by Danah Logan
Pacing the length of my room about a dozen times, I eventually stop and take a deep breath. I can’t stall any longer before it becomes ridiculous. Rhys knows I’m up here. Our house isn’t that soundproof.
I can do this.
I’m halfway down the stairs when my phone vibrates in my hand with an incoming text message. I glance at my screen and stop with one foot in the air. The sender is listed as UNKNOWN. What the—? I swipe and stare at a picture of myself with Denielle at Magnolia’s. It’s from the morning I told her everything and ran into that weirdo. I scroll down, and the next picture shows me walking to my car after school. I’m bundled up, which tells me it’s also recent. The last picture is me at the gymnastics meet yesterday. I had just finished and am walking toward my coach. With every picture, my throat constricts more. After the last photo is a short message, and my throat completely closes up.
I can’t believe it’s really you.
My hands fly to my mouth, and I watch my phone clatter down the stairs.
I shouldn’t have gone to Lilly’s meet—and most definitely not with Kat. What was I thinking? Oh right, I wasn’t. After it sank in that she actually cares about me, possibly the same way I care about her, all I could think about was that I wanted to be near her. Screw the consequences.
I had just put my car in reverse when Kat texted to meet her for breakfast—a demand, not a question. I contemplated ignoring her, but she’d just call, so I sent a quick text back.
I’m busy. On my way to Lilly’s meet.
About to pocket my phone, another message appeared on my screen.
Pick me up. I’ll wait outside.
FUCK.
I knew if I argued it’d just result in a massive fight, and to be honest, I didn’t intend to pay any attention to Kat, so whatever. But in my hormonally-guided, eighteen-year-old guy brain, I didn’t even consider how Lilly would take me showing up with her.
Dumb. Dumb. Dumb. I want to kick myself in the balls for my stupidity.
Maybe I’ll have Wes do it. I deserve it.
When Denielle left me to hurry after Lilly, I went to find Kat. Leaning against my car, she was typing furiously on her phone, looking up when I approached.
"Why are we here, Rhys?"
Oh joy, first name.
"Because I wanted to support my sister." I forced myself to show no emotion—not how Lilly’s reaction had unsettled me and not how much Kat’s entire presence annoyed me.
She gave me one more glare before her entire demeanor changed. "Don’t forget Meghan’s party tonight. We’re all meeting at Chop’s Diner at seven and then heading over to her place."
Uh, what?
I just stared at her. Maybe she has ADHD? Something I’d considered before, because how can one person switch topics or personalities that quickly? Or she doesn’t give a shit about me. The party, however...I knew Meghan had been Kat’s rival for cheer captain for a while, and I was sure she had something planned.
"Yeah, sure." I was too exhausted to argue or let her know that I would most definitely not be there. I planned to be at home, hopefully talking to the girl I love.
My phone has been buzzing since six, but every time I see it’s neither Lilly nor Denielle, I put it back down, not bothering to read the messages.
When there is still no sign of Lilly by eight, I head downstairs and casually ask Mom. She holds my gaze a little longer than usual before replying, "Lilly is staying at Denielle’s."
Without another word, I turn on my heel and make my way back upstairs. I don’t have it in me to put on a show. Lilly is hiding at her friend’s house. What am I supposed to make of that? My chest tightens. I rake my hands through my hair and grab my jacket from my bed. Halfway toward the door, a voice in my head chastises me. What are you doing? Running off to a chick you can’t stand because your girl doesn’t immediately come home and throw herself at you?
Not knowing what’s going on with her makes me ball my fists, and I fight the urge to kick my desk chair across the room. Is this how Lilly felt two years ago? My anger and frustration instantly deflate, and I put my jacket back down.
Another sleepless night is ahead of me.
