Rhys rummages through my cabinets and pulls down my favorite oatmeal. “Something starchy in your stomach would be good.”
He moves around my kitchen like he’s done it a thousand times, barefoot, adept, and utterly at home.
The way I move around his place.
I sink onto a stool, dazed, watching his back flex as he tears open a package and pours it into a bowl.
“Are you having some?” I ask him.
After a gentle sniff, he says, “Sure.”
“Unless you have somewhere you need to be.”
“I don’t need to be anywhere but right here, Fallon.” He lights up the kettle and snags a banana hanging on a hook,then cuts slices for my breakfast.
Watching the clean efficiency of him, the way he’s taking care of me when he doesn’t have to, hurts my heart a little.
In a dangerous way. Do I deserve this? I sort of cornered him into spending all this time with me.
That sets off a spiral I’m not expecting. I inhale deeply and deal with it silently. But it’s a strong one generated by a spectacular surge of guilt. Rhys Quinlan has better things to do. Everything about him is precise and planned. A man like that doesn’t accidentally sleep on a sofa nursing a sick girl back to health.
“Hey, what’s wrong?” He brings the perfectly prepared oatmeal to me with a spoon and a scowl. “Your face looks like it’s melting off your skull.”
A visual he’s seen before, obviously. “You can go. I know I forced you to be here.”
“You didn’t force me to do anything.” He folds his arms. “You practically slammed the door in my face yesterday.”
“You’re busy.” I swallow. “You’re always busy. It’s why we never…”
“Fallon, I’ve been a lousy boyfriend. I’m sorry. I will make more time for you from now on. I promise.”
A knock on my door stills me, and Rhys stands there looking at it.
“Did the guard desk call you that someone was on their way up?” he asks.
“No.” I exhale.
“Hmmm.” He grabs his gun and saunters to the door to look out the peephole. “It’s a man.”
“Oh no…” I sit down. “Kosta… Did he break out of jail?”
“I hope so, because if that’s him out there, I’m going to send him straight to hell.”
Chapter 27
Rhys
My chest tightens as I think of the excuses I’ll make for what I’m about to do. I swing open the door. Not what I expected, to be honest. The guy is short, mid-twenties. Dark hair under a hat, wearing a blue jacket. What is about to get him a punch in the teeth is the stupid grin lingering on his mouth.
Something feral detonates inside me.
I’m on him before a sane thought can catch up in my brain. My fist twists in his jacket, and I slam him against the wall hard enough for the fancy artwork in the corridors to rattle from the impact.
“What the hell, man?” he wheezes, eyes wide.
“You stay away from my girlfriend,” I snarl with the tone I reserve for men who will eventually disappear.
“I’m just a delivery guy,” he says, stuttering.
