Chapter Twenty Nine
By the fourth motel, I stop learning the names of the towns.
They blur together in the same palette of flickering vacancy signs, threadbare carpets that smell faintly of bleach and old smoke, and parking lots lit by sodium lamps that hum all night like insects you can’t swat.
The truck has become the only constant. Addy and I fill the back seat with verbal trash or laughter that’s too loud in between dozing and snacking, all while Clayton draws us closer to our destination.
Whatever it takes to ignore the building strain of heading to a place we’re no longer welcome.
Phillip might not think we would return to the academy, since Rhys no longer has access to the jet, but I doubt that would stop him from personally unenrolling each of us.
Rhys anticipates being evicted from the frat house, barring him from campus.
I bet Clayton can kiss his scholarship goodbye, the state of my education was already up in the air, and all of that is fine.
We don't need Phillip Waversea. We don't need handouts or permission. As long as we're together, bolstering and caring for one another, we will find space. We’ll demand the right to exist.
In the spirit of family, I pull out my phone and text my Aunt, lying that everything is going as well as it should be.
Perhaps it's a blessing that she's too busy with her cats to watch the news or fuss over me, and I'm more than happy to leave her blissfully unaware of the current state of my life.
She replies with a thumbs up and a heart emoji, no doubt juggling tins of cat food and tripping over impatient tails.
Beside me in the back seat, Addy perks up, a smile creeping across her lips as she peers out the window.
I follow her gaze, blinking as familiarity starts to seep in.
The town surrounding the Waversea grounds unfolds slowly, like a walk back through a memory that remains unchanged.
Low brick storefronts with faded awnings line the main road, their windows displaying handwritten signs and sun-bleached posters for events long past. There’s a bakery on the corner with fogged glass and a bell above the door, a diner with cracked vinyl booths that students stumble into after late practices.
Trees arch over the streets as we get closer, their branches heavy and mature, roots buckling the sidewalks they’ve claimed as their own.
Then the campus rises into view, ivy crawling up academic buildings that look more like estates than places of learning. Turning away from the lecture halls and courtyards, Clay takes the tarmac road behind the dorm buildings that leads to the frat houses.
I hadn’t anticipated the way my heart would seize or how violently the memories would come rushing back, uninvited and sharp.
My body reacts before my mind can catch up.
I shrink back into the seat, pressing my shoulder into the door, fixing my gaze anywhere but the parking lot passing on the left.
More specifically, the stretch of asphalt where Kenneth found me, red-eyed, shaking, and all too trusting.
In a sense, that spot feels haunted now, crowded with echoes that make my skin prickle.
I swallow hard, my throat tightening as if my body is trying to protect me by closing in on itself.
The row of frat houses looms ahead, Rhys’ house at the far end of the street.
Up front, the boys quietly discuss logistics.
I catch fragments of it. Hidden keys, back porch, automated garage doors, security reset.
Words that should be reassuring, but only make the pressure in my chest spike.
My hands start to shake. I tug my receivers off and drop them into my lap, the sudden silence doing little to help when my own thoughts are screaming.
This was the last place on campus that I saw them together, their eyes sunken and hopes shattered.
It’s been easy to forget what was left behind when we’ve been filling our time with drinking and playing games, testing boundaries and pushing limits.
Easy to forget how I looked them both in the face and stated there would be no future in which I would choose.
Sure, we may have found a way to come together now, but at what cost?
Even though they’ve managed to rebuild themselves to fit around my wants and desires, I still broke them first. The guilt is sudden and unexpected, seeming to have no place in this car but consuming my thoughts all the same.
I don’t even realise we’ve parked until my door is yanked open, Clayton’s brows furrowing at the way I’m chewing on my lower lip.
“You okay?” he mouths, noticing the receivers in my lap a moment too late. Raising his hands to sign, I quickly take them in my own, clutching to his warm palms for strength.
“I’m fine, promise,” I manage a small smile.
Clay doesn’t seem convinced as he watches me click my receivers back into place, promising myself that I’ll be present for this.
