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I nod and turn back to my suitcase. Aunt T is Tristen’s older sister, Teresa, and once she starts talking, it’ll be hours before Heather or Tristen can get off the phone. I have one pile of clothes I need for the fake ski trip, just in case Heather or Tristen end up checking my luggage or closet and find my ski gear there, and one pile that I actually plan to wear. I stash the ski clothes on top of the less-insulated outfits and turn back to Rhys.
He is leaning against the door, watching me.
I raise my eyebrows, waiting.
Taking a step away from the door, he pulls a small square, purple box out of his back pocket. The ribbon—in the same color as the box—is slightly smashed from where it was stashed.
"What is this?"
He hands it over. "Open it."
He is careful not to show any emotion, but for a fraction of a second, I see the eagerness in his eyes. My palms suddenly begin to sweat. Glancing between Rhys and the small box one last time, I pull on the ribbon. When I lift the lid, I find a tiny purple pouch nestled inside. I don’t dare to glance up. Shaking the contents of the pouch into my palm, it’s a small silver bracelet with a thin bar in the middle of a dainty chain. At closer inspection, I notice that it has coordinates engraved in it. This time I do raise my eyes back up and wait for Rhys to explain.
"They’re the coordinates of the house you grew up in. I wanted you to be able to have something from your past, even if you don’t remember it." With a cheeky grin, he adds, "Merry Christmas, Cal."
I’m speechless. I wipe away the tear that’s running down my cheek. This is by far the best gift he could’ve given me, and with that, another layer of the wall is gone. He either knows what he is doing, or I have completely misjudged him.
A hiccupped laugh bubbles up. "I—I don’t know what to say. Now my gift doesn’t feel very original. Thank you so much."
"You got me a present?" Rhys says it so softly that it’s barely audible.
"Uh, well...yeah. You got me something."
He just shrugs, staring at his feet, and I take that as my cue to head into my closet to retrieve the gift bag I hid between my winter and rain boots.
When Rhys pulls out the quick wraps his entire face lights up. "No way! I’ve been looking at these. This is fucking awesome, Cal! How did you know?"
I blush at his excitement. I didn’t think they would be that special. "I, uh, saw them when I was buying new shin guards and thought of you. Spence told me once you complained about your old wraps. They’re supposed to be one of the best," I babble.
Rhys grins from ear to ear. "They are!" With one step, he’s across the room and has me in a bear hug. "Thanks, Cal!"
It feels natural to return the embrace, and for a moment, we’re just us again. Rhys and Lilly. No secrets. No lies.No baggage.
It’s almostdark when we put the last of our bags into Rhys’s car. The street is quiet, and I scan the other houses while I wait for Rhys. Lights are on in about half of them. In some, you can see the Christmas tree in the window, and it gives the entire street a peaceful feel.
Rhys parked in the driveway so I could move the Jeep into the garage and it wouldn’t be outside while we’re gone. Rhys’s car is the one that usually needs safekeeping. No one cares how my car withstands the weather. I get it, though. I would probably tuck my car in every night and sing it a lullaby if the roles were reversed.
Rhys maneuvers another one of the bags around when I say, "I still can’t believe Tristen gave you his baby for your birthday. I admit I was a bit jealous."
Rhys is finally satisfied with the luggage arrangement in the back and turns toward me. One would think he is playing a real-life version of Jenga instead of loading the car.
He winks. "You got your dream car for your sixteenth birthday. I had to wait a lot longer."
"Well,mydream car didn’t cost a small fortune," I shoot back, smiling. "You can’t compare the two. The Defender was Tristen’s babylongbefore you came along."
That gets me a chuckle.
"Ha, very true. I was actually saving for a used Bronco when Dad came up with that idea."
"I think it’s great. She suits you." Rhys’s Defender is a girl, you see. However, I’ve never askedhowhe determined that. "With the eight-cylinder engine and four-wheel drive, you just run over everything in your way, exactly like in every other part of your life."
I genuinely enjoy that we can banter again like we used to. The small voice in my head that has continuously reminded me of Rhys’s part in the betrayal has lessened. It still perks up, but not as frequently anymore.
His eyes crinkle, and he bumps my shoulder. "No wonder guys are scared of you. You know your cars, you’re a black belt, and you can hit your mark with Dad’s .45 better than anyone I know—including me."
Now I roll my eyes, but my cheeks heat, nonetheless. His compliment makes me self-conscious. I don’t think I’m anything special; I like what I like. And that includes gymnastics, martial arts, cars, and being on the range.
I don’t want him to see how his words affect me, so I just return the shoulder bump, saying, "Whatever," and walk into the house without turning back.
