“We’re moving to a quad dorm across campus,” he shrugs to hide the slight blush that coats his cheeks. Eddy turns back, presuming we’re decent and then cries out when he discovers that not all of us are. Slapping his hands on his thighs, Eddy dismisses himself, heading deeper into the house. My attention returns to Rhys, who has had the good grace to pull on his boxers at least.
“My parents aren’t the only ones who wanted a fresh start. We’re going to do it properly this time. Real students, new dorms. I’ll carry my own backpack and everything.”
For a heartbeat, I just stand there, suspended in the aftershock of his words, like my brain needs a second to catch up with my heart. A fresh start for all of us? The simplicity of it knocks the air from my lungs. That’s all I wanted, all I came to Waversea for. A chance to wipe the slate clean, except this time, I get to do it with two men who love me.
The idea blooms in my chest so fast it almost hurts, warmth spreading through me until I’m grinning like an idiot, tears threatening for no reason other than the fact that I’m so unbelievably happy.
“Rhys…” I breathe, the sound of his name light and airy. “I love that! Why didn’t you say something?” Rushing forward, I fly into his arms. He sweeps me off the floor, gripping me closer than ever before.
“I just wanted one last good memory in this house,” he says, and something in my chest twists fondly. I get it now. This frat house was never a home to Rhys, but we built some memories, some better than others. We fell in love here, but we also broke apart here. A new beginning is needed for all of us.
“Good looking out,” Clay nods his head to Rhys, tapping a hand on his shoulder. For the first time that I’ve seen, Rhys doesn’t try to shrug him off. “Although, we could have saved dealing with your blue balls for christening our new pad.” The boys share a mischievous little smirk that says,"We'll be doing that anyway."
“Yeah, well,” Rhys grunts. “I just wanted to give Mclean something to remember me by.”
“Yeah, thanks a lot. Really appreciate it,” a disgruntled yell comes from the kitchen, heavily laced with sarcasm. I laugh before I can stop myself, the sound spilling out free andunguarded, echoing through a house that no longer feels like a battleground.
“I need to pack!” I smack his shoulders lightly. Rhys puts me down, a light laugh leaving his throat. Clay is quick to sweep me up, pinning me into his side and placing a kiss on my head. I beam up into his onyx eyes, into Rhys’ piercing blue ones, relishing being held safely between them. The soreness between my legs gives way to the elation bursting through my being. Rhys has given us so much more than just new living quarters. He’s given us all the promise of a future we always thought would be just out of reach.
Epilogue One
Rolling my shoulders, I exhale sharply in an effort to hype myself up. Without succeeding, I push open the glass door of the red brick building anyway. I’ve been meaning to make this visit for a while, but the timing has never seemed quite right. There’s always been an excuse ready. Court dates, hospital check-ins, Harper needing me, or the simpler truth that I wasn’t ready. Guilt has a way of disguising itself behind excuses.
I step into the main lobby, finding a small waiting area to my right and a glass-enclosed counter to my left. I don’t know what I was expecting, but the cheery man behind the desk wasn’t it. Maybe a uniformed guard with a gun strapped to his chest, or orderlies in blue scrubs with a syringe perpetually at the ready. Instead, the receptionist’s attire is relaxed. A faded rock band T-shirt and jeans, coffee-colored hair that far exceeds the length of mine. He looks like he should be arguing about vinyl records in a bar, not manning the front desk of a mental health facility.
After waiting to be called forward, I approach the desk. “I’m here to visit Kenneth Dockerson.” The man, whose nametag labels him asBert, fails to hide his surprise before smoothing it over with a polite smile.
He slides a stack of forms across the counter and asks me to fill them out. I borrow his pen and lean against the counter since I’m the only visitor who’s shown up today. That alone should tell me something, but I had ripples of anxiety about this long before I hopped out of my truck. Accepting the forms back, Bert copies my details onto his keyboard, his smile tight.
“You’ll be the first visitor Kenneth has had,” Bert says lightly. “Do you know him well?” I grunt in response, not knowing how to fully answer. Once, I thought I did. Now I have my reservations that anyone knows Kenneth well, including himself. Keeping my eyes fixed on the sign behind his head, Bert fills the silence instead of focusing on his typing.