It’s early afternoon when I hear the garage door open and close, and someone—insert air quotes here—is trying to quietly sneak upstairs. She’s here. Mom and Dad are gone, and we could finally figure it all out, but she remains upstairs. I try to concentrate on my movie, but my gaze keeps wandering to the ceiling. We have to talk eventually; she can’t avoid me forever. Okay, maybe she can. I managed it pretty good for two years.
I hope she’s not that good.
Finally, I hear footsteps coming down the stairs, and my body starts tingling all over. But the footsteps halt. She’s making a run for it again. Fuck. Then, something falls down the stairs in a loud clatter, and I’m instantly off the couch.
I skid to a halt at the bottom step. Lilly is halfway up the stairs, pale as a ghost, with her hands in front of her mouth. Her eyes are wide. The last time I saw this look on her face was in the middle of the night in our hotel room. Every rational thought leaves me, and I take two steps at a time until I reach her. Without thinking, I pull her into my arms, and she returns my embrace without hesitation, shaking like a leaf. I feel my blood turn to ice. Something is seriously wrong. Her face is pressed against my chest, and she holds on for dear life. I have one arm wrapped around her back, and the other holds the back of her head. My thumb is moving back and forth, trying to soothe her.
"Babe, what happened? What’s wrong?" I murmur.
Lilly clutches even tighter, it’s almost painful. She mumbles something that sounds like, "He’s back," but my brain doesn’t comprehend her words.
I pull back to frame her stricken face with my hands. Tilting her head upwards, I search her eyes. "He who?"
All she does is glance toward the bottom of the stairs where I now see her phone.
That’s what made the sound.
I guide her to sit on the step and disentangle myself to retrieve the phone. I settle down on the same step and hold it out for her to unlock it. Without paying attention, she presses her thumb on the button, and a text message appears on the screen. I look at each picture until I get to the caption at the end and finally understand.
He is back.
"Fuck!"
I pull Lilly upright and lead her to my room where we both sink down onto the bottom of the bed. She pulls her legs underneath herself, and I lean forward with my forearms on my thighs, head low, staring at the floor. I have no clue how much time passes. I’m scared shitless, and the same thought runs through my head over and over.
This is my fault. I shouldn’t have let her go to California. This is all my fault.
"You called me babe." Her voice startles me.
My eyes snap up to Lilly, who is staring at her hands. I did? A chuckle escapes me at the absurdity of the situation. "Yeah, I guess I did."
"I liked that."
Wait, what? We just discovered that the psycho who kidnapped her ten years ago is back, and she likes that I called her babe? I must have misheard.
"Umm..." Smooth, way to play it cool.
Lilly glances at me through her lashes. Her eyes shine with an emotion I never thought I’d see her direct at me.
"Say something," she whispers.
"Uh..." I’m still too stunned to form a coherent response.
That’s when she reaches over and interlaces her fingers with mine. The contact gives me the jolt I need to snap out of my stupor. Holy. Fucking. Hell. She reciprocates my feelings. It hits me like a sledgehammer. For a fraction of a second, I forget everything that happened just minutes ago, and I want to pound my chest like a damn caveman. Before I can relish the feeling, though, reality comes crashing back.
He is back.
I squeeze her hand, and she leans her forehead against my shoulder. "I’m scared."
I let go of her hand and wrap my arm around her shoulder. "Me, too." And I am. I feel like the
seven-year-old boy all over again. Completely helpless.
Lilly wraps both of her arms around my waist, and we sit there. I’m the most terrified and—at the same time—the happiest I have been in years.
I am holding my girl in my arms. But I also can’t shake the feeling that this is all my fault.
Chapter Thirty
Exactly one week after receiving the email alert, I’m getting off the plane in Virginia. I had to stay through the New Year since Margot and I were hosting this year’s party. Hank and I used the remaining time to iron out the details for the expansion project. Stepping off the bottom step of the company jet, it feels like I’m in fucking Antarctica. Snow covers the ground, and with everything occupying my mind, I didn’t think to pack the appropriate attire. I stare at my brown Ferragamo loafers, no socks. Well, shit, guess I’m going shopping before settling in my suite.
