Page 126 of Unsteady

“And that’s who you should be right now. Not taking care of me, or my brothers or worrying about me. You should bethrivingand showing those scouts why they should pick you. Right?”

I don’t want to agree, but I’ll listen. So I shrug.

Her eyes roll, but I can tell this is getting harder for her. “Rhys, please.”

“What do you want me to say? I’m not going to agree with you. I can do both.”

“You shouldn’t have to.”

“Neither should you!” I finally break. “You should be enjoying your life—not worrying over if you can feed two growing boys or how you’re going to pay bills on a house you don’t even live in all the time. You shouldn’t have to do it at all—but youdefinitelyshouldn’t have to do it alone.”

She sighs, but I can see her soaking in my words, working them through that big brain in her beautiful head.

Please. I want to beg, but I don’t want to be a manipulator. If she wants me, she has towantme.

“I don’t know what to do, Rhys. I just… I need us to slow down okay?”

“We’re not breaking up.”

I don’t even attempt to make it sound like a question. But she shakes her head.

“No. I don’t want to break up. I just… I don’t know. Ican’tlove you how you want me to right now. There’s nothing left in me.”

“Alright,” I agree, because what else can I do? I step to her, hold her face in my hands and let her nuzzle into my palms, eyes closed. “But here’s the deal, Gray. You’re going to let my parents help, okay? My dad will help with the custody and lawyer stuff, my parents and Bennett and Freddy and Rora—and me. We are all helping you, okay? If you need some space and some time, to move a little slower, fine. I’ll give you that. But you will not be alone. Okay?”

“Okay,” she agrees, tears finally falling from her beautiful eyes.

I trace my thumb along the clutter of freckles beneath the corner of her cat-eyes, before kissing her forehead solidly.

“I’ll be here, for whatever you need.”Even if it’s not me.

FORTY-THREE

RHYS

Liam is already grinning, his face pressed against the screen door when I pull up. Just like he has been every time I’ve showed up unannounced.

Her car died on her way home the night before, and Rora called Freddy to get a hold of me at the house to go get her—because she wouldn’t ask for my help.

I’d found her on the side of the street walking home, taking a solid minute to stew in my anger and breathe so that I didn’t make her own anger that covered her fear worse.

I’d calmly stopped my car on the side and walked by her side for a little, just keeping watch over her, until she finally turned towards me. I would’ve walked beside her for miles, but I was glad she gave up the defense sooner rather than later.

She didn’t speak, only sunk her head like a reprimanded child and slunk behind me back to my car. I hated how she was shivering, getting a blanket from the truck of my car—a blanket I’d planned to call our drive-in blanket; big enough for the two of us and her brothers—to wrap her in.

We didn’t speak, but I turned on one of her playlists and let the soothing sounds of Damien Rice echo in the space between us. The space I hated that existed.

But she didn’t push my hand off her thigh as I settled it there like a brand. She sat in the quiet of the cabin of my car until the entire album finished, letting me trace patterns on her hand even as she stared at her darkened childhood home like it was the thing that tortured her each and every day. Like she wanted to burn it down.

Eventually, she got out and I walked her to the door, forcing her inside so I could make sure the heat was on inside, before offering to get the boys from Miss B’s next door myself. Partially so she could rest and stay warm. Mostly, so I could hear from Liam and Oliver exactly how things were going.

So, even if we haven’t spoken about it, she’s right behind her brother now—a gray Waterfell Wolves toque pulled down on her head, thick gray scarf looped so it covers her nearly to her eyes. She’s looking at me, a gentle expression in her eyes. Like she knew I would show. Like she trusts me.

That’s enough.

Oliver looks angrier than I’ve seen him, shuffling past his sister and me so that I don’t really know who he’s mad at most, his hockey bag swinging wildly off his side.

Liam is in another Star Wars costume, but with a thick coat overtop that makes him look like a big stuffed blue marshmallow. Sadie yanks his scrambling body back as he howls at me, shoving a little wool cap on his curls before releasing him into the snow, slamming into my legs in a hug.

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