Chapter 9

NINE

The last thought that Rhys remembered having before he fell asleep was that he’d done something wrong. He’d been too exhausted to examine that thought, both in body and mind. All he’d cared about was that he had Early in his arms, the two of them had enjoyed each other, and he might just have taken things to a different level with someone he could see himself having a future with.

He had weird dreams that night. Nothing solid or with a plot of any sort, just that he was cold, the entire house was cold, and he had to search for Early to make sure they weren’t freezing.

Rhys reached for Early first thing when he woke up, but the bed beside him was as cold as his dream. It reignited that feeling that he’d done something really wrong the night before. He stretched groggily and muscled himself up a little to look around the room.

“Early?” he asked, but not too loudly. He didn’t want to wake Early if they were still sleeping somewhere.

Who was he kidding? He didn’t want to call out too loud because he was afraid he’d discovered something he didn’t want to know. Like the fact that he’d hurt or upset Early in some way by taking things too fast the night before.

He flopped to his back, letting out a heavy sigh and rubbing his hands over his face. It had been good last night, hadn’t it? Early had wanted and been open to being with him. The sounds they made had encouraged him to go on. Maybe a little too much.

Rhys winced and draped one arm over his face, hiding. He’d been wound so tightly last night, and Early had been throwing off every green light, sexy signal known to man. It had made him realize just how badly he’d wanted them and for how long. All the rational excuses to stay away that he’d come up with for the last few months were just that, excuses. The second he was given the go-ahead, he’d definitely gone ahead.

Looking back, he was certain Early hadn’t been as ready as they’d seemed. They’d been incredibly nervous when trying to give him a blow job, like they’d never done it before. And they’d been far too tense once the two of them were horizontal, despite the fact that they’d come. Their movements had been uncertain at every turn, like they had no idea what was going on.

“Shit,” Rhys hissed, rubbed his face again, and pushed himself up and out of bed. It was exactly what he’d been afraid of this whole time, exactly why he hadn’t rushed into flirting with Early or tried to get them in bed earlier. Early hadn’t said a word, but Rhys would have been willing to bet that had been their first time.

“Bloody hell,” he grumbled as he headed to the bathroom to use it and splash some water on his face. He needed a full shower, but first things first. He had a hell of a lot of making things up to Early to do.

He grabbed a pair of pajama bottoms from his wardrobe, put them on, then headed into the flat’s main room.

“Early?” he asked, no longer trying to keep quiet and shrink away from what he’d done and what he knew he had to do as he approached the couch. “Hey. Are you?—”

His question was cut off when he reached the couch and saw it was empty. The cushions were a bit askew, like Early had slept there, but it was empty now.

“Fuck,” Rhys sighed, then headed into the kitchen to flick the kettle on. He needed tea if he was going to think his way through this.

He needed a smack upside the head was what he needed. He should have known better. He was supposed to be the older and wiser one, the one who guided and protected Early. It was horrible of him to not only fail in that duty, but to possibly have caused damage in the process. Why else would Early be absent from his bed and his flat the morning after?

By the time the water had boiled and he made his tea, Rhys had calmed a little and forced himself to think about things more rationally. He and Early had a special connection. It had been pointless of him to brush that aside before, and it would be unforgivable of him to ignore that now. Early had a crush on him—or had had a crush on him—and if he were honest, he liked Early, too.

Rhys took a breath and drank some tea, forcing himself to be dead honest. He didn’t just like Early, he loved them. Maybe not head-over-heels, let’s make a rom-com out of it, marriage, children, and the whole nine yards love, but love all the same.

He smiled and stared blankly at his kitchen wall. Yeah, he really did love Early. He loved Early’s shy smile and not-so-shy moments when they felt confident in themself. He loved how efficient Early was, which was odd of him, but so true. He loved the courage Early didn’t know they had. That courage had led them to pose for his class, and really, that same courage was what had led to last night.

There were so many things about Early that were wonderful, but that they didn’t see about themself. Maybe last night was a mistake, but maybe not. Mad as it was, Rhys found himself wanting to make up for any misunderstandings not by turning cold and keeping his distance, but by trying again with more talking about it beforehand and a deeper understanding of what the two of them meant to each other.

Those thoughts settled a lot of the upset in Rhys’s soul. He finished his tea, rinsed his mug and left it in the sink, then headed to the bathroom for a shower. Things would work out between him and Early one way or another, he would make certain of it.

The quiet joy of believing he could make things right and start something special with Early buoyed Rhys’s spirits as he washed and dressed for the day. He left his flat full of optimism and headed downstairs. He might even be able to get some work done on Raina’s painting at the rate he was going.

