In pairs, small mumbles of chatter break out. The women are relaxed with one another, their bodies shifting together seeking comfort without realizing it. Halfway through breakfast, Harper tilts her head, eyes scanning the room, the sheer number of women finally clicking. Placing her pastry down, she frowns at me, signing across the table.
‘Is this a woman’s shelter?’As the words travel across the table, my own mind catching up on the obvious. A reddened twinge colors Harper’s cheeks, her hands signing some words I’m yet to learn, but I get the general meaning.‘I’ve been screaming all night. I have handprints bruised into my neck. What must they think?!’
Despite myself, a small chuckle escapes me. If anyone at this table truly thought Harper was in danger, I’m sure Rhys andI would have woken to the sight of uniforms and handcuffs. Oblivious to her concerns, Rhys reaches over Harper’s shoulder and plucks the cinnamon bun from her hold, taking it for himself. He does appear rather toxic, but I know his faults aren’t a choice. More of a learned behavior. I never thought I’d see the day when I was defending Rhys Waversea, my enemy, rival and bully. But I also didn’t think I’d discover a side to him that cared about something other than himself.
Leaning over, Sienna asks if I’d like to take a plate of food up to my girlfriend, meaning Addy, and balks when I tell her that Harper is in fact my girlfriend. It doesn’t help anyone’s confusion that Rhys is currently using his thumb to wipe some cinnamon sugar from the corner of Harper’s mouth, and proceeds to suck it clean himself. I ignore the curious glances and the heat rising up the back of my neck.
The rest of breakfast passes without incident, although one girl flinches when Rhys reaches over to take her plate. He joins my side at the basin, me washing and him drying, an air of comfort settling around us. We stumbled upon this place by accident, but I’m thankful for the reprieve between the manor and whatever will be waiting for us back at the academy. One last morning to simply be, before the rest of the world and their grandma’s have something to say about our unconventional arrangement.
I do take food and a coffee for Addy, needing to coax her out of the blankets like a wild animal. She even tries to bite me when I pry her eye mask off, but calms down once she smells the caffeine. Packing our bags and zipping them closed, I tell Addy to meet me in the entrance hall when she’s ready. I then knock on Rhys’ door to state the same, adding that we need to hit the road before there’s too much traffic to contend with.
Downstairs, Harper has made herself at home on the window seat, the book in her hand and a small smile on her face asshe reads. I take a moment to appreciate her like this, in her own cocoon of bliss that no one can touch. She’s always breath-taking, but something about her softened expression when she’s lost in a book that makes my heart expand. Of all the fake and materialistic women in the world, she’s like the freshest breath of air breezing through. I leave her for as long as I can, seeking out Sienna to thank her for the hospitality.
“You need to be careful who you permit to stay,” I chastise lightly, my attention caught on three women on the sofa, all working on the same crochet project. Sienna's eyes beam with warmth as she lightly touches my arm.
“I’ve seen enough in my time to know a good soul from a tainted one. My ladies aren’t in any danger with you or your friends here.” It’s on the verge of my tongue to ask how she sensed that in Rhys so easily, but then he and Addy appear on the stairs, shoving each other with their elbows to descend first. Rolling my eyes, Sienna laughs and those in the dining area peer over. There seems to be some kind of painting workshop happening on the large table, being led by the shy brunette. She doesn’t seem so shy now, surrounded by the women who appear as close as family.
Addy hops off the bottom step in triumph, her smile knocked aside by the backpack Rhys bashes into her head whilst putting it on. I need to get those two out of here before a real fight breaks out. Unable to hold off any longer, I interrupt Harper. She glances up, slightly dazed, disconnecting from the story and returning to reality. Smiling almost sadly, she closes the book and tucks it beneath her arm for later.
We gather by the door, boots and sneakers being pulled on, jackets shrugged into place. Rhys stands slightly apart, his shoulders back and expression carefully neutral as Sienna thanks us again for helping with breakfast. He nods, uncomfortable with praise, his hands shoved into the pocket ofhis sweatshirt like he’s unsure where to put them when he’s not fighting or fucking or guarding something precious.
That’s when the little girl appears again, breaking free from her mother’s side with surprising confidence. She pads across the hardwood floor in socked feet and tugs on the hem of Rhys’ sweatshirt, small fingers curling into the fabric. Every muscle in his body goes still. I watch him brace for something unexpected, then soften when she holds up a folded piece of paper. Inside, there’s a drawing of crayon lines and uneven petals, a young artist's attempt at a pink rose.
He crouches down slowly so he’s eye level with her, his movements careful so as to not scare her. Something flickers across his face that I don’t have a name for. Shock, maybe, or grief. Or a version of tenderness he keeps buried so deep, even he forgets it’s there.
“You drew this for me?” he asks quietly, his voice stripped of its usual edge. She nods, curls bouncing, eyes bright now instead of afraid. Rhys takes the drawing like it’s something fragile, like it might fall apart if he grips it too hard. “It’s beautiful. Thank you,” he tells her, and I swear his throat works around the words. Rhys hesitates, then adds, “You’re very brave. I know I look rather scary, but someone is showing me that I don’t have to be.”
