Page 12 of Painted

Rhys set some preseasoned chicken on the table and finished the thought with, “Be yourself and you have to go.”

“Yeah,” Early said, sounding miserable.

They looked miserable, too. Their eyes were downcast, and a large strand of their dark hair had pulled free from their ponytailand hung across their cheek. Their shoulders were hunched on top of that. It was a complete contrast to the way they had been toward the end of the live model class.

Rhys sucked in a breath and forced himself to look away, to concentrate on turning on the oven and finding the right pots and pans to make supper with. Two minutes in, and already he was questioning his decision to take Early under his wing. He should have thought about it first, should have taken them up to Rebecca’s flat and called her to tell her to come home.

That wouldn’t have been fair to Rebecca, he argued as he unwrapped the chicken and put it in a pan. His parents were busy as well. Nick was probably up to his eyeballs with Jordan and Macy, Rafe and Ryan were still abroad, and Nally was in London at a concert that night. There was a chance Robbie and Toby could take them in, but those two had been like rabbits, now that they’d moved in together, and there was no way Rhys wanted to risk interrupting something he didn’t want to know about. He was the only one with the ability to step in and take charge.

“Good on you for standing your ground and refusing to be someone you’re not,” Rhys said with a smile once he’d gathered his sense enough to turn back to Rhys without letting his emotions get away from him. “It takes a lot of courage to stand up against what your family expects of you.”

Early straightened, as if the statement surprised them. “But your family is so awesome,” they said. “I bet you’ve never had to stand up against them for anything.”

Rhys laughed. “I’ve had to stand up against them all the time,” he said. “In case you hadn’t noticed, the Hawthornes are a little weird. Raina always used to say?—”

He stopped as grief pinched him unexpectedly, using the excuse of turning back to the meal prep to hide his face from Early.

“I think you’re all wonderful,” Early said, adoration in their voice.

Rhys winced, hoping Early couldn’t see him. That was another problem. He knew Early had a crush on him and that they were pretty inexperienced with the world. He absolutely could not take advantage of that.

“Everyone’s family looks different from the outside than it does on the inside,” he said as he finished filling a pot with water, then setting it on the stove so he could boil some broccoli. He glanced back at Early and added, “There’s always good and bad with everything.”

Early shrugged, already looking better, calmer. “I feel safe here, with you.”

They sucked in a breath a moment later, their face flushing all over again.

“I mean, with the Hawthorne family. This has always been my safe space, the place where I know I can be myself. Not that I really know who I am. I’m still guessing, still experimenting and trying to figure it out. Maybe my dad is right and it’s just a phase that I’ll grow out of. At least I feel like I can work on myself here without anyone judging me. That’s okay, isn’t it? Is it okay?”

Rhys’s heart went out to the young person. So much that it consumed him.

“Yeah, it’s alright,” he said, moving away from the hob for a moment. He crouched beside Early’s chair and took one of their hands. “You can stay here as long as you need to, Early. I’ll make up the sofa so you can sleep here tonight. You never have to worry about having a place to stay, ever. Okay?”

Early let out a breath and twisted their hand so that they could grip tightly to Rhys’s hand. “I’m so lucky to have you,” they said, eyes shining. “I mean, all of you. The Hawthorne family. I’m so, so lucky to have you in my life. A lot of people like me end up on the street when their parents kick them out like this.”

Rhys swallowed hard. Early was right, and it chilled him. Just the idea that Early might have ended up on the street, fending for themself and doing God knew what just to survive hurt him and made him want to do whatever he could to protect them.

“You’re safe with me,” he said, gazing deeply into Early’s eyes. “I’m not going to let anything bad happen to you.”

Early broke into a relieved smile. “I know. Thank you, Rhys. You have no idea how much it means to me.”

Rhys was impressed. There was a degree of maturity in Early’s eyes that he hadn’t noticed before. Maybe Early was more capable than he’d imagined them to be.

As if hearing that thought, Early said, “I can help make supper, if you’d like. I’m actually a really good cook.”

“No, that’s okay,” Rhys said, standing and brushing a hand over the side of Early’s face before he thought much about it.

The simple, intimate gesture had every molecule in the air between them vibrating with promise for a moment. Rhys had to turn away to diffuse the sudden sexual energy in the air.

“I’ve got this one,” he said, stepping back over to the hob. “You can make it up to me later.”

Although as soon as he said that, he wondered if the words were wise. Judging by the way Early tended to look at him, making it up to him could put them in dangerous territory.

FOUR

Supper with Rhyswas absolutely wonderful. The food was good, the conversation was interesting, and throughout the entire thing, Early felt as if Rhys was interested in them and respected them and their choices. He’d praised Early a second time for having the courage to leave their parents’ house rather than give up who they were—although the way Early saw it, they didn’t really know who they were, and their parents had strongly hinted that they wanted them to leave rather than stay and conform.

The entire evening was like some sort of dream of safety and domesticity, where Early had the object of their desire taking care of them and making certain they felt good. They’d watched some telly together after supper, talked a little more, then Rhys had fetched spare blankets and a pillow to make the couch into a bed.

---