1. Rhys

CHAPTER ONE

Rhys

FOUR YEARS LATER

Deep thrumming of the bass vibrates through my body, the smell of sweat and booze in the air as I shoulder my way to the back of the bar.

I swing down the partitioner and round the corner, immediately grabbing the tequila shots when I hear a customer shouting for Patrón. I select enough glasses for him and his friends, pouring the liquor with practiced carelessness before arranging them in my hands and dumping them on the bar in front of him.

“Fifty bucks!” I have to shout or else he won’t hear me over the blaring music. Some over-hyped song I’ve heard on the radio, I think. Honestly, Cassius is our DJ, but he has shit taste in music, so I wouldn’t know. When the guy presses a finger to his ear, I roll my eyes and repeat myself. “Fifty bucks!”

“What?” He shouts the question, but I know it’s not because he didn’t hear me. “That’s crazy!”

I shrug. It’s definitely pricey for a few shots, but if he wanted cheap liquor, he could have gone to any other club besides the hottest one in South Beach. Him and his group of friends probably waited over an hour to get through the door, seeing as Butch takes his duties as a bouncer way too seriously.

“The cover was already forty to get in and?—”

“Give me the money and shut the fuck up,” I bark, slapping his friend’s hand when he tries to sneak a shot off the bar.

The guy’s eyes widen, sweaty face flushing even redder as he takes in my words. “What makes you think you can talk to me like that? It’s not brain surgery, bro. It’s not that serious.”

Yeah, exactly, so why is he being a prick about it?

I open my mouth, ready to curse him out again, frustrated after the night I’ve had, until a gentle hand and a pair of huge tits stops me.

“We’ll call it forty,” Britt says, making sure the asshole in front of us can see down her shirt as she holds her hand out. “Open or close your tab?”

I roll my eyes as he basically slobbers for his card, all thoughts of me and my audacity forgotten when he hands over his fancy Amex. “Open, beautiful. Think we can slide open something else tonight?”

“Ew, what the hell?” I cringe and visibly shudder. Britt, being the professional she is, doesn’t comment as she swipes his card and hands it back to him. When he and his friends take their shots and head to the dance floor, I shake my head at her. “How do you deal with that every night?”

She shrugs, taking the measly two bucks he tipped her and hiding it in her bra. “It’s gross, but it’s also whatever. Guys are creeps ninety percent of the time, so at least I’m getting paid to deal with it.”

“Right,” I mutter, half-listening to the woman who appears in front of me and orders a white wine. I move around Britt to grab the bottle. “Honestly, Davis should give you a raise.”

“Why would he when I’ve stolen most of your tips for the night while you’ve been MIA?” Working a cocktail shaker, she winks at me, both of us knowing we pool everything at the end of the night anyway. “Honestly, what was that? Your fifth cigarette of the night?”

I shake my head, grumbling a one-word answer as I hand off the wine, already knowing the woman has an open tab. “It was nothing.”

“It was Elton, wasn’t it?” When I don’t answer, she lets out a bark of laughter, tossing her braided hair over her shoulder as she elbows me. “What? Oh, come on. Has anyone ever told the two of you co-dependency isn’t cute?”

“It’s cute as fuck,” I spit back, although there’s barely any venom in my voice as I do. I wouldn’t say she has it completely wrong. While co-dependent isn’t how I’d describe us, it’s damn close. On my part, at least. Elton has his own friends and his own life, but me? I have the club and him. That’s it. It’s a bit pathetic—and Britt likes to make a point of constantly reminding me—but it is what it is.

“Sweet! Is Elton coming out with us tonight?” Skylar asks. Jumping between the two of us, his color-of-the-week pink hair flops over his eyes. When I grab the bucket from under the top and announce I’m getting more ice from the bar, mostly as a way of getting myself out of his plans, he just bounces behind me. “We’re hitting up Jolly’s after our shifts. You’re coming right?”

“No,” I growl, opening the backdoor with my shoulder and letting it flop closed behind me. Two seconds later, there’s Skylar, swinging it back open with the dramatic touch of a magician—sans frilly cape.

