I hover close to Clay without meaning to, my fingers brushing his sleeve, grounding myself in the familiar weight of him. He glances down at me, the pinch in his expression softening just a fraction. Exiting through the back, we circle around the side of the house to the porch cloaked in shadow. The wood creaks underfoot as if protesting our return. Rhys crouches near a loose board, reaching beneath the step. Retracting his hand, the chrome key glints against his skin, a loaded exhale shifting his shoulders. We enter the house without incident, all of us looking around as if anticipating a jump scare.
“Well, that was anticlimactic," Addy says suddenly from behind me, meaning I find my jump-scare after all. Glaring at her, she shrugs against the thick straps of her bag. “I guess I’ll be off.
“Wait, you’re not staying here? With us?” I blink rapidly whilst Rhys tells her not to let the door hit her ass on the way out. Addy ignores Rhys, her dimples catching as she smirks at me knowingly.
“I think I’ve done enough fourth wheeling. Besides, I haven’t seen Nikki in over a week. You’re not the only one who needs to get laid.” Addy’s eyes drop to the yellow bruise I know to be on the fleshy part of my neck where Rhys bit me the other night. He’s been truly insatiable, and it's been noticed that Clay has stepped back to let it happen. I just don’t know how to break it to Clay that Rhys isn’t working me out of his system, he only seems to be getting hungrier for more.
“What happened to laying low and not giving Phillip a heads up on where we’ve gone?” Clay asks Addy, to which she rolls her eyes.
“Phillip Waversea doesn’t have any issue with me.”
“You drank his Château Blanc and called him a murderer,” Rhys points out bluntly. I catch the ghost of appreciation flash across Rhys’ features before he locks it down tight. He’s impressed, and probably annoyed that he didn’t do it first. Stepping forward, Addy puts her hands on my shoulders, her mind made up either way.
“I have a life to get back to. One that my mother won’t let me fall behind on. If Phillip has an issue with me attending this academy, he’s welcome to take it up with her, but if you think I’m a force of nature, you do not want to meet my mom.” Pulling me into a hug, Addy squeezes me tighter than a simple goodbye. This feels more like the end of something that barely started. Shifting my hair behind my ear, she murmurs beside my receiver, “Stay safe, and by that I mean, use protection. The world doesn’t need another Rhys.”
I bark a laugh despite myself, banishing the urge to cry that was creeping up on me. Addy lingers for half a second longer, her hands still on my upper arms like she’s memorizing the feel of me, like she’s bracing herself to walk back into the version of Waversea she had before me.
“Text me when you get there,” I murmur as a precaution. Addy hums her agreement, already stepping back. Swinging her bag higher on her shoulder, she shoots a two-finger salute in Rhys’ direction, whose hand is already braced on the door to shut her out. The cool night air is slipping inside, and for a moment, Addy is framed by the porch light, unapologetically confident as usual.
“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” she calls back, pausing just long enough to wink when Clay snorts, and Rhys scoffs.“Actually, do. Just don’t get arrested.” Then she’s gone, her footsteps retreating into the dark, swallowed by the quiet left in her absence.
The door clicks shut with a finality that settles deep in my bones. I stare at it, my reflection faint in the glass before Clay’s hand finds the small of my back. The house feels bigger now, emptier in a way I didn’t think possible. One less heartbeat moving through it. One less voice filling the space.
Rhys exhales slowly, scrubbing a hand over his face before straightening, his shoulders squaring like he’s bracing himself for whatever comes next. It’s just the three of us again, standing in a house that’s never been called a home. Lingering on the edge of a cliff that will either see us fall or fly.
Despite all Rhys’ efforts to push us away, all he’s done to shut the world out, we’re right here, trying to build something new from the wreckage. Nerves flutter low in my stomach, the ache of saying goodbye to the first real friend I ever had is still raw, but I stay rooted where I am. For better or worse, we’re back, seeking Phillip’s downfall in a place where he holds all the power.
Clayton is the first to move, instinctively checking windows and drawing curtains. Rhys lingers near me, his eyes raking over the kitchen as if he’s cataloguing what’s there. Or rather, what’s missing. It’s then that I notice something isn’t quite right, or rather, not quite the same as the last time I was here.
Fresh paint and lemon polish filter through the open-plan rooms as opposed to smoke and testosterone. Drawn into the house, I flick the light switch. Without hesitation, a living area that’s seemingly been put together with careful hands illuminates before me. The sofa cushions have been washed and plumped, and a vase of fake flowers is in the center of a new coffee table. A patch of the wall has been repaired and painted over, but if I look hard enough, there’s a ripple where rage once lived. Through the archway, the staircase railing appears to bea different shade than before. Even the floorboards have been sanded, the faintest hint of a bloodstain marring the woodgrain. I stand over it, my head slightly tilted.
