Twelve

Twelve

Parker

Once Rhys is deep in sleep, I lift his shirt just enough to check out the bruising on his side that I saw in the tub. His whole body’s covered in whip-like markers, but the bruise on his side has me worried about his ribs.

And the bruises seem to be stacked on top of one another. More than one person did this to him.

I think of the way he started crying when I tried to get more information about what had happened to him. He’d seemed so cared. Like he’d get in trouble with someone if he told me anything.

I’d automatically assumed Rhys was still in this life because of the earlier answers he gave about not having been to school and not knowing what else to do. But what if he wasn’t telling the whole truth?

Rhys mumbles something unintelligible in his sleep and turns over onto his back. He looks so at peace like this, so different from how he did when he showed up here earlier.

My gaze travels up to his neck, where that choker rests. Rhys had told me once that it was a gift, and he didn’t like to take it off. But looking at it now, it seems…out of place on him. It’s a stark contrast against hi pale skin, and I’ve never seen him take it off. Not even in the shower or bath. But he doesn’t seem to look at it with any kind of fondness either.

My fingers itch to touch it. To explore it and see if I can find out who gave it to him. But I don’t want to accidentally wake Rhys. He had looked so exhausted earlier. TO me, that just seems like further proof that someone else is dictating his job. There’s no way he’s setting up these jobs back-to-back. No way he willingly saw whoever did this to him tonight. Hell, even Phil doesn’t seem like the type Rhys would work with.

My stomach twists, and I turn away from Rhys to grab my phone from the nightstand. I try searching for him online, but without his last name, it’s difficult. Even when I combine his name with Tony’s, it doesn’t yield anything.

For a minute, I wrestle with the idea of asking Cam for help. When I lived with him while he attended UCSF, he worked in security for extra cash. He knew private investigators, police officers, detectives, even bodyguards for famous people. He got along with all of them really well. If anyone could find out more about Rhys, it’d be my brother. But I don’t text him. Not yet. If I’m right and someone’s forcing Rhys to do this, I’ll get Cam involved. I don’t want to bring him into this unless I absolutely have to.

***

I don’t sleep much throughout the night. I don’t drift off until well after midnight, and I wake up several times with my heart racing. I haven’t done that since I was a teenager and had gotten away from Dad.

When I wake again at four, I push up into a sitting position, carefully so as not to wake Rhys. The search for him is still up on my phone so I shut it down. Then I search my father’s name. It’s something I haven’t done since he went away to prison. Back then, thirteen years had felt like a really long time. But now seven years later, it feels like a blink.

I stare at the mugshot they took of him when he was first arrested for robbery. The picture taken when he pleaded guilty for the lesser sentence. And then the most recent one, when he was released six years early.

My gaze traces the lines of his face, the hard look in his eyes I used to have nightmares of him all the time when I first moved in with Cam. I’d wake up muffling my scream into my pillow, hoping I didn’t wake my brother. Sometimes I did accidentally, and he’d come into my bedroom and sit with me for a while. I’d felt guilty about it because I knew he had to get up early for classes. I was relieved when the nightmares went away.

“Is that your dad?” Rhys asks, jerking me from my memories and startling me so badly that I almost drop my phone.

“Sorry,” he murmurs, pushing up onto his elbow. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“It’s fine.” I take a couple seconds to calm my heartbeat before answering his question. “Yeah, that’s my dad. The day he was released from prison.”

Rhys studies the photo for a moment before his gaze flicks up to my face. “Are you worried about him coming after you?”

“I was a little at first. But I’ve been thinking about it a lot, and there’s just no reason for him to. There’s a statute of limitations on what he did, and that’s already run out. He’ll most likely just leave me and Cam alone. My father was violent, but he had a good sense of self-preservation.”

It’s not the full truth, but it’s all I can say right now. I think Rhys can tell there’s more to the story because he doesn’t shift his gaze from mine. I’m the one to break and look away from him. “Did you sleep okay?”

“Yeah.” He plays with the sheet tangled in the bed with us for a second before saying, “I accidentally double booked you with someone else, so I’ll have to leave a little earlier than six. But I’ll get a partial refund out to you.”

“Don’t worry about the money.” I turn back to watch him twist his index finger in the sheet until it can’t go any further. “Are you upset?”

“Hmm?” He jerks his eyes up to meet mine. “No. No. I guess I’m just still waking up.”

It’s so obviously not the truth, but I don’t call him on it. If I want to get more information from him, I can’t have him on edge. The few times he’s opened up to me, he’s been relaxed.

“You want to take a shower with me before you go?”

His cheeks fill with red, and in the dim morning light coming in through my window, I watch as his pupils dilate. “Yeah. I’d love that.”