“Come on, Rhys, you never join us,” he whines. Reaching up on the tip of his toes, he tries to grab the ice scooper from the top of the cooler. He’s about one foot too short and ends up slamming into my chest when he tries to jump to get it. I can’t help but smirk when he glares at me over his shoulder, narrowing his dual-colored eyes with irritation. “I hate tall people.”

“I’m not that tall. You’re just short.” I’m not gigantic like some guys, but Skylar is a five-three ball of caffeinated energy. I gently move him out of my way as I start scooping ice. “I’m going straight home after my shift is over, and I suggest you do the same. Doesn’t Davis want us back in the morning at, like, ten or some shit?”

Skylar groans dramatically at the mention of the club owner. Davis is a pretty cool guy, mostly keeping to his office upstairs, but he’s brutal when it comes to scheduling our hours. Not that many of us are complaining. Out of all the clubs in South Beach, those who work at XO get paid the best. It’s why we all put up with Davis’s over-the-top type-A tendencies.

“Ricky’s going to be there!” Skylar adds, as if the mention of his douchebag boyfriend is enough of an incentive for me to join them. “What’s that look for?”

“Get back to work, Skylar.” I push past him, my arms tense and tight with the weight of the ice bucket in my hands.

Stomping his foot, he crosses his arms over his chest with a pout, looking every bit the brat he is. We walk out the backdoor and he scans the dance floor, eyes migrating to where Cassius is stationed behind his sound equipment. “I’m going to bug Cassius.”

“What. Don’t—” But it’s already too late, and he’s halfway across the dance floor, headed to his best friend. “Nobody fucking listens to me.”

When I get back behind the bar, Britt’s there serving all the customers Skylar and I left her. She eyes me with affectionate irritation as she shoves a bottle of vodka in my hands. “Two Midnight Moons. Now .”

I snort and do as she demands, helping her catch up with all the orders she’s taken while Skylar and I were in the back. As I work, I glance around the club, eyes automatically filtering out all the guests to spy Skylar bouncing on his heels besides Butch at the door. Fuck. Good luck to him trying to get that guy to go out after our shifts.

The night goes by quickly like it always does, and three a.m. rolls around before we all know it. At one point, Skylar finally decided to grace us with his presence behind the bar and helped us clear the rest of the people out. All of us are tired, reeking of booze and sweat, as Davis gathers us around the fancy couches by the corner of the club. Now that we’re closed, the floodlights are on, showcasing just how gross this place gets after a Friday night. The floors are littered with random trash and coated in sticky moisture—a mix of sweat and alcohol—and none of us sit on the leather couches until Cassius hands us all antibacterial wipes to disinfect them.

Britt’s thrown on a hoodie and some sweats, and I help her set the register drawers down on the table in front of her as we sit. Next to me, Cassius leans back against the couch, arms outstretched behind him with Skylar on his lap, nodding every now and then as his best friend goes on and on about a new drink idea he’s come up with. Butch stands behind us—I don’t think I’ve ever actually seen him sit a day in his life—silent as he waits for Davis to start.

Once we’re all situated, Davis stands in front of us. For a club owner, he’s fairly young, around his mid-thirties, I would guess, but holds himself with an air of rigidity that could fool you. He clasps his hands in front of him, motioning for Britt to start counting the cash for the night.

“Wonderful shift,” he says, giving us as close to a smile as he can manage while Britt disperses our tips. He juts his chin at Butch. “Updates?”

Butch scratches the back of his neck with his gigantic hand, tips of his ears pink as he’s forced to speak in front of all of us. “Only needed to throw one guy out tonight. Everybody else was okay. People are…” he trails off, gulping as he meets Davis’s eyes, as if he doesn’t want to say what he’s thinking. “People are pushing back at the new cover charge.”

I scoff. That’s an understatement. That preppy fucker from earlier tonight wasn’t the only one that bitched about how much we’re charging people to get in nowadays. My eyes slide to Davis to gauge his response but, like always, I see nothing there besides blank apathy.

