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edensbuttercups · 1 year

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I love you - Rhett Abbott x reader

A/N: This started as a fairly straightforward idea, spiralling into more words than I had planned and the nagging feeling that I didn't do the best of jobs at writing Rhett's character. However, I do love this mess of a cowboy with my whole heart, so I hope it somehow ended up not being too bad ♡

Words: 3.5k

As always, requests are open and comments are very much appreciated! Thank you for reading and hope you're all having a good day ♡

The first time you told Rhett you loved him you were drunk, and he, despite what most people would say about him, was too much of a gentleman to mention it ever again, keeping those words to himself.

You had sipped on your drink, pouting when he leaned over to steal some, sipping from your straw as he looked at you, listening to you intently as the words died on your lips, the sweet fruitiness on his lips nowhere near the taste of his own drink.

He had won, coming first at tonight’s rodeo, and you had offered to buy him a beer to celebrate, promising to set him free before the night’s end, even if you secretly hoped he wouldn’t leave your side, and that ended up being exactly what happened. You couldn’t help looking at him, with the light hitting him just right, making his blue eyes shining so brightly as he smiled back at you, feeling your lips turn upwards to match his and those three little words slip out effortlessly.

Time seemed to stop, but he didn’t say anything, his cheeks growing darker, maybe, the detail hard to notice with how he shifted back, the faint blue neon light hiding any evidence. You took a deep breath, thinking that he hadn’t heard you, a million questions whirling in your head. You had thought about it before, with each word exchanged, not all soft and kind, but teasing and mocking at times, when you’d blush at a remark, or when he’d come by just to check on you, having you insisting that you weren’t a child and needed no checking up on, even if you highly appreciated the gesture, especially when you were lonely.

But you were drunk, and he was quick to make conversation, so you forgot all about it as you sipped on your drink, soon finishing it and leaving you with reddened cheeks from the sweetness and alcohol cursing through your veins, along with some of his words.

He sat back in his seat, those words still ringing in his ears. Had it been anyone else, he could’ve joked about it, or gotten a good fuck out of it, had it been a buckle bunny, but not with you. Whenever he thought of you, his mind wandered into a future someplace new, where he could start over, not chained down by a family name or by a career that did nothing but hurt him, save for the moments of glory that left him full of adrenaline, even if they were nothing compared to the emptiness he felt when he didn’t make it.

He thought of you as someone that deserved better than what he could offer. Someone that deserved someone that would make you smile each day, that would hold your hand while you walked through the town, or that took you on travels through the state, living the life you deserved together, maybe starting a family, owning your own place.

But his wrist was bandaged up more often than not, and while he could hold your hand with his good one, he also thought that that wasn’t his best side, and if you were to stare up at him with your pretty eyes, it should be only to stare at whatever best version of him it was.

Moral of the story, he didn’t deserve you, and even if you said that you loved him, him, he knew it was a mistake. A cruel joke that whoever controlled his life thought would be funny to throw his way, surely laughing at how even if his jaw tensed and his cheeks darkened, he still ignored your comment, changing the subject until he could close the tab and leave, driving you home safe and wishing you a goodnight, never to mention those three words again.

But then it happened again, and this time he really thought someone was fucking with him.

You had been driving together, a spontaneous road trip for the day, leaving early in the morning, set to return just after dinner, a generous amount of food packed for every meal you’d intend on taking on the road.

There were no other cars for miles ahead, so when he spotted some wildflowers growing on the side of the road, he stopped the truck without a care, climbing out of it to pick you some. He could feel you staring at him from the car, but that didn’t stop him from taking his sweet time, picking the best ones and holding them all together, wishing he had a proper ribbon to tie them together but settling on using a stem instead.

