Page 23 of Rhys: and the girl who was always his

Footsteps creak behind me.

Of course. Rhys.

“You always rummage through the fridge like you’re expecting to find life’s answers behind the yogurt?”

His voice is teasing, but there’s an edge of something else to it—something quieter. I glance over my shoulder. He’s barefoot, his hoodie hanging loose around his shoulders, and his hair tousled like he’s been tossing and turning instead of sleeping. His eyes are shadowed but sharp like he knows I’m the reason he can’t sleep either.

“Better than standing in doorways being dramatic,” I shoot back.

He steps farther into the kitchen, brushing past me to grab two glasses. “Touché. Want water?”

I nod, and he fills both glasses from the fridge door, handing me one. Our fingers brush, and I feel it—that same charged undercurrent that’s been building for weeks. Maybe years.

We lean against opposite counters, sipping in silence for a beat.

“Couldn’t sleep?” he asks.

“My brain won’t shut off,” I admit. “Too many tabs open.”

He smiles softly. “Yeah. I know the feeling.”

Another quiet stretch. It should feel awkward, but it doesn’t. It feels… loaded. Like we’re both waiting for someone to call “cut” and reset the scene.

“Everything okay with school?” he asks.

I shrug. “It’s fine. Just overwhelming.”

He studies me over the rim of his glass. “And your health?”

I stiffen. “I’m fine.” I know he’s noticed something off about me, but I’m not ready to talk about it.

He doesn’t push. Just nods. “Let me know if it gets worse. Or if you need anything,” he says, confirming he knows.

“You’re not responsible for me, Rhys.”

His jaw tics. “I know I’m not. Doesn’t mean I’m not going to look out for you. You said you were willing to give us a shot. But now you are walking around like I’m a stranger and angry at me.”

My chest tightens. He says it so easily and like it’s obvious.

“Why do you do that?”

He raises a brow. "Do what?"

“Say things like that.”

He looks down, then slowly back up at me. “Because it’s the truth, and I mean it. I care about you, Ally. I want you.”

“I know I promised to give it a shot. The transition from not having you to having you right there is difficult.”

The words hang between us. Raw. Honest. A little broken.

Rhys steps closer, but not enough to close the gap. “Ally?—"

“Don’t,” I mutter. I know if he touches me now, I may break.

He looks like he wants to. Like he wants to grab me and never let me go. But he stops himself.

“You deserve to have what you want,” he says quietly. “We deserve this.”

---