Page 100 of Rhys: and the girl who was always his

I nod. “Yeah. But it’s going to be messy.”

He rests his chin on my shoulder. “Most worth-it things are.”

His comment makes me think about how far we’ve come.

How, just a few months ago, I was packing a bag in silence, disappearing to Smalls’s place because my heart couldn’t take any more noise. Because I thought I was broken, and I couldn’t ask someone like Rhys to choose me when I wasn’t whole.

But he chose me anyway.

Every damn time.

Even when I was hard to love. Even when I was scared to be loved.

And now?

Now I live in his room. Now we share a toothbrush holder and, a shoe rack, and a playlist. Now I fight with him about cereal brands and hogging the blankets, and whether or not to alphabetise our bookshelf (we should).

We’re not perfect. But we’re real.

And for the first time in my life, I trust that real is enough.

Inside, the front door opens.

“They’re here!” Yasmin calls.

Chase groans. “Please tell me that doesn’t mean more people.”

“It means Millie and Hayden are moving out next week, you dumbass. Your mum and my dad are here to help them pack,” she fires back.

“Oh. Right. Yay!” Chase says a little too excited. We don’t mind having them here, but it’s been hard on all of us. Not just the tension between Millie and Hayden but having a baby in the house.

Arden appears in the doorway, already grinning. “They’re going to be living next to Mumma Nat and David. House is all ready.”

Ella perks up. “Wait, the house next door to theirs? I thought that one was being renovated.”

“It was,” Arden says. “I bought it. Told Millie it was hers if she wanted it.”

Rhys whistles. “Look at you. Local hero.” We joke, but this is what Arden does; it’s how he shows his family that he loves them. He makes sure we don’t want for anything.

Arden shrugs, but there’s a softness in his eyes I don’t usually see. “They deserve space. And help.”

I lean into Rhys, murmuring, “What would we do without Arden?”

“Don’t let him hear you say that. It’ll go to his head.”

The sun has dipped lower now, casting warm orange streaks across the backyard. Someone turns the music up. Chase starts dancing like he’s possessed. Yasmin throws a shoe at him. Ella laughs so hard she snorts.

It’s chaos. It’s comfort. It’shome.

I reach down and lace my fingers with Rhys’s.

“Do you ever think about that day?” I ask.

“Which one?”

“The hallway. When we were fourteen.” I let the memory crash through me.

He goes still.

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