Page 19 of Quiet Longing

Rhys’ fingertips traced down my spine then travelled over the curve of each shoulder blade, his thumbs rubbing in a distractingly soothing motion over the expanse of exposed skin. His warmth and closeness seemed to be everywhere as I momentarily closed my eyes, lost to sensation. I sucked in another sharp breath when his fingers glided over the nape of my neck. His hand stilled for the briefest second before resuming.

I felt every sweep of his fingers across my skin as he quietly rubbed in the cream. Too soon, his touch was gone, and he handed me back the sunscreen bottle just as his phone began vibrating.

Yet again, he pulled it out and glowered, but this time, he didn’t end the call. Instead, he answered, “Yeah?” A silence followed, and I could just about make out a gruff, angry voicetalking to him on the other end. Something squeezed in my stomach. I didn’t like the tone of whoever was talking to him—his father, most likely.

Rhys looked stressed, his profile in relief against the sunny, sandy backdrop of the beach. He ran a hand through his hair. “Look, I’ll be there in half an hour, okay?”

The gruff voice responded with something else before Rhys hung up and let out a weary sigh.

“Everything okay?” I asked, a little worried.

Rhys nodded. “It’s fine.” His expression turned apologetic. “I have to go. Can you let the others know something came up, and I’ll see them later?”

“Sure, of course,” I replied, wanting to ask more questions, offer help if he needed it, but we didn’t know each other that well yet, and I shouldn’t pry.

Rhys packed up his things and stood. “See you, Charli,” he said, seeming regretful to be leaving.

“Yeah, see you,” I replied as he went.

I watched him walk back in the direction where we’d left the car until he slowly disappeared into the crowd, all the while wondering what was going on with his dad and why he’d had to leave so abruptly.

5.

Rhys

My face fuckinghurt.

I was about to start the evening shift, and I just hoped no one noticed the dark bruise shading my jaw. The kitchen was usually so busy few people had time to look my way. Maybe I could get through it without anyone asking questions. The only problem was going back to my aunt and uncle’s house later tonight. One of them was sure to notice, and then I’d have to explain how I was stupid enough to go see my dad.

I stood in the empty staff room at the hotel, shoving a backpack full of clothes into my locker. It barely fit. I’d grabbed as much as I could from my bedroom while Dad shouted and threatened, calling me every ugly name under the sun.

He’d been waiting in the kitchen when I’d gotten home.

In the two days since we’d left, dirty dishes had piled up in the sink, and the bins were overflowing. I’d managed to ignore his calls for the past two days, but he’d threatened to make a missing person’s report on Mam if I didn’t get her to come home. I had no intention of doing that, and I needed to set him straight. Make him understand things weren’t going back to how they were.

“Where the fuck have you been?” he’d grunted when I’d stepped into the room. “And where’s your mother?”

“She’s somewhere safe, but that’s none of your business anymore.”

He’d given a cruel laugh. “Oh, you think you’re the big man now, do ya, Rhys? Any differences between your mam and me are between us. You’re a child playing grown-up. It’s not your place to get involved.”

“I won’t stand by and let you hurt her anymore. That ends now,” I’d said, planting my feet firmly on the floor and folding my arms.

A second later, he’d been in front of me, gripping my shirt as he’d slammed me back against the wall.

I pulled myself from the memory, hating how I’d become a kid again, letting him hit me. Why hadn’t I fought back? I felt weak. All I wanted to do was keep Mam safe from him, and I was barely succeeding at that.

I forced my mind back to earlier in the day when I’d been sitting on the beach with Charli, my palm on the warm, smooth skin of her back. The way her breath had hitched when I’d touched her. I’d never caused that sort of reaction in someone before. I could still smell the coconut sunscreen. It was my new favourite scent.

I was a few hours into my shift when I bumped into Derek and Tristan’s dad, Padraig. He was someone I looked up to. I wanted to be like Padraig Balfe when I was older. I wanted enough money and success so pricks like my dad couldn’t touch me anymore. I wanted safety and a nice life for Mam.

“Rhys,” Padraig said with a note of concern. “Come with me a minute. I’d like a word.”

Knowing there was no point arguing, I nodded and followed him, finally reaching a small office close to the reception lobby. He stepped inside and motioned for me to come in before he closed the door. I stood, waiting, as he went to lean against the edge of the desk, turning to me and folding his arms.

I had a fair idea what he wanted to talk about, which was confirmed when he motioned to my face. “Care to tell me where that came from?”

Instinctively, my hand went to the bruise, an unwelcome reminder of my dad’s fist colliding with my jaw only a few hours ago.

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