Despite being unaware of his statement, Harper’s eyes shine from where she stands. The girl beams, then darts back to her mother’s side, her mission complete. Rhys stays crouched for a beat longer than necessary before standing, clearing his throat and folding the picture carefully, sliding it into the pocket of his sweater.
Without comment, we leave together as a unit. Addy slips her hand into Harper’s, still half asleep but smiling. Harper shifts instinctively to Rhys’ side, her fingers brushing his wrist tentatively. He glances down at her, something unspokenpassing between them. I take up the rear with the bags, content to oversee those I’ve come to care for. Being the protector of our small group of misfits no longer feels like a chore, but like something I chose. Something I’m good at. I’ve found my purpose, and no matter what awaits us at Waversea, I’ll keep us all safe. That’s the man Jeremy raised me to be, and I hope I’m finally making him proud.
Chapter Twenty Nine
By the fourth motel, I stop learning the names of the towns. They blur together in the same palette of flickering vacancy signs, threadbare carpets that smell faintly of bleach and old smoke, and parking lots lit by sodium lamps that hum all night like insects you can’t swat. The truck has become the only constant. Addy and I fill the back seat with verbal trash or laughter that’s too loud in between dozing and snacking, all while Clayton draws us closer to our destination. Whatever it takes to ignore the building strain of heading to a place we’re no longer welcome.
Phillip might not think we would return to the academy, since Rhys no longer has access to the jet, but I doubt that would stop him from personally unenrolling each of us. Rhys anticipates being evicted from the frat house, barring him from campus. I bet Clayton can kiss his scholarship goodbye, the state of my education was already up in the air, and all of that is fine.
We don't need Phillip Waversea. We don't need handouts or permission. As long as we're together, bolstering and caring for one another, we will find space. We’ll demand the right to exist.
In the spirit of family, I pull out my phone and text my Aunt, lying that everything is going as well as it should be. Perhaps it's a blessing that she's too busy with her cats to watch the news or fuss over me, and I'm more than happy to leave her blissfully unaware of the current state of my life. She replies with a thumbs up and a heart emoji, no doubt juggling tins of cat food and tripping over impatient tails. Beside me in the back seat, Addy perks up, a smile creeping across her lips as she peers out the window. I follow her gaze, blinking as familiarity starts to seep in.
The town surrounding the Waversea grounds unfolds slowly, like a walk back through a memory that remains unchanged. Low brick storefronts with faded awnings line the main road, their windows displaying handwritten signs and sun-bleached posters for events long past. There’s a bakery on the corner with fogged glass and a bell above the door, a diner with cracked vinyl booths that students stumble into after late practices. Trees arch over the streets as we get closer, their branches heavy and mature, roots buckling the sidewalks they’ve claimed as their own.
Then the campus rises into view, ivy crawling up academic buildings that look more like estates than places of learning. Turning away from the lecture halls and courtyards, Clay takes the tarmac road behind the dorm buildings that leads to the frat houses.
I hadn’t anticipated the way my heart would seize or how violently the memories would come rushing back, uninvited and sharp. My body reacts before my mind can catch up. I shrink back into the seat, pressing my shoulder into the door, fixing my gaze anywhere but the parking lot passing on the left. More specifically, the stretch of asphalt where Kenneth found me, red-eyed, shaking, and all too trusting. In a sense, that spot feels haunted now, crowded with echoes that make my skin prickle.I swallow hard, my throat tightening as if my body is trying to protect me by closing in on itself.
The row of frat houses looms ahead, Rhys’ house at the far end of the street. Up front, the boys quietly discuss logistics. I catch fragments of it. Hidden keys, back porch, automated garage doors, security reset. Words that should be reassuring, but only make the pressure in my chest spike. My hands start to shake. I tug my receivers off and drop them into my lap, the sudden silence doing little to help when my own thoughts are screaming.
This was the last place on campus that I saw them together, their eyes sunken and hopes shattered. It’s been easy to forget what was left behind when we’ve been filling our time with drinking and playing games, testing boundaries and pushing limits. Easy to forget how I looked them both in the face and stated there would be no future in which I would choose.
Sure, we may have found a way to come together now, but at what cost? Even though they’ve managed to rebuild themselves to fit around my wants and desires, I still broke them first. The guilt is sudden and unexpected, seeming to have no place in this car but consuming my thoughts all the same. I don’t even realise we’ve parked until my door is yanked open, Clayton’s brows furrowing at the way I’m chewing on my lower lip.
“You okay?” he mouths, noticing the receivers in my lap a moment too late. Raising his hands to sign, I quickly take them in my own, clutching to his warm palms for strength.
“I’m fine, promise,” I manage a small smile. Clay doesn’t seem convinced as he watches me click my receivers back into place, promising myself that I’ll be present for this. Hopping out of the truck, my feet hit the concrete of the garage. The bulb above us is still flickering to life, the chill of night seeping beneath the automated door before it closes.
It’s not an accident that we entered campus under the cloak of darkness. Addy is the only one of us who has kept up to date on the student forum, and apparently, there were still reporters hanging around earlier today. What they’re waiting or hoping for is beyond me, but I’m sure as shit not going to give it to them.
