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"I’m sure you can manage on your own." I let the sarcasm drip from my voice but grin to myself. I enjoy our easy banter. Watching as he gets busy with the coffeemaker, it feels comfortable. But at the same time, I’m unsure how to act toward him. The wholelove confessioncomplicates the already arduous situation even more.
Anger and betrayal—that’s my focus.
With his coffee in hand and two freshly toasted waffles from the freezer, Rhys settles down on the barstool next to mine. "So, what are we doing?"
"You’re still helping?" I can’t keep the doubt out of the question.
He eyes me from the side. "I told you I would."
"Yeah, you said that...I just..." I trail off and shift my focus to my half-empty tea.
"I understand you don’t trust me. I kept this from you for ten years and then also treated you like shit for the last two, but I swear, that’s over. It’s you and me against the world again. If you can forgive me...one day."
The last words are spoken quietly. I press my lips together to keep from smiling at the reference to something we used to always say when we were little.
But forgive him?
I ignore the whole part and blurt out, "I don’t want anyone to know." I hadn’t planned on announcing it like that, but it’s out now, so I might as well keep going. "Not yet, anyway. Mom and—" I stop. "I mean, Heather and Tristen..." I trail off again, and my frustration is obvious.
He stares at his half-eaten waffle.
"They may not be your biological parents, and they have kept a lot of secrets from you, but they’ve still raised you for most of your life. They’ve kept you safe, and they love you like their own," Rhys says in a gentle tone.
He’s right, but the betrayal is so overwhelming that I want to scream. I’ve always been a rational and level-headed person; emotions never get the best of me. Even with everything that went down between us, I leaned on the logical side and didn’t let the hurt get the best of me. I ignored it, and then I focused on other things: school, gymnastics, and training with Spence.
But since last night, that’s all out the window. As long as I stay busy, going over my research with Rhys or reading my friends’ social media posts, I can keep a lid on it. But as soon as there is a break, it all rushes back.
I shake my head, and I blow out a huffed breath. "I just feel so confused."
Rhys awkwardly pats my back. "I know. We’ll figure it out. Together."
Together.
That gives me the opening I need to ask the other question swirling around in my head. "What are we? I mean, you said you..." I trail off, feeling weird saying it out loud.
"I love you." He doesn’t hesitate one bit. He’s a whole new person. It’s like this enormous weight is off his shoulders. At that moment, I understand that heisthe old Rhys again. The one before everything went down the crapshoot. Before Tristen told him he can’t be around me if he can’t control his feelings. Before his arrangement with Katherine. He has been living a lie himself. That knowledge almost knocks the air out of me, and I cock my head, looking at him again. I truly see him for the first time in years. The Rhys I used to know is back—myRhys.
Oblivious to my epiphany, he adds, "We are friends...I guess? I won’t even attempt to understand what’s going on in your head, and I’m not going to ask you for anything else. Like we used to be."
Does he mean before theincident, as he’s been calling my kidnapping, or after, when I thought he was my brother and also best friend? I leave his sentence hanging and simply reply, "Thank you."
I glance over and can’t stop myself this time. "I did miss you." Because it’s true; I missed him a lot. Part of me felt lost. Maybe because I never knew why, maybe because he was my best friend for so long, who knows?
He smiles genuinely at me. "Me too, Calla."
Instinctively, I move to hug him, but a voice in my mind reminds me:he lied to you. They all lied to you.And I squash the urge like a bug.
I’m happy there are no more secrets between us, and I understand now why, but I can’t turn off the whisper in my head. If he truly was my best friend, he should’ve told me.
One could say I feel slightly schizophrenic with the emotional back and forth. I’ll probably need years of therapy to understand everything going on inside my head.
After breakfast,we sit back in Lilly’s room, each of us individually reading different articles on our laptops, when a thought comes to mind. "So, if you don’t want anyone to find out, how do we explain us?" I point back and forth between us.
Lilly looks up from her screen with raised eyebrows. "Us?"
"Yeah, I mean, we haven’t talked to each other in years, and all of a sudden, we do? People will notice, especially Mom and Dad."
Her mouth forms a brief O, and she looks toward the other side of the room, debating what I just pointed out. When she turns back, her face, once again, has an unreadable expression. "We won’t talk then. It’s time I have my own secret."
