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I keep looking at my phone, and by two a.m., I decide to give up. My anger is under control, but I’m frustrated that Rhys didn’t come home. I can guess where he is—damage control. Which means I shouldn’t be frustrated with him. But he is the only one I can talk to about this, and Iwanthis input. This is our first clue.
Ourclue?
I guess I have to accept that he is in this with me. Even though I was the one kidnapped, manipulated, and lied to, he’s part of this. Always has been, to an extent.
My inner battle is causing havoc inside of me. I don’t want to be dependent on him. Being dependent means he has the ability to let me down, hurt me. But I don’t want to be alone, either. My feelings are getting more jumbled by the day.
I need sleep. I need to shut my brain off for a while. Though, before falling asleep I decide that it’s time to change my approach. No more waiting for more migraines. I’m going to the source.
Rhys won’t be happy with my newfound plan.
Chapter Eleven
Spence pushesmy training session this week to the afternoon. So, instead of being at the gym Saturday morning, I’m in the kitchen, helping Natty with her science project. Helping is actually code for her doing it and explaining it to me in the process. At the moment, she is building a waterwheel out of a cork, a few plastic pieces, a skewer, a funnel, and a two-liter bottle to demonstrate the power of water for her school’s winter science fair. I could be considered biased, but Natty is one of the smartest and kindest humans I’ve ever encountered. She looks like Rhys’s mini-me with her dark-brown hair and green eyes; she even laughs like him.
I always tease her that she’s ten going on thirty-two. When she is not with her two best friends, or at a tap or ballet lesson, she is holed up in her room, studying or with her head in a book. Her favorite books areWuthering HeightsandJane Eyre. How she can read that over and over is beyond me. I tried reading both books once, but I didn’t make it past page fifteen. Natty is more grown up than I am most of the time. She is the last person I ever expect to give Heather or Tristen trouble. She’ll go places one day—that much Rhys and I always agreed on.
Rhys walksin through the garage around noon, lingering by the door. I glance over and see guilt written all over his face. He obviously didn’t plan to stay out all night and mouths, "I’m sorry."
I lightly touch Natty’s arm. "I’ll be right back, okay? I need to talk to Rhys."
Engrossed in her project, she just nods.
Even during the past few years of Rhys and me avoiding each other, we had a silent understanding not to let it interfere with our relationship with Natty. Whenever all three of us were in the same room, which wasn’t often, we were anormalfamily.
Natty won’t think twice about this, but if Heather and Tristen had been here, my statement would’ve immediately attracted attention.
I stand up, walk out of the kitchen, and up the stairs without saying another word. Rhys follows quietly, probably thinking I’ll lay into him as soon as we’re upstairs. I feel sorry for him. As if Katherine isn’t bitchy enough for all the females in Westbridge and surrounding towns—no, make that states. I decided last night that I won’t say anything about himnotcoming home. One, I refuse to look weak and needy, even though I did want him with me—to talk about my find. And second, I’m nothing like Katherine, and I don’t ever want to be. She is an evil bi—uh, witch who needs constant attention and validation. She has been manipulating everyone in school for years, and whoever doesn’t follow her mighty rules will be outcast. I saw it happen a few times, and it was never pretty. One girl even transferred to a private school one town over. I know for a fact that she doesn’t like me, but so far, she hasn’t tried to touch me either. I’m not sure if it’s because of being Rhys’ssisteror because of my own social standing in school. I’m not at the top of Westbridge High’s food chain by any means—that would be Katherine and Rhys with their respective BFFs—but I’m definitely not at the bottom, probably even higher than the middle. I do my own thing, stick to my friends, and try to be polite to everyone, which has worked just fine for me—until now.
It’s beyond me how no one sees how fake she is, which was another reason why it hurt so much two years ago. Rhys replaced our friendship—our bond—withher.
Instead of goingto my room, I walk straight into Rhys’s and close the door as soon as he’s over the threshold.
Eyebrows furrowed, he asks, "Where are Mom and Dad?"
"Lunch with someone from Heather’s firm."
He avoids making eye contact.
I suppress a laugh and get straight to the point. "I’m going to California."
Now his gaze snaps to me. "Wha—? When? What happened?"
"Not sure yet. Soon." I shrug like I just told him I’m going down the street to grab dinner. "We won’t find anything new here. I need to go where it started."
The wheels in his head are turning, and I’m preparing myself for a fight when he says, "When are we leaving?"
He wants to come with me?
"Umm..."
Scanning my stunned face, Rhys chuckles. "Cal, I told you we are doing this together. I’ve known you your entire life, and if you set your mind on something, you won’t change it. You’re more stubborn than a mule, and if someone tries to push you one way, you run the opposite direction as fast as you can—no matter the consequence. So, when are we leaving?"
I’ve gone through every possible argument with him in my head since waking up this morning, and none of them resulted in...this. I was prepared to fight, to yell, and to defend my decision. Anything to not feel weak or dependent. But his simple statement has me tearing up. The cold feeling of betrayal is slowly being replaced by something else. Something I can’t decipher yet. Trust? At that moment, I follow my instinct and wrap my arms around his waist.
"Thank you," I whisper into his chest.
Rhys must’ve expected a different reaction as well because he goes rigid at the physical contact. Though, after a moment, he relaxes and hugs me back, resting his chin on my head, saying, "Always, Cal."
