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She remains still. "The canopy is white. It matches the bedding. But the bedding also has patterns on it—butterflies, I think, in different colors."
I wait for her to continue; my thumb strokes the knuckles of her hand.
"The bunny sits on an armchair. It’s also white, with pale-green cushions. It’s one of those bergère chairs. Everything in the room looks antique, but it’s not...old." She opens her eyes. "Does that make sense?"
I think for a second. "Yeah, I guess. The furniture or room was probably made to look antique. Like a specific style or theme."
Lilly nods and straightens, pulling her hand away from me. The loss of contact hits me more than I would’ve expected. She’s immediately distant. Is she purposefully putting space between us?
I ignore it and say, "You did good. You were in a nice and well-furnished room. Whoever it was wanted you to be comfortable."
She snorts and gives me a"Yeah, right"look.
I hold up my hands. "Let me finish my train of thought for a sec. Whoever it was didn’t just take you and toss you in a cell or locked room. He wasn’t a child molester, and he didn’t lay a hand on you otherwise. This was planned and had a reason. Now, we have to figure out what that reason was."
"I don’t know if that makes me feel better or worse," she huffs.
We keep throwing ideas back and forth, but none really make sense. Why did this person choose Lilly, and why is she the one he still wants?
I peer at the clock and realize it’s already four in the afternoon. Reality comes crashing back, and I almost beg her to tell Mom and Dad just so this torturous charade can finally be over. I don’t want to leave. But instead, I force myself to sound nonchalant as I say, "They’ll be home soon. I should probably head out. Otherwise, they’ll know right away that something is up."
Lilly nods, and her face falls slightly. She composes herself quickly, but not before I see the change in her. "Okay, yeah, you’re right. Where are you going?"
"Wes’s."
She pauses and then asks, "What about Katherine?"
Good point.
I haven’t talked to her since I hung up last night, and not hearing from her means I’m on her shit list. But that’s none of Lilly’s concern. "She’s probably shopping for Christmas presents somewhere."
She just nods at me, and I squeeze her shoulder on my way out.
Chapter Nine
When Rhys takes my hand,the touch startles me, yet I hold on like a lifeline. The emotional turmoil instantly fades away, and I’m able to stay in control, concentrate on the task at hand. It’s almost as if he...anchorsme?
The soothing motion across my knuckles calms the anxiety that had started to rise to the surface as soon as I thought about the room. But when I open my eyes, my first thought is he knew this happened to me, and he didn’t say a word for ten years! I pull my hand away, and for a fraction of a second, hurt flares in his eyes. Having perfected not letting anyone see hisrealface, he smoothes his features and immediately pretends like nothing happened. But Ididsee it.
The restof the afternoon is easier. We stay busy, and I get comfortable being around him. I don’t have time to think any further than the case and searching for answers.
So, when he leaves later, I’m surprised about the feeling of loss settling inside of me. It’s been only twenty-four hours, and I shouldn’t just fall back into our old relationship. Scratch that, I can’t go back to that—since he’s not my brother. But even as friends, he kept my past from me, for goodness’ sake. I can’t just ignore that. I don’t like how I’m already used to him being around. It opens me up to get hurt, and I refuse to let that happen. I force the anger to rise back to the surface, and instantly feel more in control.
Heather and Tristencome home around five-thirty. In my head, I call them by their first name, even though Rhys is right and they are my parents, blood relation or not. It’s self-preservation. I need to figure out what really happened to me, and for that, I need distance. I can’t let them distract me with their love for me.
I spend some time downstairs. They tell me about their trip, and Natty is chatting about her weekend with Olivia and their friend Adelyn, who also slept over. I smile and nod when appropriate and then excuse myself under the pretense of finishing homework. I’m drained. Getting a slight glimpse into Rhys’s life, I’m starting to understand why he’d rather stay away. Keeping up a façade is exhausting.
I sleep better than I have in the last few weeks, but not as good as the night before. I’m restless. I haven’t seen Rhys since he left this afternoon.
Monday morning,I automatically search for Rhys’s Defender in the school parking lot but don’t see it anywhere. That’s strange, he usually is here early for some sort of practice—wrestling, football, whatever is going on at the time.
I don’t see him all morning or during lunch. Without thinking, I ask Denielle, "Have you seen Rhys today?"
Den looks at me like I sprouted a third eye and sneers, "Why?"
Dumb, dumb, dumb.
I haven’t asked her that in years. We have a silent agreement to ignore everything involving Rhys, ever since the day she found me crying in a girls’ bathroom stall. The week before, Rhys had started to call me Lilly, but I kept telling myself he was just distracted. Then, during one of my first days at WH, I had run up to Rhys, excited to tell him something, and he completely brushed me off. As I was walking away, I heard him laughing and making a comment to his friend, Kellen Jager, about how his life is over now that his littlepestof a sister is here. That was also the day I officially stopped talking to him.
