Chapter Twenty Eight #2
After a beat, I ease it closed with a soft click, leaving me standing in the hallway.
I’m fully aware of Rhys’ need for Harper right now.
He may not want to show it, but I’m learning to read his tells.
Leaving the manor, his father, his legacy, it’s a lot for anyone to handle, nevermind someone who is out of touch with his own emotions.
And besides, I no longer feel the desperation to be with Harper every minute of the day, no longer shackled by the competition for her attention.
She knows I care for her deeply, and I’ll get the chance to show her just how much tomorrow.
And the next day, and the day after that, for as long as she’ll keep me around.
I’m the first to emerge the following morning, Addy hissing for painkillers, comparing herself to a vampire being stabbed in the eye with shards of sunlight.
Her words, not mine. After locating aspirin in the kitchen and returning it to her with a glass of water, I shower and change before the rest of the house wakes.
Sienna catches me at the bottom of the stairs, her smile just as warm as she jerks her head towards the kitchen.
That’s how I find myself falling in step with her routine, a frilly apron around my torso that only reaches my thighs.
The dining table starts to fill with other guests, the delicious smell rolling through the house calling everyone downstairs.
I place another bowl into the centre, having set the table around a small vase of freshly cut flowers, and helped cook the breakfast. Every time I walk back through the open archway from the kitchen, another woman is seated and eyeing me suspiciously.
A small giggle alerts me to Harper’s presence, her green eyes alight with amusement and a thick paperback clutched in her arms. I can’t help but beam at her, the image of beauty stepping into the morning rays.
I don’t care that her hair is ruffled, a reddened smudge on her cheek from her pillow.
She walks straight into my body, her head finding its place against my chest as I band my arms around her.
Reluctantly putting some space between us, I use my hands to speak.
‘Good morning, Beautiful. How did you sleep?’
Harper gives me an appreciative smile and finds a seat between two women at the table.
‘I slept well. Is there coffee?’
Chuckling, I move into the kitchen and fix her a cup, feeling the heat of eyes on my back as I go.
I tell myself it’s because we’re new around here, and not because my biceps are bulging against the T-shirt I picked out that was evidently Rhys’.
The fabric is tight across my shoulders, and compared to Sienna’s dainty hands, mine look like meaty oven mitts.
Returning with Harper’s coffee, the strong and nutty kind, she inhales appreciatively.
The scent mingles with buttered toast, fried eggs, and the sweet cinnamon of Sienna’s baking.
Another woman has appeared with a young girl, both taking a seat with a careful sort of politeness, their eyes flicking to me and then away again.
I’m starting to get the strange feeling that I’m the odd one out here, until Rhys steps into the room.
The collective inhale is audible, even to Harper without her receivers on.
Oblivious to his surroundings, Rhys saunters in, foregoing a T-shirt with only a pair of lounge pants slung low on his hips.
The angels and demons stretch across his skin, stark black against his pale skin.
Upon his head, his hair is a mess of dark brown flicks, sticking out in all directions.
Scrubbing a hand through it, he makes it even worse.
All the while, he tongues the scar where his lip ring used to be.
Reaching for a vacant chair, his gaze is rooted on the back of Harper’s head as he drags it behind hers.
The scrape of wood on wood irritates my ears, but as he sinks into the chair and kneads his fingers into Harper’s shoulders, I shake it off.
Is he possessive? Absolutely. Does Harper deserve to be pampered at all times? One hundred percent.
“No need to be alarmed ladies,” Sienna joins us, taking her place at the head of the table, with me dropping down beside her.
“These men are our guests. They pose no threat.” There’s a ripple of uncertainty, and Rhys visibly straightens.
His gaze catches mine as if just realising the rest of the room exists.
Glancing from one woman to the next, his piercing blue eyes land on the small girl at the end of the table.
She shrinks back behind her mother, her young face contorting with fear.
I figured Rhys would grunt and turn away, resolute in his right to be his stubborn self.
But instead, he eases his chair back, selects a pink rose from the vase in the center of the table and approaches the young girl.
“I’m Rhys,” he says quietly, holding out the rose as a peace offering.
It takes a few seconds for her to accept, her tiny fingers plucking the stem from his tattooed ones.
She doesn’t respond, but she produces a fragment of a smile before hiding it behind her blond curls.
Satisfied, Rhys returns to his chair, to Harper, and the room around us softens slightly.
Sienna watches everyone, her face impassive but her demeanor encouraging.
I’m the first to offer a basket of baked treats to the woman beside me, effectively setting the meal into motion.
The brunette can’t be more than seventeen, her hands shaking as she reaches for the basket.
She whispers a thank you, passing it down in a practiced motion.
Only once everyone else has plated up do I serve myself, splitting what’s left with Rhys.
Harper watches me with that look she gets when I actually take care of myself, and it does something to my chest. A twisting of vulnerability and pride becomes intertwined.
In pairs, small mumbles of chatter break out.
The women are relaxed with one another, their bodies shifting together seeking comfort without realizing it.
Halfway through breakfast, Harper tilts her head, eyes scanning the room, the sheer number of women finally clicking.
Placing her pastry down, she frowns at me, signing across the table.
‘Is this a woman’s shelter?’ As the words travel across the table, my own mind catching up on the obvious.
A reddened twinge colors Harper’s cheeks, her hands signing some words I’m yet to learn, but I get the general meaning.
‘I’ve been screaming all night. I have handprints bruised into my neck. What must they think?!’
