Page 69 of Rhys: and the girl who was always his

I just don’t know how to say it.

Footsteps echo in the hallway, slow and steady, and then Yasmin rounds the corner, her hair tied up in a messy bun, hoodie slung off one shoulder. She yawns, then pauses when she sees me.

“You okay? You look like you’re about to throw up or confess a murder.”

I laugh, but it comes out thin. “Neither. Yet.”

She tilts her head, crossing her arms. “Is this about Rhys?”

Of course, she knows.

She always knows.

I nod slowly.

“You going to finally talk to him? Really talk to him?”

“I need to. But it scares me,” I tell her, my thoughts racing. I love Rhys; I always have. But now that we are really giving this a go, I need to be honest with him.

Yasmin walks over and sets her mug beside mine. “Love’s scary. Especially when it’s real, but it’s also the best thing we get.”

I look at her, and she smiles, soft and full of something that looks a lot like hope.

“Tell him. Whatever it is. Just tell him. You know he loves you; he wants this as much as you do, Ally. You’ve been in love with each other for years. It’s finally time you get what you both want.” She snags a muffin off the counter.

“But what if it doesn’t work out?” I voice my fears. Being in a relationship. It scares me more than my epilepsy does.

Yasmin looks me over before she answers. “You’ll never know unless you try. You can’t go into this thinking the worst. You guys will always have us, but we’ve been rooting for you. Why do you think we were all trying to come up with ideas to get him out of the arrangement with Ashley? We wanted you both to be happy.” She squeezes my arm, trying to reassure me.

“What if I don’t make him happy?”

“Don’t be stupid. You’re getting in your own head. Take a step back and embrace the now. Let yourself be happy and enjoy this.” Yasmin’s phone rings. “Sorry, I have to take this. It’s Mady.”

I just nod and watch her disappear through the door, leaving me with my thoughts and a cold coffee I can’t bring myself to drink.

* * *

Rhys comes back around lunch, hair damp from the misty rain outside. The front door creaks, followed by the soft thud of his boots.

He sees me and stops in the doorway, eyes scanning mine with something close to concern.

“Hey,” he says, cautious. I hate that he feels he has to be careful around me.

I hate that we are making this awkward.

“Hey,” I reply softly. Yasmin’s words from earlier play on repeat.

“You okay?” His voice is laced with concern. His eyes roam over me, and I feel their heat. He makes me feel like I’m the most beautiful girl in the world.

I nod. “Can we talk?” It’s time to pull up my big girl panties and have this conversation.

He steps closer immediately, his movements careful. “Of course. What’s wrong? Did something happen?” Always the worrier.

“No, nothing happened,” I say, already feeling my throat tighten. “Just… come with me?”

I take his hand and lead him out to the back patio. The rain has stopped but left everything smelling like eucalyptus and damp leaves. The wood of the deck is slick beneath our feet, and the sky above is streaked with pale silver clouds, the kind that always feel like they’re holding back more rain.

We sit down on the porch swing, knees brushing. The silence stretches between us, but it doesn’t feel like pressure.

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