Chapter 27
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Rhys
Rescuing people, then singing for them doesn’t leave much time for worrying about whether your career’s gone down the drain.
Then there’s the added bonus of putting things into perspective.
The people Stella and I hauled into Adam’s place weren’t prepared for the storm for a variety of reasons, but one thing is certain—they would have been in serious trouble if this town hadn’t stepped in to help them.
Most of them are old, without a lot of family around to help out.
A couple dozen people—including volunteers—line up in front of the eat-in counter, waiting for Adam and Stella to hand them a bowl of soup, a fresh roll, and a steaming cup of coffee or hot cocoa.
The room smells of wood smoke and buttered bread, laughter mixing with the hiss of the propane stove.
If Stella’s half as exhausted as I am, she’s ready to drop, but she just keeps smiling, calling everyone by name.
Even a human rain cloud like me can’t help thinking people aren’t all bad when Stella’s around.
Something else I can’t help thinking is all that matters in life is relationships, yeah?
If I never make another cent on my music, I’ll still have my friends and family.
Danny’s voice still rattles round my head—all contracts and clauses—but none of that means a thing here.
I’m one of the lucky blokes who could sell his house and live off the profits for the rest of my life.
Not like I have been living, but if I’ve got Mum, Dad, and my mates, who cares?
I’m keen to add Stella to that lineup, if I didn’t think she’d get nervous I’m rushing things. But watching her jump in and help people only solidified my feelings for her. I value loyalty and kindness, and La-La’s got that in spades.
After letting her shoo me away a few times, I sidle up behind her. “Take a rest and eat. I can handle this.”
I slip the ladle from her hand and nudge her away from the soup pot simmering over the portable stove.
“Okay,” she relents, then scoots by me, squeezing my forearm with a thanks as she does.
We’re there until dusk when Adam makes us leave. People will be staying overnight, but there aren’t enough cots for Stella and me, so he insists he and his wife Evie, along with Zach and Georgia, can handle everything.
“You two should get back to your mom’s before it gets dark or starts snowing again,” he tells Stella.
She answers with an enormous yawn. By the time we get on our snow gear, she looks like she could fall asleep standing up.
“I’m driving,” I say after we trudge through a foot of fresh snow to get to the snowmobile.
For once, she doesn’t argue, only nods and hands me the key. I brush the snow off the seat and handles, then she climbs on behind me, pressing her body into my back and resting her head between my shoulder blades.
“Do you know how to get home?” she asks.
I want to tell her I feel like I’m already there. Instead, I say, “Might need some direction.”
We make it back to her mum’s without too many problems, the main one being I wanna go faster than she’s willing to allow on my first time behind the wheel.
Once we’re there, we get the portable generator set up.
The house is ice cold, and it’ll take more power than the generator’s got to warm it up quick, so I build another fire.
The air smells faintly of smoke and melted snow—a sharp mix of ash and cold metal.
“The generator can power our phones. We could check messages,” Stella says softly once we’re bundled up in front of the fireplace, more s’mores fixings at the ready.
“Yeah, nah. Isn’t there something on your list about not looking at your phone for a whole day?”
“You’re right.” Her voice spikes with relief. “Gotta prioritize the list.”
I wrap an arm around her shoulders, pulling her closer. “And just the two of us—nice change, yeah?”
No point diving into whatever chaos is waiting for us when we can’t do a thing about it now. VibeHouse still has me by the throat, but for one night, it doesn’t matter. If I could, I’d stay right here forever. Not just Paradise, but this quiet place that’s only Stella and me.
‘Course I could do without the snow. Don’t think I’ll ever be warm again.
We don’t get to the s’mores tonight. We’re too tired.
Instead, we lie in front of the fire making plans for crossing other things off Stella’s list. By my count, now that she’s made an exception (number thirty) to not falling in love (number one), she’s halfway done, and it only took a couple of months.
I reckon we can knock out the rest in the next year, even if we move at a leisurely pace.
Stella falls asleep mid-sentence with her head on my chest. I stroke her hair and kiss her forehead, then close my own eyes.
The power clicks on in the early morning.
The heater sputters to life, and the overhead lights flood the living room where we’re sleeping, but there’s only darkness outside the curtains.
The sound of the heater feels too loud after a night of silence.
Stella presses her face into my chest and groans.
“Storm’s passed. If power is on, the utility company’s been able to get to the station in the canyon. Road’s open.” she mumbles.
I know what she really means. I’m thinking the same thing. “We could turn the lights off—pretend we’re still stuck here.”
“Okay.” She winds her arm across my chest and burrows in deeper.
