago, Rhett tried to call up that emotion, that excitement, the frantic energy that allowed him to stay center on the back of a thousand pound animal.

But he couldn’t, hadn’t been able to in a while, and he didn’t think that he ever would again. For months now, he had been relying on muscle memory and skill, not the love, the drive that he used to carry for riding. But those things could only get him so far in a sport like this. Where every ride carried you closer to your last.

Two years ago, Rhett would have been scanning the stands for his parents, for Perry and Rebecca and Amy.

One year ago, he would have been looking for Sutton.

Two months ago, he would have been looking for Maria.

Now, he didn’t take his eyes off of the bull.

He nodded, more excited at the possibility of his ride being over then actually riding. His body moved back and forth, legs coming up to spur the bull, his hand gripping the rope for dear life. All while he ignored the twinges and shooting pain all throughout his body. Those didn’t matter.

Distantly, he heard the buzzer go off, his other hand falling down to undo the rope so he could jump off.

A year ago, he was laying in the dirt, unconscious.

He kind of wished that he still was.

He kind of wished that bull would have aimed for his head.

Rhett had placed second that night, meaning that he had made the short go and would ride again tomorrow. So the smart thing to do would have been to go back to his hotel room and get a good nights rest so he would have been ready for tomorrow.

But then he was invited to go out to the bar with some of the other riders. It’s not even that he liked anyone that was going. In fact, he didn’t like almost every single rider that was there. But it was either that, or drink by himself and wallow in his own thoughts. And anything was better than that.

So one beer turned into two which turned into three and so on. And when the buckle bunny came slinking over to him, he was far past tipsy, but aware enough that he didn’t want her hands on him.

No one had touched him for two months since Maria had left him standing in the parking lot of the Handsome Gambler.

He figured that if he just ignored the hand on his chest, then it would go away. Everyone else ignored him, and he went away, so to the drunk mind, it was sound logic. But the bunny seemed to get even more persistent the longer she was ignored.

After five minutes of staring into his bottle of beer, he felt hands on his chin, forcing his gaze to meet hers, and her hand traveled up his thigh. He jolted back, the touch unwanted, but was met with the hard back of the booth he was sitting in.

“Rhett, there you are!” And he honestly thought he was hallucinating. He hadn’t heard that voice in over a year, but that didn’t mean he didn’t recognize it. Every time he was sober enough to dream, she was in them.

His head felt heavy, the hand that was supporting it dropping away at the interruption, but somehow, he managed to turn, seeing the hazy figure of Sutton Biles standing in front of the booth.

“So sorry I’m late, feeding took a little longer than I thought, and Troubles got a big ole cut down her leg. Anyways, thanks for keeping him company, but I think I’ve got it from here!” You said, turning your attention from Rhett to the girl.

“The fuck do you mean…”

“Listen here bunny, he’s drunk and the touching you were doing didn’t exactly look consensual to me, so you can stay here and get your ass beat or go find another desperate lay for tonight, kay!”

And even drunk, Rhett could hear the promise of a beating in your voice and wasn’t at all surprised when the bunny scurried away. Hell, Rhett kind of wanted to leave too. And as your gaze turned back to him, her eyes filled with an emotion he couldn’t quite place, that kind of feeling changed into a definite feeling.

Because Rhett wasn’t sure if he was going to kiss you or start crying if you kept looking at him like that.

He went to stand, only to pitch forward onto the table, and Suttons hand shot out to steady him. He tried to shrug it off, but you were already out of the booth and wrapping your arms around his midsection, basically holding half of his weight as you guided him out of the bar.

“Why are you here?” He asked, his words slurred but understandable. Ignoring him, you pushed open the door. The cold blast of air did little to sober Rhett, but underneath him, you shivered.

“Why are you here? You aren’t riding!” He spat. You just kept moving towards his truck, ignoring his words. This only pissed him off further. He didn’t need you pitying him. He didn’t need anything from you. The only thing he needed was for you to stay away from him.

You finally spoke up as the reached Rhetts truck. “Where are you staying Rhett?”

“Just leave me alone!” He spat back, wrenching himself out of her hold and stumbling towards the drivers seat.

“The fuck I will. You drive back like that and you kill yourself or someone else. Now give me the keys Abbott!” Rhett clutched the keys tighter wincing as your hand came down to stop the door from opening and simultaneously plucking the keys out of his hand.