All that crashed into a mess around his feet when he ran into his dad and Nick at the bottom of the stairs in the family corridor.

“Hey, Rhys, there you are,” his dad said, all false smiles and preemptive tension.

“Morning,” Rhys greeted his dad and his brother-in-law with nods.

“Hey,” Nick said. He looked like he hadn’t slept well, and he was carrying a squirming, fussing Macy.

Something sharp and sticky pulled at Rhys’s insides. Before he could stop the thought, he looked at Macy, angry that Raina wasn’t there to calm her. Macy needed her mum, but because of some drunk behind a wheel, she would never get that comfort ever again.

He might have been able to dismiss the intrusive thought or breathe through it, but his dad said, “Things just got a little bit more complicated with the fundraiser, and we wanted to talk to you about it before you heard it anywhere else.”

“How complicated?” Rhys asked, feeling his grief-fueled anger rising in him like an incoming tide.

Nick shuffled Macy in his arms and tried to cuddle her, but she was clearly upset, too. “You know Martin Flint has been the one behind the efforts to raise money for CADD and awareness for sensible drinking,” he said.

“Yeah?” Rhys crossed his arms tightly, bracing himself for the blow he knew was coming.

“Well, there’s a sister as well, Nancy,” Nick continued. “She and Martin are kind of estranged, and she just found out about the whole event.”

Rhys caught himself praying the sister would step in and demand the whole thing be canceled. “And?” he asked.

“And Nancy doesn’t like what Martin’s told her about the event so far,” his dad said. “She either wants the whole thing to be turned into a memorial of Mariel’s life, complete with a media display and speeches to honor her, or she wants it called off.”

The tide of anger threatened to swallow Rhys completely. “No,” he said, hugging himself tighter to stop from shaking with rage. “Absolutely not. There is no way we’re doing a tribute to a murderer in this house. Call it off.”

“I understand that you feel that way,” his dad reached out to touch Rhys’s arm. “But we want to make this a celebration of life, not a war of grief. It’s an important cause that deserves our support.”

Rhys’s eyes went wide at his dad’s characterization of his objections. “Do you honestly think that the woman who is responsible for Raina’s death should be celebrated in any way?” he asked. The question was for his dad, but he glanced to Nick for an answer as well.

Nick sighed helplessly and continued to try to calm the fussy girl in his arms. “I’m as conflicted over the whole thing as you are, Rhys,” he said. “Probably even more.”

Rhys wasn’t sure. Raina had been Nick’s wife, but they’d only known each other five years. He’d known Raina her entire life.

“I just want to keep the peace,” Nick went on, his face drawn. “I think Raina would have looked for forgiveness first and foremost.”

“You don’t know that,” Rhys snapped, then immediately regretted it.

He squeezed his eyes shut and forced himself to take a calming breath. He could practically see his therapist’s disappointment in the way he kept leaping before he looked and opening his mouth when it should have stayed closed.

“I appreciate your need to please people and bring this whole thing to rest,” he started again, opening his eyes and looking between his dad and Nick, “but this is wrong. Not everyone in the world is good and nice and deserving of praise. Mariel Flint did something wrong, and my sister is dead because of it.”

“I knew this would be a tough pill to swallow,” his dad started, reaching out again.

Rhys flinched away. “No, you don’t know,” he said. “You’re being too nice. Some people don’t deserve consideration. They don’t deserve an entire memorial gala where everyone talks about how great they were when they were actually a shit person.”

His breaths were getting harder and harder to suck in. His emotions felt like a ball of rubber bands unraveling and flying everywhere, completely out of control. He was skating close to a full-blown panic attack, and if he didn’t pull himself together?—

“Excuse me, Robert?” Early’s voice sounded behind Rhys. “You have a phone call.”

“Thanks, Early,” Rhys’s dad said.

Rhys turned around to face the other problem spinning him out of control.

His throat closed up and whatever air he had left in his lungs froze at the sight of Early. They looked somehow smaller and paler than usual. Their eyes were large and worried. That wasn’t what brought everything inside of Rhys to a full, crashing stop, though.

“What the hell are you wearing?” he blasted out before he could stop himself.

“I….” Early tensed even more, glancing down at the slacks and cardigan they wore.

“That’s Raina’s jumper,” Rhys blurted, his hurt and grief still too big for him. “I gave that to her on her last birthday. How dare you take something that belonged to my sister and?—”

“Rhys!” his dad snapped.

It was a good thing, too. Rhys felt frighteningly out of control.

