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I lose track of time when Rhys suddenly whispers against my hair, "Let’s get out of here."
I pull far enough away to see his face. "Where are we going?"
His gaze settles somewhere over my shoulder, and he shrugs. "I don’t know. Out. I don’t want to be here when Mom and Dad come home."
My breathing instantly doubles. "What if he follows us?"
Rhys stiffens but wraps his arms around me again. "We’ll be careful."
He puts up a front, but anxiety is coming off him in waves. He is as freaked out as I am. Though, I have to agree with him; I don’t want to be here either when Heather and Tristen come home. The whole charade would tumble down faster than the cheerleaders’ pyramid during last year’s homecoming game when Katherine forced the new girl to do back handsprings in the front row, and the poor girl knocked over two of the guys holding everyone up. Needless to say, the whole thing didn’t end pretty.
I’m pulled out of the memory when Rhys stands up and drags me with him by the hand. He doesn’t let go until we reach the garage.
Rhys’s caris inside as usual, and I parked in front of Heather’s spot outside of the garage. Neither of us has to be out in the open for us to leave. Rhys leads me to the passenger side door and waits until I’m settled before walking over to his side. As soon as the dome light is off, he reaches over and interlaces our fingers together again. He hits the garage door button and slowly backs out into the driveway. The street is quiet, but instead of its usual peaceful feel, the hair on my arms stands up, and I’m scanning our surroundings feverishly. Rhys makes sure the garage door is closed before he fully pulls out into the street. He squeezes my hand, never looking away from the road.
We drive for some time,not letting go of each other’s hands. Rhys absentmindedly strokes my hand with his thumb. His fingers are calloused from years of training, but despite the rough texture, the touch is gentle and sends tingles through my body. I relish the feeling of safety it evokes inside of me. We stop at a small café a few towns over. When no other car pulls into the parking lot for ten minutes, we deem it safe and exit the Defender. I pick the table farthest from the windows and door while Rhys get us something to drink. He puts a steaming paper cup of Earl Grey tea in front of me, lid placed on a napkin on the side. Warmth rushes through me like a big wave. He still remembers my quirks.
We don’t talk, both just holding onto our respective cups. I notice Rhys staring at my fingers. His thumb is moving back and forth against his coffee cup like he is still caressing my hand. I ache with the need to feel his touch again and intensify the grip on my tea harder, fighting the urge to reach out to him.
Eventually, Rhys breaks the silence. "Do you want to tell Mom and Dad?"
I look up. His face is deadly serious, but I don’t have to think about my answer. "Not yet." Logically, we should. Any sane person would, but every fiber of my being screams at me that it’s not timeyet.
He nods, lips pressed together as if he is keeping himself from saying something else. I continue, "So far, we only know that he is back, but not what his end game is—besides that he wants me."
Rhys’s posture goes rigid, and he almost crushes the paper cup. Without thinking, I reach over and cover his hands with mine. His eyes dart to my face, and I realize what I’ve done, pulling back immediately. We’re in public.
"I think we should wait and see if he makes contact again. We can tell Heather and Tristen at any point, but I’m not ready yet. They’ll freak out and do God knows what, probably pack up the house and move us in the dead of night." I have to grin at the visualization of that, but then another thought occurs. I add, my tone somber, "And it opens too many other doors I don’t want to deal with."
Rhys immediately understands. "Your parents?"
It still blows my mind how he always seems to read my mind. I nod. "And us."
His expression turns into surprise. Almost like he doesn’t expect there to be anus.
I blush. "Well, once they find out, everything will change. Tristen was very clear in his stance about your feelings for me. What if they make one of us leave? I’m not eighteen yet, so it would be you!" With every word, my breathing gets more ragged, and the thought of Rhys leaving me, voluntarily or not, has me close to hyperventilating. I can’t handle any more changes at this point.
Rhys sees my distress, and after a quick scan of our surroundings, he pries my hand from my cup and interlaces our hands. He angles his body so his back is to the room and our hands are hidden from view.
"I don’t think they would take such drastic measures, but you’re right, there’d definitely be changes." He chuckles, mostly to himself. "They’d probably put a lock on your room—or mine—from the outside."
I try to pull my hand away, but he holds on tight. "Not funny."
That gives me a genuine laugh. "I’m sorry, babe. I’m just trying to lighten the mood a bit. Bad timing."
Babe. There it is again. How can one word already feel so right?
Is that why it hasn’t bothered me the two times he slipped?
Rhys grows serious, and his eyebrows draw together. "I do want you to tell Denielle. I want one of us with you at all times. And I think Wes deserves to know."
"I’ll talk to Den tomorrow. If you think we can trust Wes, tell him." Wes has been a loyal friend for years.
He nods and visibly relaxes.
By the timewe’re back in the car, it’s almost eight, and we drive home in silence, not touching this time. When we pull into the driveway, the first floor is brightly illuminated. They’re home. Rhys opens the garage door but doesn’t pull in. I figure he’s leaving the car outside for some reason and reach for the door. When he keeps his hands on the steering wheel, staring forward, I turn back and look at him questioningly. Without averting his eyes from the front of the house, he whispers, "You and me?"
Huh? It takes me a moment to understand what he is asking. What is he doing? I’m confused but put my hand on his forearm and say with full conviction, "You and me."
