Page 33 of Rhys: and the girl who was always his

I grin. “Especially that part.”

His smile fades slightly, and there’s a pause.

“You seemed off for a minute earlier,” he says. “When we were playing.”

I sigh. “I got a little lightheaded. It passed.”

His brow furrows. “Ally?—"

“I’m fine. I swear. Just a moment.”

He doesn’t look convinced, but he lets it go.

“You know,” he says after a long pause, “it’s getting harder not to touch you in front of them.”

I swallow hard. “They’re starting to notice.”

“I know. I don’t even care if they do.”

I look at him then, really look at him. He means it.

And that scares me in the best possible way.

I bump his shoulder with mine, forcing a smile. “You trying to make a scene in front of everyone?”

“Maybe I am.”

But he doesn’t move. Doesn’t push. Just waits.

And eventually, I lean in.

Just enough.

Enough for him to know I’m not running.

Not today.

Not anymore.

CHAPTERFOURTEEN

RHYS

I’m one wrong move away from unravelling.

Ally’s been pushing every button I have lately—not in the way she usually does, with her sharp tongue and smartass comebacks. No, this is different. This version of her is quieter. Colder.

Fractured. Every time we make progress, I notice something off about her, and she starts pushing me away again. She doesn’t think I see the dizzy spells or when she zones out. But I noticed everything and have started to see the pattern.

It’s like watching someone you love walk straight toward a cliff, refusing to look down. And I’m stuck behind her, arms out, screaming her name, knowing damn well she’s going to fall—and she won’t let me catch her.

I see it in her eyes—the hollow tension beneath her jokes, the way she pretends her balance hasn’t shifted when her whole world’s tilting sideways. She’s running on fumes and stubbornness. And the more I try to get through to her, the more she shuts me out.

I can’t decide if I want to shake her or hold her.

I find her in the kitchen, standing on her toes, trying to grab a bag of chips from the top shelf like she hasn’t been dizzy three times this week. I watch her sway slightly, just enough to make my heart drop straight to the floor.

“Ally,” I snap, already crossing the room. My hands are on her waist before she can even pretend she’s fine. She stiffens but doesn’t push me away.

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