I shift my weight. My arm’s fallen asleep, and my body aches from being in the same position for too long, but I don’t want this moment to end.
A few minutes later, Stella groans again. “I think I’m about to cross off number twenty-eight.”
“Which one’s that?” I reckon I know, but I don’t want to.
“Say no to something that doesn’t feel right,” she says before pushing herself up. “We’ve gotta face this thing now, Rhys.”
I tuck a loose lock of hair behind her ear.
A few more minutes of peace would be worth facing the storm twice over, but I guide her face to mine for a deep kiss.
“You’re right,” I say when we break apart, brushing my thumb along her jaw.
“But if this is the last quiet moment we get, I’m holding onto it for as long as I can. ”
Reluctantly, we climb out of our makeshift bed and plug in our mobiles. While they power up, we down enough coffee and toast to wake us up and fill our stomachs before facing the onslaught of texts and voice messages that are sure to be waiting for both of us.
“A dozen voicemails—most of ’em from Danny—and fifty-three texts,” I say when my screen comes to life.
“Trade ya.” Stella volleys. “Two dozen voicemails and a couple hundred texts.”
I shake my head. “Cheers, love. Have fun.”
I scan my voice messages before opening one from Dex—I’ll work my way up to Danny—but Stella swipes my phone before I can press play.
“La-La, what—”
“People love it!” She flips her mobile around to show me the video of my show at the Garden. “A million likes, Rhys. A million!”
I take her mobile and look at the TikTok again, then scroll through the comments. My hands tremble. There are some negative ones—critics skeptical of my new sound, but the bulk of ‘em are positive. After a year of trolls coming at me, it’s hard to believe what I’m reading.
The Rhys James I’ve been waiting for!
More please!
!
Fa-La Whhhhhat?
And so many more. I raise my eyes to Stella, who’s grinning so wide, my own grin slips out.
“Is this for real?” I whisper.
“Are you serious?” she squeals. “Rhys! The only one who’s surprised by these likes is you. I’ve been telling you how good those songs are. Do you believe me now?”
My smile fades, and I hand her mobile back. “It’s all fleeting. Everyone who loves my songs today could change their minds tomorrow.”
In the blink of an eye, Stella’s expression hardens. “So what? Do you love those songs?”
Her laser-focused gaze holds me too tightly, making me squirm.
She’s needling for a confession I don’t want to cough up.
It’s hard enough to have the songs I’m proudest of out in public before I’m ready—before they’re ready.
Admitting I love them will only make it hurt worse when so-called fans move on.
“Rhys.” The tenderness in her voice draws my eyes back to hers, and my chest eases.
“All this engagement is good for your career,” she says.
“But those comments don’t have anything to do with who you are.
The songs are a piece of you, not all of you.
If you’re the only one who loves them, that’s enough.
” Stella threads her fingers through mine and tugs me closer, looking up at me with those dark, steady eyes that see every part of me. “Know your worth.”
Her emphasis on the last words and her soft expression free the joy I’ve guarded like something fragile I’ve been too scared to touch.
“I do love them, La-La.”
“So do I. And I’ll never stop loving them because they helped me see who you really are.”
“Oh, yeah? Who’s that?” I loop my arms around her waist, leaning closer, but she slips away before I can close the gap.
“I’ll show you.” She scrolls through her mobile, then shows me video she took yesterday while I was singing to Lynette and the other people at the Garden.
Then she pulls up another of me serving soup, smiling at people in line, and another of me wrapping a blanket around an older man who looked half-frozen.
“This is who you are, Rhys,” she says, showing me clip after clip. “Someone who feels and cares deeply. Someone who wants to use music not only to make people happy but also to sit with them through the hard stuff.”
“That’s what you see?” I tear my eyes away from Stella’s mobile and find her studying me.
“Of course it is. That’s what I want everyone to see…”
I lift my eyebrows. “You want to post these.”
Stella nods. “Only if you want, but I think we should before you listen to those messages from Danny.” She points to the last video, still playing, of me talking to Lynette over our steaming cups of coffee.
“You’re going to need fan support if Danny and VibeHouse come after you.
We need to take control of the narrative now and tell your story. ”
I smile and fold her into my arms. “How’d a bloke like me get so lucky to have you in my life?”
“I reckon you’ve been a very good boy this year.” She snuggles into my chest, squeezing me tight. “I think you might even get what you asked Santa for, just not in the way you expected.”
I try to pull back to question her about how she knows what I asked for, but she’s clinging too tight, and truth is, I don’t want to let her go. Not now. Not ever.