I had called Margot from the plane, and she was displeased, to say the least. She knew I was leaving on a business trip, but I had neglected to tell her for how long since I had no idea myself. Next week is the annual charity event for Shelter for Kids, and it had completely slipped my mind. As vain as Margot can appear to an outsider with all her shopping and eccentrics, this is one of three charities she is one hundred percent dedicated to. When I first met her, it was one of the reasons that drew me in and made me want to get to know her beyond the casual hookup—which may have been the first reason, if I’m completely honest.
I promised to fly back for the event and to double my usual contribution. Not that that would’ve been necessary, but it also reduced some of my guilt. I do care for the charity as well; I just got...sidetracked.
I settle into my top-floor penthouse suite in the city before picking up a rental car at a no-name place on the outskirts. The rental car is for the sole purpose of driving to Westbridge and back. For everything business related, I will continue using the car service I hired to pick me up from the airport. I emailed the company my schedule, and they assured me that a car would be waiting downstairs every time.
It’s late afternoon on a weekday when I first drive into Westbridge, Virginia. Seeing the city limit sign, all my senses intensify. I scan my surroundings and take everything in as I pass the high school, Butler’s Gymnastics Academy, and a local coffee shop named Magnolia that several of Lilly’s friends have checked into on social media. This is where Lilly has spent the last ten years, with the exception of a brief stay in North Carolina. I take a deep breath and go through a mental list of things to do. My focus at home was the expansion project, which left me little time to prepare for the other reason for this trip. I am in no way ready, which is not like me. I plan—extensively. I calculate. I wait for the right time, and then I execute. But not this time, so now I have to do the planning locally. I have to get everything right, and that will take time. At least I have enough work to do that the waiting hopefully won’t be too excruciating.
I’d arrived during winter break, but as soon as school starts back up, I learn Lilly’s routine quickly. She does the same things every day. School, practice, home, with the occasional meeting of friends. On the weekends, she goes to a local gym with her friend Denielle, who has rarely left her side since I arrived. She seems to be a good friend to Lilly, and that pleases me. She only deserves the best.
Back in my suite, I load today’s pictures and carefully scan all of them. I was surprised to see Rhys at Lilly’s gymnastics meet, and from her look in some of the pictures, Lilly wasn’t very happy about her brother’s show of support. Skipping through the pictures faster, it’s apparent that Lilly is distracted. She has a scowl in almost every photo. What has you so bothered, Lilly? The last picture makes me stop. Lilly looks like she’s yelling at her brother. His face is in complete shock, and from Denielle’s hand on Lilly’s arm, it looks like she’s comforting her. Interesting.
Last night, I spent several hours carefully choosing the three pictures I am now looking at. They are the perfect selection from the last few weeks. She just arrived home. I didn’t want to do this while she was out and risk something happening to her. It’s time to make contact. I hit send and lean back in my chair, fingers interlaced behind my back, smiling at the screen.
Soon we’ll meet again.
Chapter Thirty-One
Ever since reading the caption at the bottom of the text message, I’m paralyzed. My brain-to-body connection has been severed, and my legs won’t obey my command to run and hide.
Sitting on Rhys’s bed, I focus on the one thing that distracts me from him. Psycho-kidnapper him, not Rhys him.
I can’t help the embarrassment of not admitting it to myself sooner. The signs were clear as day, but I simply couldn’t fathom how I could be in love with my brother—well, not my brother, but my best friend since birth. But he was my brother longer—at least on the surface. Perhaps Den is right and the memory doctor didn’t do his job all the way. Maybe he left some old connections in place that eventually surfaced again? I just chose to ignore it, listening to the logical side of my brain instead of my heart.
Unfortunately, the distraction doesn’t last very long, and the bone-chilling fear grips me again. Holding onto Rhys is what’s keeping me from completely losing it. My head is nestled against his side, and I inhale his familiar scent. Safe.