Despite myself, a small chuckle escapes me.
If anyone at this table truly thought Harper was in danger, I’m sure Rhys and I would have woken to the sight of uniforms and handcuffs.
Oblivious to her concerns, Rhys reaches over Harper’s shoulder and plucks the cinnamon bun from her hold, taking it for himself.
He does appear rather toxic, but I know his faults aren’t a choice.
More of a learned behavior. I never thought I’d see the day when I was defending Rhys Waversea, my enemy, rival and bully.
But I also didn’t think I’d discover a side to him that cared about something other than himself.
Leaning over, Sienna asks if I’d like to take a plate of food up to my girlfriend, meaning Addy, and balks when I tell her that Harper is in fact my girlfriend.
It doesn’t help anyone’s confusion that Rhys is currently using his thumb to wipe some cinnamon sugar from the corner of Harper’s mouth, and proceeds to suck it clean himself.
I ignore the curious glances and the heat rising up the back of my neck.
The rest of breakfast passes without incident, although one girl flinches when Rhys reaches over to take her plate.
He joins my side at the basin, me washing and him drying, an air of comfort settling around us.
We stumbled upon this place by accident, but I’m thankful for the reprieve between the manor and whatever will be waiting for us back at the academy.
One last morning to simply be, before the rest of the world and their grandma’s have something to say about our unconventional arrangement.
I do take food and a coffee for Addy, needing to coax her out of the blankets like a wild animal.
She even tries to bite me when I pry her eye mask off, but calms down once she smells the caffeine.
Packing our bags and zipping them closed, I tell Addy to meet me in the entrance hall when she’s ready.
I then knock on Rhys’ door to state the same, adding that we need to hit the road before there’s too much traffic to contend with.
Downstairs, Harper has made herself at home on the window seat, the book in her hand and a small smile on her face as she reads.
I take a moment to appreciate her like this, in her own cocoon of bliss that no one can touch.
She’s always breath-taking, but something about her softened expression when she’s lost in a book that makes my heart expand.
Of all the fake and materialistic women in the world, she’s like the freshest breath of air breezing through.
I leave her for as long as I can, seeking out Sienna to thank her for the hospitality.
“You need to be careful who you permit to stay,” I chastise lightly, my attention caught on three women on the sofa, all working on the same crochet project. Sienna's eyes beam with warmth as she lightly touches my arm.
“I’ve seen enough in my time to know a good soul from a tainted one.
My ladies aren’t in any danger with you or your friends here.
” It’s on the verge of my tongue to ask how she sensed that in Rhys so easily, but then he and Addy appear on the stairs, shoving each other with their elbows to descend first. Rolling my eyes, Sienna laughs and those in the dining area peer over.
There seems to be some kind of painting workshop happening on the large table, being led by the shy brunette.
She doesn’t seem so shy now, surrounded by the women who appear as close as family.
Addy hops off the bottom step in triumph, her smile knocked aside by the backpack Rhys bashes into her head whilst putting it on.
I need to get those two out of here before a real fight breaks out.
Unable to hold off any longer, I interrupt Harper.
She glances up, slightly dazed, disconnecting from the story and returning to reality.
Smiling almost sadly, she closes the book and tucks it beneath her arm for later.
We gather by the door, boots and sneakers being pulled on, jackets shrugged into place.
Rhys stands slightly apart, his shoulders back and expression carefully neutral as Sienna thanks us again for helping with breakfast. He nods, uncomfortable with praise, his hands shoved into the pocket of his sweatshirt like he’s unsure where to put them when he’s not fighting or fucking or guarding something precious.
That’s when the little girl appears again, breaking free from her mother’s side with surprising confidence.
She pads across the hardwood floor in socked feet and tugs on the hem of Rhys’ sweatshirt, small fingers curling into the fabric.
Every muscle in his body goes still. I watch him brace for something unexpected, then soften when she holds up a folded piece of paper.
Inside, there’s a drawing of crayon lines and uneven petals, a young artist's attempt at a pink rose.
He crouches down slowly so he’s eye level with her, his movements careful so as to not scare her. Something flickers across his face that I don’t have a name for. Shock, maybe, or grief. Or a version of tenderness he keeps buried so deep, even he forgets it’s there.
“You drew this for me?” he asks quietly, his voice stripped of its usual edge.
She nods, curls bouncing, eyes bright now instead of afraid.
Rhys takes the drawing like it’s something fragile, like it might fall apart if he grips it too hard.
“It’s beautiful. Thank you,” he tells her, and I swear his throat works around the words.
Rhys hesitates, then adds, “You’re very brave.
I know I look rather scary, but someone is showing me that I don’t have to be. ”
Despite being unaware of his statement, Harper’s eyes shine from where she stands.
The girl beams, then darts back to her mother’s side, her mission complete.
Rhys stays crouched for a beat longer than necessary before standing, clearing his throat and folding the picture carefully, sliding it into the pocket of his sweater.
Without comment, we leave together as a unit.
Addy slips her hand into Harper’s, still half asleep but smiling.
Harper shifts instinctively to Rhys’ side, her fingers brushing his wrist tentatively.
He glances down at her, something unspoken passing between them.
I take up the rear with the bags, content to oversee those I’ve come to care for.
Being the protector of our small group of misfits no longer feels like a chore, but like something I chose.
Something I’m good at. I’ve found my purpose, and no matter what awaits us at Waversea, I’ll keep us all safe.
That’s the man Jeremy raised me to be, and I hope I’m finally making him proud.