He completely ignores Butch’s comment and turns to our DJ. “Cassius?”

Skylar doesn’t realize it’s not polite to talk while other people are, or maybe he doesn’t care, so Cassius has to lovingly slap his hand over his mouth to get him to be quiet. “I need new headphones,” he says, but it comes out as a yell that makes Skylar flinch. When he notices, he settles a calming hand under his shirt, rubbing at his back as he continues. “The ones I have now are fucking up my hearing.”

Davis nods. “Noted. Skylar?”

Skylar rips Cassius’s hand off his mouth, looking like a pleased puppy, practically wagging his tail. “Blue Nipples! We’ll get food coloring and smoke and make it sparkle?—”

“Just tell me how much you need, and I’ll write a check,” Davis says, cutting him off. He looks around the room and raises an eyebrow. “Anybody else?”

We all shake our heads, even though Skylar obviously wants to continue, but one warm look from Cassius has him miming zipping his lips.

Davis dismisses everyone once Britt’s given us all our tips for tonight. Skylar still tries to get me to join them, showing me with manic jazz hands that he even got Butch to agree to come along, but I settle for going home. It’s about four in the morning once we all manage to leave the club. Everyone else is piling into Britt’s pickup truck to head over to Jolly’s while I hop into my rundown Saturn and head back to my place.

Even though I’ve lived here all my life, Miami never ceases to amaze me. No matter what time, day or night, it’s bustling with people. Whether it’s commuters trying to make it to work on time, or drunk idiots Ubering home, there’s never a shortage of people on the streets.

I take the familiar drive from XO back to the apartment I share with Elton. Pulling into the high-rise underground parking lot, I swipe my security card to get past the gate and park in my assigned spot. Then I’m grabbing my backpack and heading to the elevator that’ll take me straight to the penthouse.

I’m fully aware that I live in a luxury most people can’t and will never be able to afford. Fuck, I can’t even afford it. The meager portion of rent I give Elton once a month doesn’t even cover the tip for the doorman, but my best friend is nothing if not persistent. He wanted to live with me, and that was the end of the story. I’m thankful that he and his parents have been so generous through the years, helping me when I can barely manage to buy my own groceries, let alone pay my own rent.

I try not to let the bitterness of why I have to rely on their generosity weigh on me as the elevator opens to the entrance of the penthouse. There’s no point in getting upset. Not when life just keeps moving along, with or without me.

With a sigh, I drop my backpack by the elevator door, peeling off my tank top and tossing it in the dirty hamper by the laundry room on the way to the kitchen. I don’t bother turning on the light as I open the fridge, stomach rumbling while I figure out what to eat this late at night—or early in the morning.

“Fuck. You’re so hot, Rhys.”

I jump, cursing and banging my head against the lip of the fridge. I spin on my heels, angry glare directed at Elton who’s sitting on one of our leather couches in the living room.

“What the fuck, Elt?” I question, flicking on the lights and illuminating that fact that he’s…doing absolutely nothing. “What are you doing sitting in the dark like some creep?”

Elton ignores my insult and cocks his head to the side as he gestures at my hat. “Do you fuck in the backward baseball cap? Do women like that?”

That makes me snort, the picture becoming just a bit clearer at his curiosity about my sex life. “Let me guess. Hot date didn’t go well tonight?”

“No, I mean, yeah. I got laid, but…” he huffs, leaning back on the couch with a pout. “I swear, I did everything right. It was just so fucking awkward, man. I think I’m losing my touch.”

“I think you’re just getting into your own head.” Fishing out some milk from the fridge, I settle on having an early breakfast.

Most guys Elton’s age aren’t looking for love, but that’s exactly what my best friend wants. He’s a straight-up ten—hot as hell, kind as hell, and loyal as hell—and he can get practically anyone to fall for him, but it’s always temporary. Lots of late-night talks throughout the years let me know that he wants something more meaningful than a quick hookup, and he’s getting tired of people not seeming to want the same from him.

