Chapter 63
When Rhys woke, his bed was empty. No, not his bed. He hadn’t even been back to his apartment since before they’d left for New Cresthill. He’d come straight over to Mel’s after getting off the bus.
He hadn’t planned to stay all night, but the sun burned through a gap in the blinds of a window. Apparently he’d done exactly that. There was a rattling out in the kitchen and a low laugh. He thought that was Mel’s voice. It was a Monday morning, surely they had places they needed to be.
Like work. Just because Rhys had Mondays off didn’t mean other people did. Hell, he should get some light practice in himself. If Maggie thought he was up to it.
Mel shouldn’t be changing their whole schedule around because he hadn’t woken up and gotten out of their hair yet. He rolled off the bed and grabbed his jeans where he’d dropped them the night before when they’d come back to bed.
He’d kept his shirt on, though. With Mel’s siblings down the hallway, he hadn’t felt right starting anything.
Even if Mel laughed at him when he’d said as much.
He’d been thankful Mel hadn’t tossed him out when it was obvious their mother disapproved.
Especially when they’d seen how pathetic he was.
They’d left the lamp on.
“You are not weak.”
Rhys wished he could believe that. He was letting things that happened a decade ago affect his life. He’d stood there while Craig railed at him. A part of him had been ready to say fine, he’d do whatever they wanted. If Craig would just leave him alone.
If Alfie hadn’t been there, he might have reverted to the lost boy he’d been at one time and do anything to still be considered part of a family.
You have us. Alfie told Brock that a few months ago, when he’d stood up to his own family. That’s what the Ocelots were. A family. So why didn’t Rhys think the team would be there for him?
Because this is different, that nasty voice in his head said. No family has ever really wanted you. They’ve always seen you for the worthless loser you are. Why do you think this one will be any different? Why do you think Mel will be?
Mel wasn’t those families. They were different. Hadn’t they already proven that. They hadn’t made fun of him for needing a light on. They’d just accepted.
Sure, Mel wouldn’t want to keep him around, but they’d assured him they wanted him here now. That had to mean something. He’d take it for as long as it lasted. Even if it was only until he left this room.
When he stepped into the living room, he could see Mel standing off in the kitchen, Sonia on the other side of the counter, stirring something in a bowl, while Denny put paper muffin wrappers in a muffin pan.
He shifted, part of his brain screaming Run, run, run. He didn’t belong here. Not in a scene as… domestic as this. He should never have come here. He definitely shouldn’t have stayed.
Mel turned their head. “Hey, Rhys. Denny’s been climbing the walls wondering when you’d wake up.”
Rhys rubbed one thumb on the inside of his elbow and didn’t meet anyone’s gaze. “Sorry if I’m holding up your plans. You could have woken me.”
Mel shook their head and stepped away from the oven to walk over to him. They put one hand to the back of his head and kissed him quickly on the mouth before stepping back again. “No plans. I called off work today.”
“You didn’t have to do that.” The last thing Mel should be doing was changing their whole life for him.
“Don’t look so horrified. Frank’s been bugging me to take some time off. I thought after yesterday, we all could use a nice quiet morning.”
“We’re making corn muffins,” Sonia said as she scooped something from the bowl into the muffin cups.
“You make those?” Rhys asked. “They don’t just come from a supplier to a restaurant?”
Mel started to laugh, but Rhys could feel his cheeks heat. Why the hell had he ever said that?
“You haven’t ever had homemade corn muffins?” Denny asked. “Mel used to make them for us every weekend when they still lived at home. They came out of a blue box then, but they found a recipe for real cornbread when they were at college.”
“Best thing I got out of that experience,” Mel said before walking into the kitchen and opening the oven.
“Mom would say if you stuck with it, you would have gotten even more,” Sonia said.
“Yeah, Mom says a lot of things.” Denny slapped another pan down on the counter. “It doesn’t necessarily mean anything.”
“I should go,” Rhys said, his throat feeling dry. This scene was too… just too much for him. “You should have time with your siblings.”
“I hoped you’d show me some catching stances. You said you would,” Denny implored. “Even if Mom won’t ever let me sign up to play in school, she can’t control my life forever.”
“You want me to do that?” Rhys asked.
“Yes,” Denny said emphatically.
He supposed it did make sense. It was the one thing he was really good at. The least he could do after adding to their drama the night before—he imagined it would have gone easier if he hadn’t been there when Mel’s mother showed up—was use it to help them out.
“How would you like to practice on an actual field?”