“What the hell happened here? Was…Was it Kenneth?” I frown, even though I know the timeline doesn’t work. Rhys’ arm closes around my shoulders, intent on pulling me towards the staircase and diverting my curiosity. Luckily, when I glance back at Clay, he’s far more forthcoming.
“Nope, this was all Rhys in response to losing you. Before he knew you’d been taken,” Clay quickly adds for clarity. My mouth drops open, my eyes wide now, taking in the room Rhys is ushering me out of. Rhys did this after I left him, after I told him he didn’t know what love was. The idea of him alone in this house, spiralling, tearing it apart piece by piece because I was gone, because he thought I would never come back, settles deep in my chest.
Stepping into the hallway, my feet finding the same spot he kissed me while I fought and cried, it all comes back with the weight of a battering ram. This beautiful man, marred by the angels and demons at war on his skin, begged me to stay with him. If I had, Kenneth never would have found me alone and vulnerable. If I had…well, I’d be the queen of a tyrant, punishing the students of Waversea for a sin they didn’t commit. And deep down, as much as this moment is drawing an ache to my chest, I know I wouldn’t have been happy.
“Hey,” Rhys grips my face, angling me to look up at him. I track the misery swimming in his blue eyes, the tightness of his jaw, the scar where his lip ring used to be. I didn’t want to ask before, and now I know. I don’t even feel the tear spill over until Rhys leans in and kisses it away from my cheek. “It’s okay,” he murmurs. It’s all too similar, his hold on me, the gut-wrenching agony of losing him, hitting me all over again. He felt the same pain, hence the reconstruction of his frat house.
“I’m sorry,” I manage. Rhys shakes his head, his cheek pressing against mine.
“I have you now. That’s all that matters. I love you.”
“I know you do, I feel it.” Between us, my hand presses over his heart, feeling the steady beat. We’ve come full circle, but I still wish I didn’t have to cause so much pain to get here. My fingers curl into the fabric of his T-shirt as he nudges me backwards, one step at a time, away from the evidence of his anguish. Reaching the base of the stairs, Rhys shifts me into his side, but I still cling to him desperately. He pauses just long enough to look over his shoulder.
“You coming? Our girl needs us.” Within an instant, another hand smooths over my waist, Clay stepping in behind. His warmth seeps across my back, his gentle reminder to be my loyal protector. I don’t need to hear it in words, my connection with Clay is deeper than that. Instinctive.
The staircase creaks softly beneath our feet, each step carrying us to the quiet above. Wordlessly, we arrive at Rhys’ room down the end of the hall, the door cracked open. He pushes it wider with his foot, grunting at the cleanliness before us. Whoever was in charge of clean-up has done a thorough job. The bed’s been remade, the sheets fresh and inviting.
Rhys releases me to shut the door behind us, the click loud amongst the stillness. Clay moves too, stepping aside to lean against the wall with his arms folded. The intention is clear. He’s removing himself so Rhys can appease his demons first. Relying on the slip of moonlight through the curtains, I reach out and grab Clay’s bicep, tugging him towards the bed. This trio we’ve created isn’t about tapping in and out, and I won’t let him become content watching from the sidelines. That’s the exact eventuality he turned down, and rightly so. We’re all equals here, so when Rhys stays standing, hovering with a small tic in his jaw, I beckon him to join us.
Rhys pauses to kick his sneakers off before perching on the edge of the mattress. The space between us is intentional, and I raise my brow. “You’re not joining us?” I ask, my intention evident. Rhys glances over at Clay, something secretive being said between them.
“I’m being…selfish,” Rhys comments. I press a hand over my chest, my face the mocking picture of shock.
“You?! Selfish?” He cracks a grin, giving me a gentle shove. The anxiety between us is still present, but at least we’re smiling through it. We’re together, back in the house I thought I’d never revisit, on the verge of a new venture.
If it wasn’t for Klara’s tip, we probably wouldn’t bother ever stepping onto this campus again, but there’s something here. Something we’ve missed, and I’m determined to find it for Rhys’ sake. He's doing a fantastic job at concealing his emotions, and anyone else might think he's more stable than he’s ever been, but I know differently. It's in the way he holds me at night. The way he's clinging to me at any moment possible, and I don't mind. I'm happy to provide comfort, to be his home.