Hopping out of the truck, my feet hit the concrete of the garage.
The bulb above us is still flickering to life, the chill of night seeping beneath the automated door before it closes.
It’s not an accident that we entered campus under the cloak of darkness.
Addy is the only one of us who has kept up to date on the student forum, and apparently, there were still reporters hanging around earlier today.
What they’re waiting or hoping for is beyond me, but I’m sure as shit not going to give it to them.
I hover close to Clay without meaning to, my fingers brushing his sleeve, grounding myself in the familiar weight of him.
He glances down at me, the pinch in his expression softening just a fraction.
Exiting through the back, we circle around the side of the house to the porch cloaked in shadow.
The wood creaks underfoot as if protesting our return.
Rhys crouches near a loose board, reaching beneath the step.
Retracting his hand, the chrome key glints against his skin, a loaded exhale shifting his shoulders.
We enter the house without incident, all of us looking around as if anticipating a jump scare.
“Well, that was anticlimactic," Addy says suddenly from behind me, meaning I find my jump-scare after all. Glaring at her, she shrugs against the thick straps of her bag. “I guess I’ll be off.
“Wait, you’re not staying here? With us?” I blink rapidly whilst Rhys tells her not to let the door hit her ass on the way out. Addy ignores Rhys, her dimples catching as she smirks at me knowingly.
“I think I’ve done enough fourth wheeling.
Besides, I haven’t seen Nikki in over a week.
You’re not the only one who needs to get laid.
” Addy’s eyes drop to the yellow bruise I know to be on the fleshy part of my neck where Rhys bit me the other night.
He’s been truly insatiable, and it's been noticed that Clay has stepped back to let it happen. I just don’t know how to break it to Clay that Rhys isn’t working me out of his system, he only seems to be getting hungrier for more.
“What happened to laying low and not giving Phillip a heads up on where we’ve gone?” Clay asks Addy, to which she rolls her eyes.
“Phillip Waversea doesn’t have any issue with me.”
“You drank his Chateau Blanc and called him a murderer,” Rhys points out bluntly.
I catch the ghost of appreciation flash across Rhys’ features before he locks it down tight.
He’s impressed, and probably annoyed that he didn’t do it first. Stepping forward, Addy puts her hands on my shoulders, her mind made up either way.
“I have a life to get back to. One that my mother won’t let me fall behind on.
If Phillip has an issue with me attending this academy, he’s welcome to take it up with her, but if you think I’m a force of nature, you do not want to meet my mom.
” Pulling me into a hug, Addy squeezes me tighter than a simple goodbye.
This feels more like the end of something that barely started.
Shifting my hair behind my ear, she murmurs beside my receiver, “Stay safe, and by that I mean, use protection. The world doesn’t need another Rhys. ”
I bark a laugh despite myself, banishing the urge to cry that was creeping up on me. Addy lingers for half a second longer, her hands still on my upper arms like she’s memorizing the feel of me, like she’s bracing herself to walk back into the version of Waversea she had before me.
“Text me when you get there,” I murmur as a precaution.
Addy hums her agreement, already stepping back.
Swinging her bag higher on her shoulder, she shoots a two-finger salute in Rhys’ direction, whose hand is already braced on the door to shut her out.
The cool night air is slipping inside, and for a moment, Addy is framed by the porch light, unapologetically confident as usual.
“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” she calls back, pausing just long enough to wink when Clay snorts, and Rhys scoffs. “Actually, do. Just don’t get arrested.” Then she’s gone, her footsteps retreating into the dark, swallowed by the quiet left in her absence.
The door clicks shut with a finality that settles deep in my bones.
I stare at it, my reflection faint in the glass before Clay’s hand finds the small of my back.
The house feels bigger now, emptier in a way I didn’t think possible.
One less heartbeat moving through it. One less voice filling the space.
Rhys exhales slowly, scrubbing a hand over his face before straightening, his shoulders squaring like he’s bracing himself for whatever comes next.
It’s just the three of us again, standing in a house that’s never been called a home.
Lingering on the edge of a cliff that will either see us fall or fly.