Wild Side (Rose Hill #3)

8. Rhys

CHAPTER 8

RHYS

The minute the call window disappears, Tabitha rolls her chair back and flees the room. I swear I see her wipe a hand over her cheek, but it just as easily could have been her flipping me the finger. Either way, I don’t move. I sit, the reality of it all settling in.

My hand. Her knee.

Without even thinking it through, I’d reached for her. Tried to throw her a lifeline. And I shouldn’t have. I’d taken it too damn far.

The truth is, I made that contact as much for her well-being as my own.

The memory of being told similar things by a social worker at every new home I was taken to as a child bubbled up in me unbidden. At thirty-five years old, it still haunts me.

And so does the knowledge that I would never do something that isn’t in Milo’s best interest… but I also promised his mother I’d stand in for her if this day ever came.

I just didn’t expect it to come.

The pain of Erika’s loss is fresh, still unbelievable in so many ways. Our friendship was easy, and she always seemed healthy. None of this feels real, and everything I do right now is just… on autopilot.

I don’t know how much time passes until the sharp clap of Tabitha’s hands behind me startles me out of my reverie.

“You can’t stay here.”

I turn to look at her and come up short when I see her standing in the doorway wearing pin-striped black pants and a white chef’s coat. “Why are you dressed like that?”

Her cheeks hollow out, and her expression sours as she examines me with disapproval. She’s pulled her hair into a tight bun at the nape of her neck, lending to the severe look.

I miss the messy updo and the grass stains on her knees.

“Because I have to go to work.”

“Right now?”

“No. I just love to play dress-up in my free time.”

I let out a beleaguered sigh. “We should talk at some point. To Milo. About Milo. All of it.”

“About Milo staying here?”

My jaw works. I don’t want to lie to her, but I also don’t want to give her false hope. “I don’t know.”

Her lips pop open in disbelief. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

“My life isn’t here. My work isn’t here. I have a summer home in Emerald Lake. There are laws that require me to leave. Staying for more than six months is frowned upon by immigration. And my time is almost up. I’ve been off work.”

Again.

She rolls her eyes and crosses her arms. “Six months off, huh? Must be nice. What is it you do again?”

Now it’s my turn to stiffen. I hate talking about my work. The questions. The assumptions. The way people treat me differently once they find out.

I love being a wrestler with World Professional Wrestling, but I love my privacy more. It’s why my character keeps a mask on in the ring. And it’s why I don’t tell people what I do.

“I work in the entertainment industry.”

Her gaze sweeps over me. “Porn?”

“No.”

“Okay, suuure.” She adds a knowing wink at the end of her already disbelieving sentence.

I don’t respond. I don’t owe her an explanation. Years of learning to hide things and keep shit to myself in the foster system have become a way of life for me even as an adult.

It’s a tough habit to break, and I’m not even sure I want to. Sharing too much always backfires. People always end up wanting something. Namely money.

Maybe even my name in their will .

I can’t help but wonder… if Erika hadn’t known, would she have asked me to be Milo’s guardian?

It’s a question that will keep me up at night after seeing the Garrison family in action. If they are perfectly capable of taking care of Milo, why’d she choose me?

Because I’d be good for him? Or because of the number of zeros in my bank account?

The question leaves me unsettled.

“Hello?” Tabitha waves a hand in front of me, pulling me out of my dazed state. I’m not myself, and I know it. I like time to think. Time to process. I like weighing my options carefully, and this feels like such a snap decision.

I don’t know what to do, let alone what to say, so I suggest something that backfires spectacularly. “I could let him visit sometimes.”

Her face goes red instantly. “You’ve got some nerve. Rolling in here, a total stranger to his entire family. Acting like you’ll be doing me some huge favor by letting him visit.” She scoffs and wipes a hand over her mouth, agitation lining her every movement. I can see the desperation rising in her body language as she shifts from foot to foot. “You’re just some fucking random. You’re not his dad.”

My molars clamp together.

I have spent many a weekend with Milo. Many a stretch taking care of him so Erika could have a break. I’ve given up other vacation locales because, after weeks on the road, it turned out that I missed him.

Over the past two years, I have grown attached. There’s no point in denying it, so I don’t.

“I’m the closest thing he’s got to one. And I’ve been in his life for almost as long as you have.”

I didn’t think Tabitha could turn any redder than she already was, but she defies the odds.

“Get. Out.”

I stand, looming tall over her as I approach, but she’s not the least bit intimidated. She’s a fucking spitfire. Has been since the first day I laid eyes on her. I’m glad Milo has someone like her in his corner. I wish someone had fought as hard for me as she does for him. I may not like her, but I admire her grit and devotion.