He made his way back to the car and came over to your rolled-down window, handing you the flowers and blushing at the way you exclaimed, brushing it off with a shrug and a smile as he made his way back to the driver’s side. “You’re a big softie, Rhett.” You teased, calling out of the window as you looked down at each flower. He smiled at your words, closing his eyes when he slipped out of view, taking his time to walk back to the other side of the truck. It’s just flowers, he thought, it doesn’t mean anything. He tried to ignore his feelings. It wasn’t something new, he had started harbouring a small crush on you a few months after meeting you, the banter you two shared, the teasing, the jokes, as well as the care you showed him and that he learned to show you, that all paid it’s part in making his heart long to be in his future. And then you went and told him you loved him.

But once more, he didn’t deserve you.

Perry’s words rang in his head again, the she’s a real pretty thing. Deserves to move out of here, leave Wabang and be happy. He agreed, but that ‘deserves more’ easily turned into ‘deserves more than me’ in Rhett’s mind, leaving him stranded on an island of his own creation. He climbed back into the truck, catching a glimpse of how you still held your flowers, cradling them softly as if they were the most delicate thing you had seen. And, to be fair, they easily could’ve been. You knew Rhett wasn’t one for big gestures, usually going for small gestures that spoke volumes, like this. He stopped just to pick flowers for you. And that was enough.

You spent the rest of the day by a small lake, chatting and sitting by each other's side, the sound of laugher and lingering touches making both of your hearts beat faster, an illusion of what could've been painting an image that you could both think of tonight.

Soon enough, it was time to go home, packing everything up, the chatter never stopping, only merging into loudly sang songs on the drive back, the radio too loud for anyone's sake, but it was easy to enjoy it with how happy Rhett looked, the wind messing up his hair as he sang as loud as he could, changing the pitch of his voice to occasionally make you laugh, smiling like a fool when he succeeded.

He walked you to your door, a cheesy grin on his face as you twirled around for him, holding up the flowers once more, now droopy from the lack of water and nourishment, but still as colorful. “Thanks again.” You muttered, wanting nothing more than to invite him in, but knowing that his family was waiting for him, Cecilia’s meal already planned and portioned. “It was a pleasure. Thank you for bearing with me.” He chuckled, tilting his hat back slightly to see you better. Pulling your arms up, you took a step forward, wrapping them around his neck and pulling him in, resting your head on his chest as his arms hesitantly wrapped around you, “I never bear with you. I love spending time with you and I love you.” You whispered, knowing what you were doing.

You knew that you had already told him once, remembered it painfully well, remembered how he hadn’t had any reaction, but you were sick and tired of hiding your feelings for him, so you decided that now was as good a time to tell him. You felt him tense up beneath you, his sigh audible as he pulled back, offering you a tight lipped smile and a curt nod before turning away, leaving you standing on your front porch with a questioning look on your face. He didn’t turn around, didn’t look back, not when he knew that all he’d do was pull you under with him.

That’s what he did, chaining himself to the ranch a while ago, finding his own freedom in a career that damaged him and, eventually, those around him.

You had gone to see him compete a few times, and he still remembered the pain look on your face that first time, raising his eyes after a fall, still coming first out of all the others, to find you with a hand over your eyes, not wanting to see him hurt. It took him a good speech about how he was used to it, and how some painkillers would surely take all the pain away, to make those tears go away from your eyes, but you were still hesitant to hug him, complimenting him for his victory by holding his hand instead, slipping away when his family came to talk to him to try to steady your breath, the scene forever embedded in your mind. Two attempts later, after a total of three rodeos where you had witnessed Rhett fall and hurt himself fairly badly all times, despite him telling you that it was fully normal, you decided to stop, waiting for him once it was all finished, knowing that you’d find him in search of a drink to quench both his pain and his sadness, on some days. And so, just like all those times, he walked to his truck and didn’t face you, aware that the pained look on his face would only match your own, and he couldn’t bear to see that, couldn’t bring that home with him.

So he thought of how you smiled at the flowers, or chattered as you ate, or sang on the way home.