Worse still, Early’s face pinched with misery, and their eyes went glassy. “Sorry,” they whispered, then turned and practically ran off down the hall.

Rhys was too stunned by his overreaction to do a damn thing to make the situation better. He noticed that Early was wearing a pair of old trainers instead of the heels they’d been sporting for the last few days. That last little detail broke his heart entirely. Something was wrong, and it was almost certain he’d caused the problem.

“Way to be an asshole,” Nick fired at him as Macy burst into full-on wails. Nick shook his head and turned to head down the hall, presumably to his and Raina’s flat.

“Rhys, you know I love you,” his dad said in an unusually firm voice, “but you’re being a dick.”

The incongruity of having his nearly seventy year old dad call him a dick in such a stony voice, all while dressed like the hippie he was, shook Rhys out of the cage of anger he’d trapped himself in.

“I’m sorry,” he gusted out, rubbing his face with both hands. “I don’t know what’s gotten into me. The last few days have been…intense.”

“I know,” his dad said, still firm, but warming a little as he stepped forward to enfold Rhys in a hug. “Grief is a bastard that sneaks up on you long after the fact. Everyone handles it differently.” He stood straighter, holding Rhys at arm’s length. “You need to get yours under control and get with the program. I don’t care how you feel about it personally, we, as a family, are hosting this fundraiser, and if that means celebrating the life of someone who made one bad choice on one night, then that’s what we’re doing.”

“I know, I know,” Rhys said in defeat, even though he was still furious.

“Now you need to go make things right with Early, too,” his dad went on. “Because that was a piss-poor display of nastiness right there. That young person has enough to deal with right now without you hurting their feelings with something that has nothing to do with them.”

“I know,” Rhys said, feeling a little sick. His dad had no idea just how much he had to make things up to Early now. “I’ll go deal with that now.”

“Good.”

His dad slapped his arm in encouragement, then walked with Rhys into the front hall before peeling off and heading to his office.

Rhys headed to the main office, no idea how he could find words sincere and deep enough to apologize to Early.

Except Early wasn’t in the office when he popped his head in to attempt to make things right.

“What did you do to them?” Rebecca demanded after telling Rhys they’d gone to run an errand. “They were in tears.”

Rhys felt abjectly awful. “I was a dick,” he said, repeating his father’s words. “And a few other things,” he added, feeling his face heat.

“Yes, well, of all the people you do not need to be a dick to, Early is at the top of the list,” Rebecca said, glaring at him. “You’d better make things right with them or I will put nettles in your underwear drawer again.”

It was a sign of just how bad things were with him that Rhys didn’t laugh at the reminder of the prank Rebecca had played when they were teens. It took weeks before he could get dressed without thoroughly inspecting his briefs after that little incident.

“I’m going outside,” he said, rubbing his forehead in an attempt to dispel his growing headache. “I’ll try not to be late to class, but I can’t promise I’ll be ready in half an hour.”

“I’ll let them know,” Rebecca said, her righteous anger melting into concern.

Rhys nodded, then left the office, heading for the front door. There was only one person he wanted to talk to when life hit a rough patch, and since he would never be able to talk with her again, he did the next best thing and headed to his and Raina’s bench.

The weather wasn’t half as nice as it had been the day before. It wasn’t raining outright, but the sky was spitting, like it was trying to annoy him by being undecided about what it wanted. The stone bench under his classroom window was damp, but not so wet that he couldn’t sit down.

“What am I doing?” he breathed out, leaning back against the house and tipping his head up to the fickle sky. “That the actual fuck am I doing?”

A year and a half ago, Raina would have told him exactly what he was doing and what she thought about it. Now, Rhys got nothing but silence in answer to his desperate question.

Life didn’t get easier once you had more experience with it, and losing the people who mattered most in your life didn’t make you a better person. It just made you more lost, because you knew everything you were missing and everything you didn’t know.

Rhys sucked in a breath and lowered his head, staring out at the misty landscape he knew so well. The urge to share his life lessons with Early was as ridiculous as it was strong. Early didn’t need him sweeping in and messing up their life even more. He had zero wisdom to impart, that was for sure. Early was so much better off without him.

At the same time, as mad as it was, the one thing that would have made Rhys feel better just then was to have Early sitting there with him. He wanted to wrap Early in his arms and cuddle with them until he felt better. Not because Early could replace Raina. Early was someone else entirely. The affection Rhys felt for them came from an entirely different place in his heart.

Not that it mattered. He’d well and truly fucked things up with Early. He had no idea how to fix anything, he just knew he had to.