“We still need to hash this all out. And I’m not driving five hours home just to turn around and come back when you decide it’s convenient. So where would you have me go?”

She spins away from me, tossing back over her shoulder, “To play in traffic, Daddy.” Her voice is heated, and her hand trembles with fury as she swipes her car keys off the table.

Tabitha is hurting. It’s written all over her. And hurt people hurt people. That’s why I’m not more offended by her jabs. They lack conviction.

She’s shoving her feet into black clogs when she scoffs again. “Actually, I have the perfect place for you.”

“Is it at the bottom of the lake?” I mumble, toeing my own shoes back on and reaching for my jean jacket.

She jerks at my comment, like she didn’t expect me to fire back, but she only misses the one beat. “That’s the dream. Except forensics are pretty solid these days. I’d end up in prison, and then Milo would truly be hooped. Get in your car. You can follow me, since that seems to be your new favorite pastime.”

I bite down on a chuckle, and it comes out as a displeased grumble.

Tabitha is angry. I don’t even know if it’s really about me, though I’m sure my presence isn’t helping. But I know the feeling. The constant niggling thought that you could have done something to prevent this.

It’s the kind of consuming, inconsolable anger that comes with grief.

I know because it’s been a frequent companion of mine throughout my life.

Tabitha practically shoves me into the roadside pub. I can feel everyone staring at me as we weave through the tables, and I hate it. But I don’t stop. I just let my gaze trace the inky strands of Tabitha’s bun. The way they twist together and shine when the overhead lights hit them.

Neon signs flash against wood-paneled walls, and it smells like fried food mixed with the stale remnants of cigarette smoke from a time before smoking in bars was outlawed. The carpet sports years’ worth of stains, and the older crowd sitting at the bar look as though they’ve been coming here since the stains didn’t exist at all.

This place is a local’s haunt if I’ve ever seen one.

We pass through a low-slung wooden gate. At the back of the building, we go down a few steps to where three bowling lanes are located. Then she marches up to a group of men who look happy and relaxed and nothing like the way I feel inside.

“Tabby!” one of them shouts, lifting his hands like he’s excited to see her.

Tabitha’s hand clamps tight on my bicep, nails digging in just a little too hard.

“Overheard your phone conversation earlier, West. You need a fourth for your team?”

The man glances back at the other two guys, sitting at a high-top table. One looks embarrassed to be here. The other looks plain annoyed. “Oh yeah, forgot to mention that Crazy Clyde is in the hospital. Kidney issues. He needs regular dialysis. Had to go check on him. Assure him they weren’t making up his diagnosis just to harvest his organs.”

The grumpy one grumbles and shifts in his seat. “Who the fuck would want Clyde’s organs?”

I have no idea what they’re talking about, so I just take it all in, completely dumbfounded. But Tabitha doesn’t care. She shoves me forward, like she can’t wait to get rid of me.

“Right. Well, here. This is Rhys. Take him.”

The men eye me with a multitude of questions dancing in their eyes. And I can’t blame them one bit. I feel my cheeks burn as they assess me.

The man she called West—the one who was a little too excited to see her if you ask me—speaks up first. “You’re one big bitch, aren’t ya?” he says as he claps me on the shoulder.

“You can say that again,” Tabitha snipes from behind me, and my shoulders tense, though I don’t turn to face her.

“You ever bowled before?” West carries on, ignoring her snark.

“No,” I grit out, trying not to show how annoyed I am by getting marched in here like a naughty child who needs minding.

“You a dad? We can always get you a cat or something if you’re not. Then it will still count as dads’ night out.”

“You’re going to make this guy a cat dad?” The stern one is borderline slack-jawed by West’s suggestion.

“Not a big cat guy,” I bite out, before glancing over my shoulder to glare at Tabitha. “And I’m not really a dad either.”

Tabitha barks out a laugh. “ Rich .” Then she turns to West. “He is a dad, whether or not he wants to admit it. And for what it’s worth, I think you should name your team the Man-Children.”

As they laugh, she leans in, her voice dropping low enough so only I can hear her. “Want to waltz in here and play daddy? Here’s your crowd. Have fun. Hopefully, they don’t find out you’re full of shit.”

She shoots me a glare with a little smirk, and we both know she’s proving a point here. Throw my weight around like I’m a parent, and she’s going to call me out on it.

With that, she spins on her heel and marches out of the bowling alley, leaving me alone and completely out of my element.

“You’re a real ballbuster, Tabby. I appreciate that about you!” West calls back to her as she leaves.