“Maybe,” he mumbles under his breath, green eyes far away as he focuses too intently on my Lucky Charms. “How was work?”

I shrug as I take my bowl over to the couch beside him. “People came and I helped them get drunk.”

“When do you work again?” he asks, reaching over to steal a marshmallow from my bowl. “I want us to do something fun together before I leave.”

“Don’t remind me,” I groan.

With Elton’s college graduation out of the way, he’s already preparing for his summer abroad in Spain. It’s some fancy internship program his father recommended him for that’ll have him in Valencia for the entire summer. I’m super proud of him for his accomplishments. Graduating college, landing the internship with his own merit, pursuing a graduate degree—he’s worked harder than he ever has before and is getting rewarded for his efforts.

But that doesn’t mean I can lie and say I won’t miss the shit out of him. Britt was right when she said that Elton and I are a touch co-dependent. A touch might be an understatement . He calls it the bromance for the ages, which I think is dumb, but if it makes him happy, whatever.

Despite being ecstatic for him, sometimes I’m hit with a pang of jealousy. He’s living the life I’ve dreamed of. I’ve always loved learning, more than Elton and anybody else I know, and to not be able to do it…it hurts. Every time I see him doing homework or getting ready for class or cramming for a quiz, bitterness sours my stomach. That was supposed to be our life— my life—and the fact that I’m not living it with him crushes me.

Even worse, it’s the knowledge that he could have been doing all of this at his dream school but, instead, chose to stay with me. His loyalty led him to tell Dartmouth to fuck off so he could be close to me. He gave up that school, football, and his carefully planned life. For that, I’ll always be forever grateful.

Still, that nagging feeling that wishes I could turn back time rises. But I can’t do anything about it. This is my life, this is what it’s come to, this is… This is it . I just need to accept that. But even four years later, it’s a hard pill to swallow.

“You good?” Elton asks, waving his hand in front of my face, snapping to get my attention.

I nod. “Yeah, I just…” Even though there’s nothing I don’t share with Elton, there’s no point in bringing up the unfortunate past. “I’m just going to miss you.”

“Aw,” he coos, leaning to smack a kiss on my cheek. “You’re so fucking cute.”

“Fuck off. I’ll miss you a little less now,” I scoff and wipe his kiss from my cheek. “So, is there anything you need to get done before you leave? You know I’m down to help.”

He nods and picks another marshmallow from my bowl. “I’ll probably need help packing and buying a few last-minute things. But…that’s not really the most important thing on my list.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“Apparently, Everest is coming to UM. He’s starting summer classes.”

I swallow harshly, trying to keep the most neutral face possible, even though everything in me stiffens. My blood runs both hot and cold, blazing fury scorching my veins while my nerves turn to ice. The name is a trigger—a strong as fuck trigger—and every semblance of bitterness and resentment sparks within me.

Everest fucking Hill.

I try to push the feelings away, not because they’re unwarranted, but because I always end up punching something whenever he’s brought up. Everest ceased to be my problem four years ago. But I keep that locked up tight, forcing a neutral face as I nod. “Nice.”

“I just found out,” he continues. “The fucker rarely talks to me, so I had to hear it from Mom and Dad.”

Even though I don’t bring up Everest, Elton never shuts up about him. It’s Everest this and Everest that . And why won’t he talk to me, or what do you think Everest is doing right now ? Don’t get me wrong, I’m selfishly grateful Everest has been basically absent from Elton’s life for the last four years, but it gets annoying and a bit infuriating to see my best friend so…sad.

That sadness is written in Elton’s dark green eyes before it quickly fades. He’s not usually the sweep-it-under-the-rug type. He usually deals with things head on, but with Everest it’s different.

“They also dropped some incredible news,” he says, his voice getting progressively more excited as he speaks.

“Yeah?”

“He’s going to be moving in with us!”