“He’s such a kind and gentle kid. It’ll be good for him to have someone to talk to.” The printer by his elbow whirs to life, printing a label-sized page attached to a red lanyard. Bert’s own lanyard is green, I note as he passes mine over the separating desk. “My colleague will take you from here. Welcome toLangton State Mental Hospital, Mr. Michaels."
The colleague, a woman with a slicked-back bun and a much more serious demeanor than Brett, asks me to follow her beyond a restricted door and to a set of lockers in the next room.
“We don’t allow visitors to take personal belongings into the institution. Can never be too careful.” She gestures to the locker nearest. With a shrug, I dump my bag and phone inside, lock it, and pocket the key in my jeans just as a large security guard steps inside with a handheld metal detector. After a brief once-over, I’m permitted entry down a corridor along the outskirts of the building.
This part is exactly as I’d expected. White walls, closed doors and keypads. I can only imagine what the rooms look like, padded cells and pacing straightjackets. However, the staffing seems to be minimal, and the air is calm, lacking the occasional screams I’d anticipated. Everything thatshouldput me at easesomehow does the opposite. At the end of the corridor, double doors open and I’m ushered inside with a quiet instruction to make myself comfortable.
Similar to the main entrance lobby, this room is eerily empty, and I’m left wondering if I missed visitation day. Facing rows of low, cushioned chairs separated by coffee tables, I wander between a few before selecting one about a third of the way down. Close enough to remain by the door but not too close to already have one foot out of it. There, I alternate between drumming my fingers on my jeans and picking at a rogue thread on the hem of my white T-shirt whilst taking in anything and everything I can. I’m under strict orders to report back in vivid detail.
A shutter at the back marks a kitchen hatch, which is currently closed. Inspirational quotes line the walls, each one about small steps, second chances, and beginnings disguised as endings. And that’s when the real waiting begins. A yawn sneaks up on me, wishing I’d brought a book with me.
Harper came up with the idea of a book club that consists only of her, me, and Addy, with the intention of sharing our thoughts and opinions in sign language. I said yes because communicating with her in sign makes her smile in a way no one else gets to experience.Cough, cough, Rhys.
The downside is that Addy got to pick the first book, and now I’m reading a retelling of Malice in Wonderlust with the Tweedle twins as vampire strippers. Not how I expected to be spending my Wednesday and Thursday evenings now that Rhys stays over at his parents' two nights a week. They have a lot of rebuilding to do, figuratively and literally. The release of their funds means they can start over, and resume their lives with the best care money can buy for his mom. Whatever time she has left, I’m thankful Rhys gets to be a part of it.
Finally, a door opens. I straighten abruptly, realizing I’d slouched almost horizontal in my seat. A petite woman steps in, a clipboard in one hand and the other resting gently on Kenneth’s shoulder. There are no cuffs. No restraints. Just the same red-haired boy I remember, walking toward me with hesitant steps. His head stays ducked as the woman introduces herself as his counsellor before sitting a short distance away. I rest my elbows on my knees and watch Kenneth settle into the chair opposite me.
“I didn’t expect to see you again,” he mutters. Everything I rehearsed evaporates. I tried multiple times to imagine who I’d meet in this facility. The roommate who babbles incessantly. The version of him with a dangerous edge that Harper warned me about ahead of this visit. All of that preparation for nothing, because I barely recognize the person sitting opposite.
He’s skinny, worryingly so. His skin is ashy, as if the brightness has been turned down on his freckles. Even his curly hair is limp, but it’s Kenneth’s muddy brown eyes that strike me the most because they’re half-lidded and unfocused.
I look to the counsellor, opening my mouth to ask just how strong his medication is, but then I remember, I’m not his advocate. I’m barely his friend, though I can ask Rhys’ lawyer to check it out. Wow, it really is easy to shake responsibility with the right money and connections. Instead, I clear my throat and look around the room again.
“Why is it so quiet here?”
Kenneth glances around, the pinch of his features relaxing ever-so slightly. He’s grateful for the distraction.