“Where are you staying. I’m taking you back to your hotel so you can sleep off whatever the hell you drank in there. Hell Abbott, you’ve got short go tomorrow, what the hell were you thinkin. You know how good placing, hell winning this rodeo will look. How far it could get you…”

Rhett whirled on you, no longer feeling numb. No, now you had pissed him off. Who the hell did you think you were, showing up after a year of radio silence and scolding him when it was half your fault that he was like this in the first place.

“Not really in the mood to get lectured about my bad habits right now. So I’ll take my keys…” He made a grab for them. He missed, his hands grazing your forearm instead of her hand, and you scoffed.

“So help me god Rhett, if you don’t tell me where you’re staying, then I’ll leave you in this parking lot.”

And that was it. If Rhett had been pissed before, he was angry now. You didn’t just get to swoop in when it was convenient for you to play the savior and get off empty handed

“Yeah, you gonna leave? You gonna leave like you left me in that hospital?”

“That’s what I thought.” And in your shock, Rhett was able to grab the keys out of your hand, wrenching open the truck door and jamming the keys into the slot.

Glancing through the rearview mirror as he pulled out of the parking lot, Sutton hadn’t moved an inch.

Rhett winced as he endured yet another clap on his injured shoulder, nodding as he accepted the congratulations thrown his way. He had landed hard, aggravating his old shoulder injury, but despite the rough landing, he had one of his best rides in a while, taking first place and a pretty little check.

And he was pissed about it. He had been pissed ever since he had woken up this morning to see that you had texted him, asking him to at least let you know that he had gotten home safe.

He had thrown his phone on the bed, scoffing at the audacity of the woman. And he had been pissed ever since.

Once he had gotten back to the arena the next day, the place was abuzz with talk about you. You had come in on a last minute entry and won all of the events that you had ridden in. As he ducked behind the bathrooms in order to avoid a confrontation, he wished that he would have just scratched today like he had wanted too last night when he had gotten back from the hotel room.

And as he slid onto the bull later, he found himself replaying the scene outside of the bar over and over again. How you had come in with some fake ass bullshit, pretending that you cared about him now that it suited you to.

The anger that flooded his body at the memory was hot and potent. His hand tightened on the rope, and then he was nodding and the chute was open and he was actually riding, not just trying to fall off.

When he hopped off after the timer rang out, the anger was replaced with adrenaline, surging through his body, and for a split second, he felt like Rhett Abbott, the man, not Rhett Abbott, the disgrace.

“Abbott!” One of the other riders jogged over to him, his hand falling once again on his injured shoulder.

Rhett fought the want to step away as West leaned closer. “Which bunny fucked the rider back into you huh?”

Rhett’s head jerked back; the nice feeling gone “S’cuse me?”

“That right there,” West pointed to the arena, “was the old Abbott. Haven’t seen you like that in months. So, who was it and will you do me a favor and point her in my direction next time you see her!”

Rhett pushed Wests hand off of his shoulder, pivoting as West called out, “C’mon Abbott, don’t be selfish. Share with the class why don’t you!”

What irked Rhett so much was that West was right. Kind of.

When he nodded to the gate person, he wasn’t numb, he was practically vibrating with anger begging to be released. That ride had been easy in a way that Rhett hadn’t felt in a very long time. And when he came off that bull, there was a smile on his face, because he had just known that he was gonna win with a ride like that.

With the smile still stretched across his face, he had found himself scanning the stands out of habit, his eyes catching on the seat where his family used to sit.

He had known better than to think that anyone would have showed up for him, but his stomach still dropped as he didn’t see any familiar faces. His eyes had continued to scan the crowd cheering his name, as he had walked out of the arena, waiting patiently for his scores to be announced.

And you had been there, leaning up against the gate, clapping with a small, knowing smile on your face.

Rhett had stopped, stunned to see you standing there, cheering for him.

And any of the happiness, the enjoyment at winning the round that was left was now gone, once again replaced with pain and anger.

Why wouldn’t you just leave him alone? Why couldn’t you just go away, like everyone else did.