He thought of that and drove home, smiling as though he truly believed he could be the one to bring a smile to your face each day, to hold you when you needed him, to love you. He thought of that and drove home, pretending that he wasn’t the one that had and would bring you pain if you let him in too close, having heard the words that the town, that his family, spoke about him.

And so, after that day, he became more distant, focusing on his place in his family, not leaving the ranch unless it was to go drinking or riding.

Which is why, one evening, when you had enough of the silent treatment, the few texts he answered making you only miss him more, you drove to the bar, parking outside and taking a deep breath before walking in, easily spotting him slumped over at the bar, whiskey in one hand and face cradled in the other. “Rhett.” you spoke when you got near him, your hand brushing over his shoulder, feeling him tensing under your touch again, like he had a week ago when you told him you loved him, but not turning. “Rhett.” You said again, sitting by his side and waiting for him to look at you, but he didn’t, eyes focused on the bar, not looking at anything but his half-empty glass. You looked to the bartender and mouthed a the usual, sitting by Rhett’s side as you waited for your own drink. “What’cha doin’ ‘ere?” he slurred, still not looking at you even as his expression relaxed, feeling some comfort in your presence. He came second, that night, getting bucked off the bull and harshly falling to the floor, his shoulder taking mos “Came to find you.” You said with a shrug, nodding to the bartender when he placed your drink before you, the first sip of the drink giving you some extra strength, whether that was an illusion or not. “Missed you.” You added, turning to look at him again. He was easy to look at, his profile being a part of him you got to see less, his eyes often trained on you when you were around, that having been one of the first things that had spurred you on to confess your feelings. “Missed you too.” He replied, voice barely above a whisper, so faint you wondered if you had indeed heard him utter those words, but the way his eyes had closed gave you the confirmation you needed. “I’m sorry if I made things awkward.” You mumbled after another sip, sighing and hating yourself for backing down, but needing him to know. Even if he didn’t feel the way you felt, or didn’t want to acknowledge the way he felt, or whatever, you still wanted to keep him in your life, even if as a friend. “You didn’t.” He mumbled, shaking his head. “Then why have you been distant?” You asked, turning to look at him, watching him as he took another sip of his whiskey, cursing under his breath when he was met with nothing but a drop of it.

You stopped his hand from lifting again, holding it down. “I think that’s enough, Rhett.” you spoke, glancing at your own drink and deciding to leave it, wanting to be sober enough to drive him home safely, pushing it to the side. “C’mon, we’re going home.” you muttered, standing and helping him off the stool, draping his arm around you. You placed some cash by your drink, the bartender waving your way and wishing you a goodnight as you walk past him, Rhett’s body slumped over yours. He wasn’t doing much to hold his weight off of you, his head draped over yours and the ghost of a smile on his lips at the contact. His feet followed yours almost effortlessly, standing straighter and easing some of his weight off you as you approached your car, tapping your shoulder to signal you to let him go, standing and walking to the door without any issues. “Were you pretending to be drunker than you are?” You muttered, walking to the driver’s seat, a teasing smirk on your lips. “Maybe. Wanted a hug.” He chuckled, hissing as his head hit the headrest, eyes closed as your hand reached for his, squeezing it once. “Could’ve asked.” You muttered, rolling your eyes at his antics but smiling at him. You and Rhett weren’t overly touchy, not unless either of you was drunk, so this felt like the perfect opportunity, thumb rubbing over his skin, taking a deep breath. “You shouldn’t tell people that you love them.” Rhett said, finally breaking the silence, his eyes focused on the car’s dash, his eyebrows knitted together in stress and worry, the whiskey still making his words sound slurred.

He didn’t want to lose you, and he needed to make things right, but god, words were not his forte, especially not after drowning his sorrows with alcohol. “I don’t just tell anyone I love them, Rhett.” You said with a chuckle, squeezing his hand gently, afraid that your words or movements could scare him, too used to being seen as a wild animal to allow himself to feel safe. “Well, then you shouldn’t tell me. You can’t love me.” he huffed, pulling his hand away, pushing it close enough for your pinkies to still touch, but far enough for you not to hold it anymore. “And why is that?”

