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“I do love you. I wish you’d have tried to talk to me before now. I have to get on the road soon or I’ll miss my flight,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to my temple. This was my Rhys. In the cottage he was still mine. But as soon as we left the privacy of our home, he became a stranger, and it hurt.
“I tried,” I deadpanned. “You’ve been dodging the conversation for days.”
He choked out a laugh. “I have, haven’t I? I wasn’t trying to. Well, I was, but I never meant to make you think I was avoiding you.”
“Weren’t you?” I gently tossed his words back to him.
He sighed, his warm breath stirring the hair by my ear. “I have to go.”
No was on the tip of my tongue. I wanted to plead with him not to go by himself. Over the last few days, he’d been teetering between catatonic depression and fiery anger. Going to Michigan was a big deal and not something he should be doing on his own. We supported each other. But…I wouldn’t force myself on him. That wasn’t right either. I blamed this on a momentary lapse of judgement.
“I wanted to go with you. Thatcher wanted to go. We’re your friends and you should have people you care about celebrate your successes with you. Especially when there’s so much against us already.”
“Checking out a college is a success?” He quirked a brow, but his eyes had softened.
“It could be. This is a big deal. There’s too much crap trying to hurt us to overlook the good times when we can get them. Going on this trip with you? This is a good time.” I glanced over to see what Jonah was doing. He was perched against the teacher’s desk with his arms crossed, patiently watching us.
I smiled, and he returned it, although they both lacked any real warmth. These were smiles of understanding. We wanted to do right by Rhys, but he had to let us.
“Astrid…If you go, and Thatcher, there will be more photographers, more articles. I can’t protect you from that if you don’t let me.” He kicked the desk closest to him and it slid across the floor, the metal screeching.
"My turn?” Jonah raised his brows.
I nodded. Sure. Why not. Nothing I was saying made a dent in Rhys’ firm convictions anyway.
“What do you think you’re protecting her from?”
“You’re at the top of the class and you’re asking me that?” Rhys tossed a hand out as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing.
Jonah didn’t rise to his bait, he just pushed away from the desk and stepped closer to Rhys. “List the things you need to protect her from.”
Rhys opened and closed his mouth several times. He couldn’t voice his concerns. Turning away from us, he cupped his hands behind his neck and watched students walk across the snow covered yard outside. Everyone was heading toward the parking lot in a hurry to get out of the cold. Today was another brutal day.
When he turned around, his mouth was set in steely determination. “From public ridicule. From forever being memorialized as part of this scandal with my dad. If you think for one second that these articles will just disappear, you’re wrong. That’s not the way it works. The world cares too much about the influential members of society, and when they screw up, the world wants to see them fall. And fall hard. Taking anyone they care about with them.”
Jonah dipped his chin. “Your dad doesn’t care about Astrid.”
“But I do!” He nearly roared. “I’m his only son. I care and so they’ll try to tear her apart.” He scoffed.
“You’re forgetting one very important thing.”
I looked to Jonah, trying to work out for myself where he was going with this.
“And what’s that?” Rhys asked, his face drawn and his eyes tired.
“You didn’t ask what Astrid wanted or cared about. Or me, or Thatcher, or Beck. You just tried to…lightly blame Astrid for her cornering you, all so she could go with you to support you, but pot, meet kettle.” He motioned between Rhys and me.
“Huh?” He furrowed his brow.
“Rhys, man.” He walked forward and clapped him on the back. “You’re trying to force us to sit on the sidelines, to pretend like we don’t know you from a hole in the wall—”
Okay, I snorted. I didn’t mean to, but all I could think about was a glory hole for that one second.
“Just like Astrid, and Thatch if he’s in the parking lot, are trying to force you to let them be there for you. You’re both doing the same idiotic things. You know what you’re not doing?”
Narrowing his gaze on Jonah, Rhys clenched his jaw together. I didn’t bother answering his rhetorical question. One, I knew what he was going to say, and two, he was going to tell us.
“Talking. Having a conversation about what you both want and what you’re willing to compromise on. But what you’re all forgetting to see, or maybe unwilling, is you’re not able to make decisions for each other like that. Like I said, you should have learned from Beck.” He pins Rhys with his gaze, then me.