When he had stepped out of the arena, he was immediately surrounded by buddies, hands falling on his shoulders and his name being shouted. It should have been a nice moment, basking in his win. But as he walked away from them, sparing a single look towards the spot where Sutton had stood only to find it empty, he just felt angry.

Angry because you had been there when no one else had been. Angry because he had no one. Angry because he had wanted you to come up to congratulate him, just so he could brush you off. But most importantly, he was angry because West was right.

He hadn’t fucked you, but you had gotten under his skin just the same.

He needed a fucking drink.

Later that night, when he got to the bar, you were already there, sat in the back corner booth where Rhett had parked himself last night.

When he spotted you, that half smirk half smile on your face, all he really wanted was to go back to his room. On the other hand, he didn’t want to make it seem like he was leaving just because you were there. Even though that was exactly what he would be doing. And as her eyes fell on him, he found that his decision was made as Cody guided him to the bar.

He ignored the eyes on his back as he ordered his first drink. Halfway through his second, he was still keenly aware of you sitting behind him, but was determined to ignore you.

And then he felt a tap on his shoulder, Cody's eyes mischievous as he excused himself and Sutton slid into his seat.

He ignored her, picking at the label of his beer bottle as he titled his body back towards the bar.

They sat in silence for a minute, the pile of shredded label growing underneath Rhett fingertips. It was as the bartender placed Rhett’s third beer in front of him that she spoke.

“Can I talk to you outside please?” He shook his head, bringing his drink up to take a long pull and avoiding meeting your gaze.

“Rhett, please!” He lied to himself, saying that he followed simply to get away from the eyes that he could feel watching the two of you.

You walked a few paces away from the door, wringing your hands, and it felt weird for Rhett to see you as anything less than confident.

You spoke softly, looking at him while leaning against the outside of the bar. “What did I do wrong?” Rhett wasn’t expecting that. He was ready for yelling, for accusations and insults. That’s what he had steeled himself for as he walked out the door of the bar with you, just like it was what he steeled himself for every time he walked in the door at home.

But he wasn’t ready for the quiet confusion that you spoke with, the way that you seemed to place the blame on yourself. And he didn’t like how it made him feel smaller than anything that came out of Royal’s mouth.

He stayed silent, desperately trying to collect himself as he watched you shift your weight from foot to foot, both growing more and more anxious by the second.

“You never called, never texted…” And there it was, this was what Rhett had been ready for. This is what Rhett had an answer to.

“The phone works both fucking ways Sutton. Don’t try and paint me as the villain in this story. You were the one who left in the first place!” He spat out.

“I didn’t leave Rhett, I…”

“Oh yeah, what would you call disappearing in the middle of the night when I was sleeping without a single word then huh?”

“That’s not what happened Rhett! Lennon called me and…”

He scoffed, taking another step back. “Look, I really don’t want to hear your excuses, it’s been a long day and…”

And it was his dismissal of you that made you snap, that brought the anger he was expecting towards the surface.

“It’s not excuses, it’s the truth. But you don’t wanna hear the truth do you, cause it’s easier to lie to yourself then it is to except what really happened. You got scared Rhett, cause I wasn’t someone that you could pump and dump.” You take a step towards him, then another, and another until you’re right up in his face.

“I gave you an explanation of why I left, even if you said I didn’t. I called and I texted, I have the proof on my phone. I came to one of your stupid rodeos in Wabang two months after the hospital, and all over some other girl. So it wasn’t me who left Rhett, it was you, so don’t try to blame it all on me!”

By the time you had finished, you were standing toe to toe with Rhett, chest heaving with anger. Rhett was struggling to breathe having you so close.

If what you was saying was true, then that meant…

But it wasn’t true. Rhett had never gotten a single message from you, no matter how many times he had checked his damn phone.

“Stop lying to me.” He took a step back, then another until he felt like he could breathe again. “You promised. You promised you were gonna stay. And I wake up the next morning and your gone, no note, nothing. Then, my mother had to tell me that Rebecca and Amy are gone. Just like you. No note, no explanation, no inclination of dirty play. Nothing.” As he speaks, he watches her face shutter. It is so unlike her to have her emotions so on the surface like that, and yet Rhett can name every one that flies across her face.

“You were the last thing I thought about before I went to sleep and the first person I thought about when I woke up. My phone was never more then five feet away from me because I was worried that if you messaged, I would miss it. But you never did. I needed you. I needed you more then I have ever needed anyone and you left. So don’t come in here with this, it’s not my fault bullshit, because it had to be someone’s and it ain’t mine!”

