Chapter 30
Chapter thirty
Noah
My parents leave after Rhys threatened to call the police. I'm ashamed it got that far. At work. To come to my workplace and refuse to leave is so unprofessional. They just want the attention. And they’ve ruined everything.
Tree's hand reaches across and rests on my arm.
“Breathe, it's over.”
“I can't believe they did that.” I breathe slowly, forcing my lungs to behave.
“You handled it very well. If I ever doubted you performing under pressure, you've proven yourself today.”
My hands unclenched a little as I let her reassurance wash over me. The clinic noise is returning to normal again; phones ringing, kennels rattling, someone laughing in the staffroom. Just an ordinary day in a veterinary practice.
Except my parents just staged a scene in the middle of it.
Rhys walks back in, looking angrier than I feel. His jaw is tight in a way I’m starting to recognize.
“They're sitting in the car park,” he says. “I told them you wouldn't be finished for several hours. I know you need to check Figgy and the pups.”
“Actually,” I decide, surprising myself. “I'll check in on them now, but Chloe can handle it. We can go home.”
Calling his place home makes him smile, and he agrees immediately.
I slip into the night nurse's room to check on Chloe. Figgy is still panting softly on the bed, Chloe beside her like a devoted midwife.
“You've got this,” I tell her quietly.
Figgy lifts her head and thumps her tail once. Chloe nods, focused and calm. The pups are warm and quiet.
For the first time in years, I walk away from a whelping bitch without the constant fear that something will go wrong the moment I leave.
Closing the door is still harder than I expected.
Every instinct in my body screams not to leave. To scoop up the puppies, to sit beside Figgy all night, to watch every breath until the last one is born.
But instead I join Rhys by the back door and sneak out toward his house.
“And so you've met my parents,” I say.
I can't think of a worse time or place.
Or worse parents.
“I have,” he agrees calmly.
“Sorry about that.”
“I won't return the gesture,” he replies. “You won't ever meet my parents.”
I instantly want to ask if they're dead.
Did he kill them?
Did they make him into someone who could?
“I left home at eighteen because I was so fed up with…” I trail off.
Fed up with what?
Being invisible.
They were always talking about me. Bragging about me. Planning things for me.
But they never actually saw me.
“Me too,” Rhys says simply.
I nod and let the subject drop.
“I want to eat dinner at your giant dining table knowing they're sitting on the other side of the car park,” I grin. “They're doing all this because they want to be on TV, so they can tell the world how much they love me. How proud they are.”
“No chance,” Rhys growls, that dangerous flash in his eyes.
“Thank you.”
I have an odd urge to throw socks at him again, but we haven't eaten yet and I want my silent victory.
As we get settled into cooking, the tension slowly drains away.
Rhys moves around the kitchen like he owns every inch of it, which, technically, he does. The counters gleam. The knives are lined up like surgical instruments.
He reaches across me for a knife he definitely doesn't need.
I bump his hip reaching for a plate I don’t need.
It's innocent.
Flirty.
Warm.
The kind of normal I never thought I'd get to have.
When the meal is ready, we each carry our own plate and a glass of wine into the dining room.
Drinking wine at home with a meal feels ridiculously grown-up.
At the farm, dinner was usually something eaten standing up between kennels.
Here there's a table.
Plates.
Wine glasses.
A man across from me who threatened to call the police on my parents without hesitation.
I feel… protected.
Rhys lifts his glass, but his attention flicks briefly toward the dining-room window.
It's the first time I've noticed that from this seat you can see the entire car park through the trees.
He doesn’t say anything about it. He doesn’t need to. His eyes move back to me, calm and focused, like he’s already decided nothing out there matters.
But the glance tells me everything.
He’s still watching.
For me. Not them.
“So what happens now?” I ask hesitantly.
“We tell the production team that your parents are not to be interviewed,” Rhys replies immediately. “If any news channel does it anyway, they lose future access.”
“I… uh…” I take a swig of my wine. “I meant about us. Do I still sleep in the spare room?”
“Are you planning to throw socks at my head?”
“I just want to sleep.”
“With me?”
“Yes. I feel safe with you.”
Which is the craziest thing I've ever said.
I know this man is dangerous, but I trust him more than anyone I've met.
Maybe it's because I know his demons.
I know he's debated killing me and let me live.
“Sleep where you like, as long as it's not with the puppies.”
“That would involve sleeping with Chloe. And Figgy. No offence to her, but I've delivered quite enough night pups.”
A grin creeps across Rhys's face. Like I've made the right decision, but maybe for the wrong reasons.
“Come on. Let's watch a film that doesn't have dogs in it.”
Rhys collects the plates and carries them to the kitchen. I linger for a moment, finishing the last of my wine.
Through the dining-room window, I can see the edge of the car park lights beyond the trees.
My parents are probably still out there. Sitting in their car. Waiting for me to come running after them like I always used to.
I set the empty glass down.
For the first time in my life, I don’t feel the need to go.
Rhys appears in the doorway, leaning casually against the frame.
“You coming?”
I nod, pushing away from the table.
“Yes.” I’m not, and I follow him anyway.