She flips him the finger over her shoulder.

And it makes me feel a bit better that she’s just as mean to him as she is to me.

I watch her leave, hips swaying, head held high, almost regal in the way she carries herself. I should not be this attracted to her. But here I am, unable to look away all the same.

Tabitha winks and pushes out the front door, but not before taking one last glance over her shoulder at me.

It reminds me of the first day she walked away from my house. Our eyes catch for a beat. And then she’s gone.

Tabby Cat . I shake my head. More like a black cat.

I turn and zone back in, only to hear West ribbing the tall, lean man beside him about dating his sister. He rolls his eyes and mumbles something, but there’s a brand of camaraderie between the two men that I’ve never let myself indulge in.

Sure, I have friends—like work friends—but those friends come and go. And sometimes the storylines at work start to feel a little too real, and the dynamic becomes strained.

I like my massage therapist, and he seems to like me. But I also pay him, and I would never go bowling with him.

I get waved through with a “Let’s go, new guy.” And before I know it, I’m faced with an open lane and the prospect of making a complete fool of myself in front of a bunch of strangers.

“You look fucking terrified,” the older man, whose scowl puts mine to shame, comments.

I just shrug. “Confused, mostly.”

“I’m Bash.” He sticks out his hand, and I give mine back, shaking firmly.

“Rhys.”

“You’re new in town, then?”

I grimace. Tabitha practically dropped me into a small-town pot of boiling water, and we still know nothing about each other. About our situation. About what we’re telling people.

And I’m certainly not dumb enough to think she wants me to spill the beans on why I’m really here. So I shrug again. “Sorta.”

“Are you a friend of Tabby’s?” West asks, now focusing his attention back on Bash and me. “Because any friend of Tabby’s is a friend of mine.” He flashes his white teeth at me with a charming smile. He’s clearly the life of the party with this crew. And even though I had an irrational moment of envy over his familiarity with Tabitha, I suspect he’s the type of guy who’s impossible to dislike. Even if I wanted to, he wouldn’t let me.

“Something like that,” is what I settle on as I shake his hand and offer a flat smile.

“Great.” West claps my shoulder and then gestures toward the other man. “This here is Ford. My good friend and also the World’s Hottest Billionaire, according to Forbes .”

Ford rolls his eyes and lets out an exhausted sigh. West grins wider. Like a little kid who gets a kick out of prodding a parent.

“Nice to meet you,” I say, reaching forward to shake Ford’s hand. He’s got polish. He’s dressed casually, but he screams money. I don’t know if the billionaire thing is a joke or not, but I opt not to ask.

“Likewise. Even though it’s over bowling .” His lip curls as he looks around.

“Hey, hey. Don’t disparage the charm of Rose Valley Alley.”

“By charm , he means sticky floors,” Bash mumbles from behind the rim of his pint glass.

“Why are they?—”

West’s arm slices across the space. “Nah. You can’t slander the place like that. It’s an icon. A relic. An attraction.” His finger shoots up triumphantly. “A heritage site!”

“A heritage site ?” Ford looks appalled.

“When the fuck did you become a thesaurus, West?” Bash stares at him with a tilt to his head.

“I read a lot, Bash. It’s good for the vocabulary. Maybe being a fire pilot doesn’t require you to know many words.”

“Oh, and training horses does?”

Their easy banter is amusing and unfamiliar all at once. I find myself watching them, head flipping from man to man and feeling entirely out of place.

Ford chuckles, shaking his head and taking a sip of his beer. “What about you, Rhys? What do you like to do in your free time?”

“And why is it ’roids?” West quips before covering his mouth with a palm. “Shit, sorry. Mouth is faster than my brain.”

Ford groans.

Bash scrubs a hand over his face. “Fuck’s sakes.”

And I laugh. I can’t help it. It feels unfamiliar in my throat. I spend an excessive amount of time alone, and the past week has been impossibly sad. But I still laugh. It was just too good-natured to offend me.

“No ’roids. Just a boring diet, great genetics, and too many hours in the gym.”

“Fair. Yeah.” West purses his lips and looks me over appraisingly. “Now that I take a closer look, you could definitely be bigger.”

Everyone laughs. They laugh even harder when I try my hand at bowling for the very first time.

I stay quiet, appraising. But as bowling progresses, I fall into a comfortable camaraderie with the other three men. For a couple of hours, I don’t think about Erika, or Milo.

I wish I could say I don’t think about Tabitha.

But that would be a lie. Because much like the very first time I met her, I can’t get the woman out of my head.

Haven’t been able to for the past two years.