I look back at Den. "Oh, um..."Think, damn it."Uh, Mom wanted me to tell him something because she missed him this morning."
Missed him?Jesus, I need to shut up. Denielle is fully aware that Rhys doesn’t sleep at home, but thankfully, she ignores that fact. Instead, she narrows her eyes at me. "Why doesn’t she just text him?"
Crap.
I don’t think I can dig my hole any deeper. I set myself up for that one. I shrug and ask, "So, when is Charlie coming home again?"
She barks out a laugh. "Dude, you suck at this," she says but lets it go. "Next week. He says he has a surprise for me."
And with that, we speculate the rest of the day what it could be.
For the remainderof my classes, I debate if I should text Rhys to see where he is. We didn’t talk about staying in touch when we’re not at home, but I kind ofwantto know. He is finally back in my life.
Then, the voice in my head reminds me:He lied to you. If you let him back in, he could hurt you again.It works until I check my phone again—still no message from him.
The anger and betrayal keep me going, but Rhys grounds me in a way that I can’t explain. I need both to stay in control, and I don’t like it. As if I don’t already have enough conflicting feelings, it’s like a tug of war for sanity in my head.
I sitin the Jeep and pull out my phone. The voice screams at me to stop and put the phone away. I hesitate one more time. Screw it. Scrolling through my contacts, I realize I still have the picture of Rhys from our last family trip as his profile picture; a smile tucks on my lips at the memory. I haven’t had a reason to text or call him in so long that I had forgotten about it.
We were at the Grand Canyon, and he made me take picture after picture, trying to capture himself jumping in the air with the Grand Canyon as the backdrop. We did get the shot eventually, but his profile picture is one of the outtakes. He jumped, realized he miscalculated, tripped during the landing, and spread-eagled on his stomach in the dirt. I took the picture right after he pushed himself into a sitting position and was flipping me off for laughing so hard that I had tears running down my face.
Selecting the text option from his contact, I start typing.
Haven’t seen u all day.
I hit send. Okay, I’ve done my sisterly—uh, friendly—duty.
God, what a cluster fuck.
I put my phone away and drive to Butler’s. I have gymnastics practice every day this week, which will hopefully keep me distracted. But despite all the physical activity, I’m already looking forward to Saturday when I meet with Spencer. He promised we would start incorporating some new moves, and I could use that type of training for my emotional state.
After practice,I check my cell and see a response from Rhys.
@Georgetown with Kat & Wes. Back later 2NTE. Everything ok?
My jaw clenches as a pang of annoyance hits me. This past weekend has altered both our lives in ways no one else could ever relate to, and him going back to his old habit of not talking to me is...frustrating? Disappointing? I have no idea how to categorize this. But then, why would Rhys tell me? I insisted we keep going as before. Plus, I don’t want to fall back into my old habit of depending on him. I can’t. Why would I expect something different fromhim? I start typing a response and then think better of it. Before saying something I may regret, I pocket my phone and head home. Our relationship is so complicated, and with everything else, I need to focus on myself and what happened to me. He says he’s helping me, but until I know the truth of what happened ten years ago, do I really want to let someone else in? Even if it’s Rhys?
I’m sitting in bed,re-reading some articles, when I hear a soft knock on my door, and Rhys comes in. My eyes widen. Heather and Tristen are home.
What the hell is he doing?
I try to glance around him to make sure no one sees him.
"Mom and Dad already went upstairs, and Natty is sleeping," he says while closing the door quietly.
Him being home by itself would raise questions, but I just nod, not sure what to say. I’m still annoyed with him and, at the same time, mad at myself for caring. I really don’t need to add any more irrational feelings to my already confused mental state.
Rhys hesitates for a moment by the door before walking toward my bed and sitting down on the edge. "You didn’t respond. Everything okay?"
"Yeah, all good."
He arches an eyebrow. Of course, he knows it’s not all good. I grind my teeth.
"You’re mad at me." Not a question, but a statement.
"No, yes, no—gah! I don’t know." I throw my hands up. I. Don’t. Want. To. Care.
But you do,the voice whispers in my head.