Page 86 of Rhys: and the girl who was always his

I press a kiss to the top of her head, breathing her in.

“Morning, baby,” I murmur, my voice hoarse with sleep and something gentler.

She hums, nuzzling deeper into my chest, her smile lazy and real. “Five more minutes.”

I laugh softly, the sound low in my throat. “You can have forever if you want.”

Her only reply is a contented sigh, one leg sliding between mine like she wants to sink even deeper into me.

I could stay like this forever.

Wrapped in quiet. In her.

But the world doesn’t stay quiet for long.

A loud knock rattles the door, followed by Chase’s voice, far too chipper for the hour. “Hey, lovebirds, get dressed. You’re gonna want to see this.”

Ally groans into my chest, her body stretching like a cat beneath the covers. She lifts her head just enough to shoot me a look—one of those half-amused, half-murderous glares that saythis better be worth it.

I grin, reaching for the sweats crumpled at the end of the bed. “Come on, let’s go see what fresh chaos awaits.”

She rolls her eyes, then tugs my hoodie over her head. It’s massive on her. She drowns in it—and somehow still looks like she owns every damn room she walks into.

I follow her out of the bedroom and into the hum of the house.

The living room is already alive with quiet chatter and shifting energy. Everyone’s here—Yasmin curled into the arm of the couch, Chase leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. And in the middle of it all—Hayden.

He’s standing next to the couch, holding his son.

Reallyholdinghim. Not like he’s a burden, not like he’s glass. Just… holding him.

His hands are cradled gently around his tiny form, his posture cautious but steady. The tension that’s been radiating from him like smoke for days is still there, but it’s muted now.

Contained.

Controlled.

And in his eyes—there’s something new.

Something likewonder.

Millie watches from nearby, her expression a delicate balance of hope and caution. Like she wants to believe this is a turning point, but she’s afraid to lean too hard into it. Afraid it’ll vanish if she looks too closely.

Hayden looks down at his son, his thumb brushing lightly over his blanket. His jaw clenches, but there’s no anger in it. Just emotion. A kind of reverence I wasn’t sure he had in him.

Ally nudges me gently, her smile crooked. “Told you he’d get there.”

I don’t answer right away. My throat tightens as I look at my brother—this boy who’s spent the last few weeks unravelling right in front of us. I’ve been bracing for him to break again. For him to vanish into the same darkness that swallowed our dad.

But he’s still here.

And maybe—just maybe—he’s found a reason to stay.

“Yeah,” I say quietly, my arm wrapping around Ally’s waist. “He did.”

And for the first time in what feels like forever, I let myself believe that maybe—justmaybe—we’re all going to be okay.

Not perfect. Not clean. Not healed.

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