Page 95 of Rhys: and the girl who was always his

A couple of books. Her favourite hoodie. That ridiculous cat mug she never uses but insists on keeping beside the bed. A worn throw blanket that smells like home. A copy ofPride and Prejudiceshe’s read a dozen times. A journal she keeps zipped in her bag and guards like it’s full of nuclear secrets.

We reorganise the shelves together. She insists on mixing our books.

“We’re merging lives,” she says. “Might as well start with the books.”

Having her toothbrush near mine affects me deeply. That quiet sense ofthis is it.

She sees it on my face.

“What?” she asks.

“Nothing,” I murmur. “Just… this. You. Here. It’s good.”

She steps into me, wrapping her arms around my waist. Her body fits against mine like it was always meant to. “Yeah. It is.”

* * *

Later, we lie in bed. Rain taps the windows in steady rhythm. Her fingers trace lazy patterns over my ribs.

“Do you ever think about the future?” she asks.

“All the time.”

“What does it look like to you?”

I take her hand and press a kiss to her knuckles. “It looks like mornings like this. You stealing the hot water. Us fighting over what to watch. It looks like all the little things in between. And quiet. And us.”

“No big dreams of picket fences and Labradors?”

“Fence could be cool. But only if it’s blue.”

“I’m a purple girl.”

“Even better.”

“How do you think Arden would feel if we painted the fence here?” she asks, and I chuckle.

“Let’s do it and not tell him. Better to ask forgiveness than permission, right?” It would be funny as hell. As much as I’d love to live with Ally somewhere, I know that this is our home. Arden spent a lot of time and money on making this place perfect. He wanted somewhere that we could each have our own space and still be together. It’s home, and I couldn’t picture not living with my best friends.

She goes quiet, then finally speaks, “I was scared. Of being too much. Of being sick. Of needing you too much.”

I cup her cheek. “Iwantto be needed. I wantyou. The messy, brilliant, complicated you.”

She exhales, shaky but real. “Then I guess this is really happening.”

“It’s been happening. We just caught up to it.”

We kiss. Slow and warm andhome.

She pulls back, eyes glassy.

“You okay?” I ask.

“Yeah,” she breathes, snuggling close.

She falls asleep in my arms.

And I stay awake a little longer, watching the way her chest rises and falls. The way she clings to me in her sleep. Like even in her dreams, she knows where she belongs.

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