Page 78 of Rhys: and the girl who was always his

I want to make it feel like it. I want to build a world around her where safety isn’t just a word—it’s a feeling that wraps around her like a blanket. But I don’t say any of that. I just sit there, letting our breaths sync.

“You don’t have to pretend with me,” I say, the words falling between us like a promise.

She shifts slightly, sitting up just enough to meet my eyes. “I know. I just… I hate being the broken one.”

God, that word. Broken.

It rattles around in my chest like a bullet.

“You’re not broken,” I say, and it comes out harder than I meant it to.

Her eyes widen, glossy with the kind of tears she doesn’t want me to see.

“What if I always need help? What if I can never drive again? What if I can’t have a normal life?”

“Then we adjust,” I say, my voice steadier than I feel. “We change the definition of normal.”

She lets out a shaky laugh. “You make it sound so simple.”

“It’s not. But it’s worth it.You’reworth it.” I mean every word. She is worth it, and I’ll remind her of that any chance I get.

She leans into me, her head resting against my shoulder, and I wrap my arm around her like I can shield her from the world with just my body.

She sighs again, deeper this time like she’s letting go of something heavy. Like maybe—just maybe—she’s starting to believe me.

* * *

After I finish my workout in the gym, I come back into the house, and it feels full in a way that doesn’t overwhelm. Everyone’s doing their own thing—Ella and Arden are probably off somewhere bickering and flirting in equal measure. Yasmin and Chase are in the living room, mid-movie marathon. It’s everything that makes a house feel like a home.

I find Ally in her room. The door cracked open just enough to see her sitting cross-legged on her bed. A notebook rests in her lap, and she’s tapping a pen against her knee in that same rhythmic pattern she always does when she’s trying to drown out her thoughts.

“Studying?” I ask, stepping inside.

She shakes her head. “Journaling. Caleb said it might help.”

“Is it?”

“Maybe. A little.”

I sit down beside her. She doesn’t move away. Another small win.

“Can I read it?”

She smirks, eyes flickering with the faintest hint of mischief. “Absolutely not.”

“Didn’t think so.”

She closes the notebook gently like it holds fragile things inside. Secrets she’s not ready to speak aloud.

“What are you doing in here?” she asks, her voice softer now.

“Avoiding Chase’s movie commentary. And looking for you. Because you’ve been hiding from everyone since you got home.”

“I haven’t been hiding.”

I raise an eyebrow.

“Okay. Maybe a little.”

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