I lose track of time when Rhys suddenly whispers against my hair, "Let’s get out of here."
I pull far enough away to see his face. "Where are we going?"
His gaze settles somewhere over my shoulder, and he shrugs. "I don’t know. Out. I don’t want to be here when Mom and Dad come home."
My breathing instantly doubles. "What if he follows us?"
Rhys stiffens but wraps his arms around me again. "We’ll be careful."
He puts up a front, but anxiety is coming off him in waves. He is as freaked out as I am. Though, I have to agree with him; I don’t want to be here either when Heather and Tristen come home. The whole charade would tumble down faster than the cheerleaders’ pyramid during last year’s homecoming game when Katherine forced the new girl to do back handsprings in the front row, and the poor girl knocked over two of the guys holding everyone up. Needless to say, the whole thing didn’t end pretty.
I’m pulled out of the memory when Rhys stands up and drags me with him by the hand. He doesn’t let go until we reach the garage.
Rhys’s car is inside as usual, and I parked in front of Heather’s spot outside of the garage. Neither of us has to be out in the open for us to leave. Rhys leads me to the passenger side door and waits until I’m settled before walking over to his side. As soon as the dome light is off, he reaches over and interlaces our fingers together again. He hits the garage door button and slowly backs out into the driveway. The street is quiet, but instead of its usual peaceful feel, the hair on my arms stands up, and I’m scanning our surroundings feverishly. Rhys makes sure the garage door is closed before he fully pulls out into the street. He squeezes my hand, never looking away from the road.
We drive for some time, not letting go of each other’s hands. Rhys absentmindedly strokes my hand with his thumb. His fingers are calloused from years of training, but despite the rough texture, the touch is gentle and sends tingles through my body. I relish the feeling of safety it evokes inside of me. We stop at a small café a few towns over. When no other car pulls into the parking lot for ten minutes, we deem it safe and exit the Defender. I pick the table farthest from the windows and door while Rhys get us something to drink. He puts a steaming paper cup of Earl Grey tea in front of me, lid placed on a napkin on the side. Warmth rushes through me like a big wave. He still remembers my quirks.
We don’t talk, both just holding onto our respective cups. I notice Rhys staring at my fingers. His thumb is moving back and forth against his coffee cup like he is still caressing my hand. I ache with the need to feel his touch again and intensify the grip on my tea harder, fighting the urge to reach out to him.
Eventually, Rhys breaks the silence. "Do
you want to tell Mom and Dad?"
I look up. His face is deadly serious, but I don’t have to think about my answer. "Not yet." Logically, we should. Any sane person would, but every fiber of my being screams at me that it’s not time yet.
He nods, lips pressed together as if he is keeping himself from saying something else. I continue, "So far, we only know that he is back, but not what his end game is—besides that he wants me."
Rhys’s posture goes rigid, and he almost crushes the paper cup. Without thinking, I reach over and cover his hands with mine. His eyes dart to my face, and I realize what I’ve done, pulling back immediately. We’re in public.
"I think we should wait and see if he makes contact again. We can tell Heather and Tristen at any point, but I’m not ready yet. They’ll freak out and do God knows what, probably pack up the house and move us in the dead of night." I have to grin at the visualization of that, but then another thought occurs. I add, my tone somber, "And it opens too many other doors I don’t want to deal with."
Rhys immediately understands. "Your parents?"
It still blows my mind how he always seems to read my mind. I nod. "And us."
His expression turns into surprise. Almost like he doesn’t expect there to be an us.
I blush. "Well, once they find out, everything will change. Tristen was very clear in his stance about your feelings for me. What if they make one of us leave? I’m not eighteen yet, so it would be you!" With every word, my breathing gets more ragged, and the thought of Rhys leaving me, voluntarily or not, has me close to hyperventilating. I can’t handle any more changes at this point.