I choke on my cereal. Actually choke. I can feel it lodged in my throat as I struggle to breathe, beating at my chest a couple of times until it unlatches and passes through. I look at Elton with shock, trying to make sure it’s not anger he sees. “What?”

“Yeah. Isn’t that great?” Smiling wide, he rubs his hands together. “The two Hill brothers are finally back together again.”

“When does he move in?”

“Next week.”

This time, I don’t bother hiding my irritation. “And you’re just telling me now ?”

“I didn’t know, okay!” he defends, throwing his hands in the air. “Mom and Dad were going to get him his own apartment, but that fell through.”

“And why is that?”

Elton and Everest are well off. Very well off. Thanks to his dad running a pharmaceutical company, they’ve never wanted for anything. They’re renting this penthouse for Elton and me, and I’m sure they can afford another just for Everest.

“They’re worried about him,” he admits, concern marring his features. “Apparently, he hasn’t been doing too well. I’m not too sure about the details, but they’re hoping maybe some familiarity might help him out.”

I should be disgusted that hearing Everest struggling gives me smug satisfaction. Good . That fucker deserves every single bit of misery. Again, I keep that nasty thought in check. “Sure.”

“I know that he’s grown apart from us, but you always did a great job of helping me look out for him, and I’m hoping you’ll do the same this summer while I’m gone.”

I can’t stop myself from grinding my teeth. The fuck am I going to do? I snarl, but only internally. Nope. If Everest is going to be here, I plan on avoiding him like the plague. He can figure his own shit out as long as he leaves me alone. If he flounders during the summer semester, desperately needing some guidance, screw him. “No.”

“Rhys—”

“I’m not a goddamn babysitter,” I bite out, a little more aggressively than I should. I know he doesn’t understand my reaction. To him, I grew apart from Everest just like he did. He doesn’t realize that his brother played a part in fundamentally changing my future. He doesn’t understand that I don’t want anything to do with him. “If he’s a grown adult like you said he is, he’ll be fine. I’ve got too much going on to watch out for him.”

“That’s bullshit,” he scoffs, shaking his head. “Your social life is basically me. What could you possibly have to do that would take up all your time?”

“Work.”

“You text all the time at work. Next.”

“He’s going to be a cockblock.”

“You barely hook up.”

“I…” I don’t have anything else to say. From his point of view, there should be no reason I can’t do this for him. Watching his baby brother and making sure nobody takes advantage of him is the least I can do for everything Elton’s done for me.

But. I. Don’t. Fucking. Want. To.

Then Elton gives me those pouty eyes that always get to me. “Please, Rhys? Everest has been through a lot. Remember his collarbone injury?”

I shake my head. “That was ages ago.”

“I don’t know. I just want him to be okay. I hate to know that he’s struggling.” Elton drops his head, letting out a puff of air as he tugs at his roots. “Maybe I should stay. Valencia can wait. I?—”

“No!” I practically yell, cereal sloshing as I sit up quickly. “You can’t bail on this trip, man. You’ve been looking forward to it.”

“Family is more important. If Everest needs me?—”

“I’ll do it,” I say before I can think better of it. “I got you.”

I’ll do it because there’s no way in hell Elton’s giving up this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. If I’ve got to just… I don’t fucking know? Make sure Everest doesn’t get himself killed? I can do that.

I’m not going to like it, but I’ll do anything for Elton, even if that means killing myself in the process. Because now, I’m the keeper of the guy who ruined my entire fucking life.

Don’t think about it. Don’t think about it. Don’t think about it.

Elton tenses for a second, contemplation and hesitation still filling his eyes, but then he gives me that award-winning smile. “Thanks, Rhys. Seriously, bro. You have no idea how much I appreciate it. It’s gonna set me at ease knowing someone’s got his back.”

Got his back. And here I always thought the only time I’d be at Everest’s back was if I was sticking a knife through it.

“So,” I say after a second, leaning into my seat, cereal forgotten as my hunger disappears. “Next week?”

“Yup.” He smiles a shit-eating grin. “And guess who’s helping him move all his crap?”

Ugh . The things I do for this guy.