Page 11 of Painted

But so help him, if that meant cooing and sighing and pretending the woman who had had too many at the pub and then got behind the wheel of a car, robbing him of his sister forever, was glorified in any way, he was out.

“Your mother and I were the ones who invited Mr. Flint to come here tonight to discuss the idea,” Rhys’s dad added, evidently sensing Rhys’s resistance.

“Martin, please,” Flint said with a hesitant smile.

“And you can call us Janice and Robert,” Rhys’s mum returned the courtesy with a smile.

“Why don’t we head up to our flat so we can discuss everything,” Rhys’s dad went on. “Janice is an excellent chef, and she’s prepared the most delicious vegan lasagna you’ve ever tasted.”

“Your flat?” Flint blinked.

“Yes. Hawthorne House has been through so many renovations and remodelings that Robert’s ancestors are probably turning over in their graves,” Rhys’s mum explained as they started walking away. “The house served as a convalescent hospital after The Great War, then was converted into a school for the better part of the rest of the twentieth century. When the school folded, it was returned to the family. Robert and I had a gaggle of children at that point, not to mention Robert’s brother being extremely fruitful and multiplying, that we converted the entire east wing into a dozen flats for family members to live in as they so choose.”

Rhys felt glued to the floor as he watched his parents walk away with someone who his instinct considered the enemy. He wanted to call after them, to order them to stop and reconsider what they were doing. He wanted to march after them, grab Flint’s arm and…and what? It wasn’t his fault that his sister had been fatally irresponsible.

He had just about made up his mind to take the mature path and ask to join his parents for supper when Early’s quiet, plaintive call of, “Rhys?” had him whipping back to the door.

Everything within Rhys changed in an instant, and the anger of grief that he’d felt moments before flashed to an entirely different sort of anger when he saw the state Early was in.

On the surface, Early looked exactly like they had that morning. They wore the same clothes and had their hair up inthe ponytail they’d worn when Rhys had fleetingly seen them that afternoon. They wore an overcoat as well, but it was their expression that had Rhys turning and striding back towards the door, like Early was falling and needed someone to catch them.

“What is it?” he asked. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” Early breathed out, pale and shaky. “Yeah, I’m?—”

They stopped, and their face crumbled into a look of abject misery.

“Hey, hey,” Rhys said, closing the remaining distance between the two of them and throwing his arms around Early. It was a gesture that felt as dangerous to him as it felt necessary. “What happened? Is it your parents?”

Early made a sound of strangled grief, like they were fighting to keep it together, and plastered themself against Rhys’s much bigger body. They nodded, and squeaked out, “Yeah.”

Apparently, it was his night for all the emotions, and none of them good.

“Come on,” he said, shifting to keep one arm around Early’s shoulders while walking them forward. “Have you eaten yet? I was just about to make supper. You can come up to my flat and tell me everything and I’ll feed you.”

Correction. Almost none of his emotions were good. A little part of him felt powerful and satisfied that he’d been the one Early had come to when they were in trouble.

Then again, he’d been the one standing in the front hall, so maybe it was just coincidence.

Fuck that. He was the one available to take care of Early and find out what went wrong, and that was all that mattered.

“Wanna tell me about it?” he asked as they started down the family corridor, then up the stairs to the first floor, where his flat was.

Early sniffed like they’d been crying, then breathed loudly a few times, like they were trying to stop. “There’s not much to it,” they said. “My mum found?—”

They stopped abruptly, and Rhys could have sworn he felt the heat of their blush as well as just seeing it splash wildly across their face.

“They found?” Rhys prompted them. When they didn’t continue, Rhys went on with, “Something you didn’t need them to see.”

Early nodded as they reached the door to Rhys’s flat. “Ireallydidn’t need them to see,” they said, giving a lot of emotion to the words.”

Rhys hummed as he unlocked his door, then opened it and gestured for Early to enter.

He was glad he kept the place more or less tidy. He’d been a slob as a teenager. Raina had always complained about his messy habits. There was probably something significant to the fact that ever since the accident, he’d felt compelled to keep his flat neat, but that was damage to worry about some other day.

“So your parents found something they didn’t like and, I assume, kicked you out?” Rhys asked, leading Early over to the kitchen and gesturing for them to have a seat at the table while he checked the fridge to see what he could make for the two of them to eat.

“More or less,” Early said, their voice so small and fragile, despite being just a touch deep. “It was more like an ultimatum. Cut my hair, start dressing and acting like a boy, and being who they want me to be and I can stay.”

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