Page 22 of Rhys: and the girl who was always his

Before I can process that, Chase nudges my arm. “So, what were you two really doing before we crashed your little party?”

I open my mouth, searching for something casual, something that won’t make this worse, but then I shift in my seat and the world tilts.

It’s sudden and disorienting, a wave of dizziness that makes my stomach lurch. Holding the table's edge for support, I blink hard to fight the blur. The bar noise fades to a distant hum, my vision narrowing for a split second before everything snaps back into place. I glance around, my heart pounding, but no one notices.

Except Ashley.

She watches me carefully, her brows drawing together slightly. She doesn’t say anything, but I can feel her eyes on me, assessing, calculating. I force a smile and take a slow sip of my drink, willing my body to behave, not to give away more than I can explain.

“So,” Yasmin says, breaking the moment, and the tension, I’m sure, is carved into my face. “Are we eating or just here to harass these two?”

“Both,” Chase answers easily. “Definitely both.”

“Don’t forget we’re also celebrating,” Arden adds.

“What are we celebrating?” I ask curiously. With Arden, it could be anything.

His eyes flash to Ashley before he speaks. “I was officially cleared. I’m no longer a suspect in Ashley’s dad’s death.”

I’m not surprised. We knew he didn’t do it. We just needed the police to figure it out.

Ashley’s attention lingers on me, a quiet anchor I can’t ignore, but the others launch into their plans for food and drinks, the conversation shifting away from me and Rhys. We’re still the centre of the spectacle but with less intensity.

The group settles in, and I try to focus on the chatter around me, anything to drown out the steady thrum of panic. Menus are divided, quick arguments over what food and drinks to order.

Somehow, I find myself squished between Yasmin and Chase, with Ella perched at the end, the three of them already bantering about how many plates of chips we’ll need.

Across from me, Arden and Ashley have managed to fit chairs between our booth and the next table, which makes Rhys look even less impressed about the invasion. He stares at them with narrowed eyes, like he’s still plotting his escape.

Ashley stays quiet, her eyes catching mine briefly across the table. She doesn’t say anything, but the question from before hangs in the air between us, unspoken but hovering. I force a casual laugh at one of Chase’s jokes, trying to make it sound natural.

Arden and Ella are arguing about what counts as a reasonable amount of cheese, and I take another sip of my drink, the cold liquid barely making a dent in the heat still creeping up my neck. The dizziness has passed, but my heart won’t slow down, no matter how desperately I try to project normalcy. It feels like someone hit the fast-forward button on my internal panic meter.

Finally, when food is ordered, and the others are distracted, Ashley leans in, voice quiet. “You okay?”

I nod quickly, too quickly. “Yeah. Just tired.” It’s flimsy, but it’s all I’ve got.

She doesn’t look convinced. “You sure?”

“Ash,” I say, forcing a lightness into my tone, “I’m fine.”

She studies me for another second before nodding, but I can tell she doesn’t believe me.

And honestly?

I don’t blame her.

Because for the first time, I’m not sure I believe myself either.

Rhys looks at me, his curiosity mingled with something else, something closer to concern.

CHAPTERTEN

ALLY

It’s past midnight when I wander into the kitchen. The house is quiet, the kind of hush that only settles when everyone’s asleep or pretending to be. Warm light from under the cabinets is all that illuminates the kitchen.

I open the fridge, not even sure what I’m looking for. Maybe a snack. Maybe clarity. Maybe just something to ground me.

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