You took a step back as Rhett finished, eyes wide as you stared at him, silent for the first time all night. It only made him realize how loud they had been, how much he had unwittingly shared with you. The tightness in his stomach grew as the silence stretched on.

He shouldn’t have said that. Shouldn’t have given you the satisfaction of knowing how completely broken he was. And it wasn’t fair of him to place all of the blame on you. You had been the straw that had broken the camels back, but there had been a fair amount of damage done to him long before you came along.

But you had still hurt him. And you had hurt him in a way that seemed so much worse than everyone else, because you had given him hope before snatching it away.

So he was quiet as he spoke, knowing that he had gotten his point across. “I don’t want to hear your excuses, because I don’t care.” Lie. “And if you care so much about making things right with me, then just do me a favor and leave and don’t find me again.” And then he was gone, storming to his truck and peeling out of the parking lot, only sparing a single glance in the rearview mirror to see you standing exactly where he had left you.

And maybe with enough time, after tonight, he could convince himself that it was him that who you. That for once, he hadn’t been the one standing in the rear view mirror wondering where he went wrong. Even though it felt like he was.

He had been home for an hour, staring at the dark house in front of him. On the one hand, he was beyond exhausted, mentally and physically, and he wanted nothing more than to collapse in his bed and sleep forever. But he was still raw from his argument with Sutton, the words spat still ringing his head.

But you don’t wanna hear the truth do you, cause it’s easier to lie to yourself then it is to except what really happened.

Just do me a favor and leave and don’t find me again!

And then he was moving. Opening his truck door and slamming it, not caring who he woke up in the process, and hoping the gate to the west pasture. And then he was walking, tripping over the holes and rocks. Ignoring the aches and the pains. When he finally reached the edge of the pasture, so far on the edge of their property that he could no longer see the barn lights, he crumpled, fisting his hands in the dirt, and screamed, disrupting the silence of the night.

He screamed, cursing god and everyone, cursing Royal and Cecilia and Maria for how bad they had messed him up. Cursed himself for being so goddamned unlovable.

He screamed for his shit past and his shit future.

He screamed, because he was to scared to end it and to much of a coward to change anything.

But when he went to curse your name, no sound came out. He sat there, gasping for air, his hands covered in dirt and blood, bringing them up to grip his hair, and he pulled, hard.

And then the tears came, burning a path down his cheeks as Rhett choked on the cold night air. It hurt. Everything hurt, and he was so tired. And it would have been so easy to take the knife from his belt and slit his wrists. Leave his body and maybe, finally, find some goddamned peace.

In a few days, Royal or Perry would find his body, half decomposed, and he imagined that they would be angrier at the fact that he had left them with so much work then sad that he had killed himself.

But he couldn’t make his hands move to grab the knife, let alone put enough pressure on his wrists to cut deep enough. Instead, he found himself falling onto his back, staring up at the sky, and praying that the cold just might take him instead.

He woke the next morning to the sound of birds chirping, and the sun casting a yellow glow in his eyelids. His entire body hurt from having slept on the ground, aggravating all of his injuries from his ride yesterday.

His watch read 6:28. Royal would be getting ready to walk to the barn to begin morning chores, Cecilia having just handed him a mug of coffee made just the way he liked it.

If they had seen his truck, then Royal would have been debating on whether to walk to Rhetts room or just check the truck first, there being a 50/50 shot that Rhett had actually made it to his room the night before.

As he made his way back to the barn, trying to ignore his pulsing shoulder, he imagined a world where Cecilia would greet him with a smile and a hug, ushering him into a chair and asking him how the rodeo went the night before. Her and Royal would both apologize for missing it, one of the horses had come in dead lame and they had to take it to the vet.

They would promise to be at his next one and congratulate him on his win last night.

But Rhett encountered Royal as he was stepping into the barn. Royal didn’t even clock that Rhett had come in from the pasture, or the way that he was leaning heavily on the door, desperate for some relief on his achy body.

Instead, he barked out orders, beginning the list of chores to do that day that they were already behind on.

So, Rhett just nodded, tucking the pain into the back of his mind, and got to work.

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