This was, probably, the first time you had seen Rhett so… distant. He was always there for his family, always willing to go above and beyond for those he love, rarely getting a full thanks because that’s just what he was expected to do, but when it came to him, he was distant. “Everyone agrees. You deserve better.” “And who’s everyone?” You ask curiously, tilting your head to the side.

As much as Rhett appeared to be fully in control, there was a lot of his life that he didn’t feel was up to him, and this was one of those moments. He had wondered if you were too good for him for a split second, and with the thought easily confirmed by Perry, the nagging feeling never left him. “Y’know. Perry-” He started, meeting your eyes when you interrupted him. “I’ll stop you right there. I don’t care what Perry thinks, or anyone else. There is one person’s opinion I care about, and they’re sitting by my side right now.”

A soft pitter patter echoed around you, the first droplets of rain making the streets shine a little brighter around you. “Why do you love me?” It didn’t sound like a question, more like a curse, a poisoned words on his lips that had made him believe for too many nights. "How long do you have? 'Cause the list is long." You joked, even if it was true. You could speak for hours about him, seeing his defects and loving him in spite of. He chuckled, shaking his head, not believing you, but listened nonetheless when you started talking again. “The first time I realized I loved you, was that time I was over for dinner. Cecilia had made something, forgotten about it when Amy fell, and ended up burning it. You ignored it, still taking a bite of it and complimenting her on the dish, even if we all knew you were lying.” You chuckled, turning your body to face him, reaching for his hand once again, holding onto it with both hands, thumb smoothing over his skin. “You’re kind, Rhett. And I love that.” His cheeks were growing warmer, a light tint coloring them, the only way to notice it being the soft glow of the light from the bar shining on him. “Is there a second time?” He asked, a little more confident from your words, surely aided by the whiskey just as much, but this time he relaxed into your touch, turning to look at you, eyes taking in your figure.

You chuckled, resting your head back and looking up, few stars visible with the light pollution. “You mean other than the thousands of times, like when you got me flowers from the road during the roadtrip, or covered me in your jacket when it rained, or opened the door to me when I came knocking at 2am?” All of those moments had stayed with you, making you fall deeper in love with him, time after time, his soft ways contrasting with the image everyone had of him. “I don’t think I can give you what you deserve.” He mumbled, looking away again, focusing on each droplet of rain as it hit the glass. “I believe you do.” You hummed, your hand finding his cheek, tilting his face so that he’d look at you. “One date? Then you can decide?” He wanted to laugh at your words. Then you can decide.

He had decided the first time you hugged him and his heart beat a little faster, and had confirmed his decision over and over each time you were around him, always getting the best of him out. “Tomorrow? 6pm?” he asked, his heart hammering in his chest at the question, nerves hidden behind a soft smile. “Tomorrow, 6pm.” You confirmed, leaning over to place the softest kiss to his cheek before turning the key and starting the car, wanting to keep your promise to get him home safe.

It took him one date, one kiss at your doorstep, one text message goodnight, for him to be completely smitten. Everytime he took your hand, or said a joke, or kissed you, he saw the way you smiled and laughed and beamed, your expression surely matching his, a look of pure love and adoration, and it felt good. It felt good to know that maybe he could be enough. He shifted slightly beneath you, pressing his lips to your head in a silent kiss, smiling as you sighed in your sleep. He looked at you, safely curled up on his chest, his bandaged wrist resting on your waist, holding you close, he realized that maybe he could make you smile each day, and he could hold your hand and show you off around town, his smile bright ‘cause he got to have you by his side, and he could pack his truck to explore the world. And even if he still doubted it, somehow, he promised you and himself that he’d do everything in his power to be what you deserved, each single day.

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