He rammed his fingers against his chest. “This hole that I can’t fill, and I won’t pull you down into it with me.”
“Rhys.”
His thick throat trembled as he smiled. “Goddess Girl. I’m no good. I mess it all up, even when I don’t mean to.”
“You’re wrong.”
Sadness tweaked the corner of his mouth. “Wish I was. Wish I was good enough. Wish my luggage wasn’t so heavy that it can’t even be moved. Most of all, right now, I wish I didn’t want you so damned bad.” With the last, a smirk pulled to the side, though it was sober and soft and filled with regret.
I touched him there, brushed my fingers over that sweet spot. The air thinned and the heat amped and my poor heart bolted and hurtled in an attempt to catch up to his.
“And I wish you’d give in.” I edged in farther so I could whisper in his ear. “I want to jump.”
I wanted to find this boy in his brokenness the same way as he found me in my dreams.
Edging back a fraction, I stared at him, our faces an inch apart.
Lips parted and breaths heaving from our lungs.
Need gathered in that bare space.
Dense. Intense. Desperate.
Rhys reached out and ran his fingertips down the angle of my cheek. “I’d be the luckiest damned bastard alive.”
We rocked. Hesitated. Warred.
Those blue eyes flitted over my face the whole time. Searching. Learning.
“Sweet Siren,” he murmured. “What are you doin’ to me?”
“Begging you for my first kiss.”
I guessed it was the wrong thing to say.
Because those big hands moved to my shoulders and he crushed me against him, only he didn’t kiss me, he held my cheek against his chest. His arms fierce as he hugged me and muttered to the top of my head, “I refuse to steal from you somethin’ you should cherish. Refuse to steal from your beauty. Refuse to steal from your grace. Refuse to hurt you.”
“It’s just a kiss.”
“No, it’s not.”
I let him hold me for a long time because he was right—it wouldn’t be just a kiss.
It would be me and him.
He hugged me.
Fiercely.
Frantically.
When I couldn’t take it any longer, I peeled myself from his body, my smile knowing and sad when I climbed to my feet.
His was an apology.
I couldn’t say anything else as I forced myself to turn and walk out of his room. I moved into the desolate vacancy of mine.
I thought maybe it was the first time I truly felt as if I were missing a part of myself. Like something had gotten lost. Because I’d found a piece that matched, and now that I knew the distinct shape of it, where it fit, I felt the void of it like a wound.
I climbed into bed.
Only I tossed.
Tossed and turned while the hours passed.
Tonight, the nightmares eluded me. I guessed it was because I’d become a prisoner to Rhys’. The man’s spirit groaning from the depths of sleep from the room next door.
Torment.
Misery.
Finally, when the pressure became too great, I climbed from bed and padded over to my desk where I flipped on the small lamp. I dug into the drawer and found a piece of plain white paper, and I began to fold and fashion. The same way as I’d done with that duck. The tiny shape was crude and choppy, but I didn’t care, and when I had it finished, I flipped it over and printed the words in tiny letters.
Then I stole into the darkness of his room.
To where he writhed and moaned on his bed.
For a moment, I stared down at him, unsure how to reach him, but knowing for certain that in some way, I was already touching him.
That there was something between us.
I tucked the small design into his hand, pressed my mouth to his sweaty temple, and I breathed out my peace.
My wishes.
My love.
Then I forced myself to leave.
Nineteen
Rhys
Nine Years Old
“Now you be careful, and don’t touch anythin’ up there,” Rhys’ daddy rumbled where he was focused on working on the front axle, barely payin’ Rhys any mind.
“I know, I know,” Rhys told him, climbing up the big tractor and into the cab, wishing his daddy would hurry up and get done so he could go over to Richard’s.
It was summer, and they had no school, and since it was super hot, Richard’s mama was gonna take ’em to the pool over by the library once Rhys got back.
Rhys couldn’t wait.
Inside the cab, there were all kinds of buttons and knobs. A spot for a drink since the workers had to be in the field all day.
Rhys plopped down onto the cracked seat, kinda bouncing on it, glancing around at all the knobs and dials and wondering if some day he would drive one or if maybe he’d work on it like his daddy.