Chapter 18
eighteen
The gravel crunched beneath my flip-flops.
The driveway was next to the cottage and offered a clear view of the lake between the trees, the water reflecting the orange and pink sunset beautifully.
The air carried a cool, cedar-scented bite that made me take a long breath through my nose, feeling rejuvenated even after the long drive.
The cottage was massive—a sprawling structure finished in dark brown siding with crisp white trim around an absurd number of windows, all of which were huge.
Sharp gables jutted up toward the pine canopy, and a high-pitched A-frame glass wall dominated the lake-facing center of the house.
A wooden wrap-around deck surrounded it, with steps leading up to the front door.
“Not bad, huh?” Rhys asked. He swung both of our duffel bags over his shoulder like they weighed nothing at all, his hand dropping casually to the small of my back as he led me toward the front steps. The heat of his palm sank straight through my sweater.
The inside looked exactly as I expected—dark hardwood floors, exposed timber beams on the ceiling, anchored by a floor-to-ceiling stone fireplace that looked like it had been built using rocks pulled straight from the lakebed.
A long, polished wooden dining table that led into an open-concept kitchen with warm oak cabinetry and a wide breakfast bar.
It was grand, but it didn’t feel like a museum.
It felt even more lived-in than his house, with flip-flops in a pile by the back door, towels hanging from hooks in the sunroom, stacks of worn board games on a side table, and the unmistakable smell of roasted garlic filling the air.
“Hey guys,” Justin’s voice came from the opposite direction of the kitchen.
I looked over and saw him and Kelcey cuddling on the couch.
Kelcey’s hair was pulled up in a claw clip and she was wearing a linen shirt unbuttoned over a white bikini, like she’d already been down to the dock and only just came back up. “Traffic bad?”
“Crawled through Barrie, but otherwise fine,” Rhys replied casually, his hand slipping down to rest firmly on my hip bone. He squeezed slightly, a silent command for me to play along.
I leaned into him, resting my shoulder against his chest, and smiled. “It wasn’t too bad. We had great music.”
Kelcey rolled her eyes. “Yeah, Rhys’s road trip playlists are something. He used to force me to listen to those terrible nineties grunge tracks every time we drove anywhere near the lake.”
“Actually,” I said happily, “he let me pick the music. Even said I had good taste, though I didn’t play any nineties grunge.”
I tilted my head to look up at him “lovingly” and he grinned down at me, matching the energy exactly.
“Well, it’s so nice you finally made it up here, Ainsley,” Kelcey said, taking a sip from her tumbler. “I know Rhys has brought a lot of people up over the years, but it’s always so funny watching someone try to navigate the house for the very first time. You must feel totally lost.”
The subtle jab hung in the air—a delicate little reminder that she had been here before, that she knew the layout, she was part of the history, while I was just the clueless newcomer being shown around. Rhys’s fingers tightened on my hip.
“She’ll do just fine,” Rhys said, his tone cool and untroubled as he stared at his ex-girlfriend. “She’s with me. And honestly, she looks like she belongs in this living room more than anyone else ever has.”
“Ainsley!” Rhys’s step-mum called from the kitchen just then, cutting in with the practiced skill of a mother who dealt with these arguments every day. “It’s so nice to see you. Rhys, why don’t you show her where she’ll be staying?”
For a second, I expected Rhys to stay and continue the argument with Kelcey, but instead, he slipped his hand into mine and tugged me gently down the hall.
As soon as we were up the stairs and out of earshot of the main room, I let out a long, shaky breath and leaned against the wood wall of the hallway.
“You’re a menace,” I whispered, looking up at him. “Did you see her face?”
Rhys leaned his shoulder against the wall next to me, a dark, satisfied smirk spreading across his lips. “I saw it. And you played along beautifully, Ainsley. You’re getting dangerously good at this.”
“I have to be,” I muttered, my stomach fluttering as he stepped closer, trapping me gently between the frame and the pine wall. “Otherwise Justin’s going to figure out I’m full of it, and then my brother will find out I lied about everything, and my life will be over.”
“Nobody’s finding out anything,” Rhys said softly, his eyes searching mine. “I’ve got you.”
I swallowed hard, my heart pounding against my ribs. “Okay,” I whispered.
“Okay,” he repeated gently. He reached down, grabbed my bag again, and gestured down the hall. “Tour time. Let’s go see where you’re sleeping.”
“So,” I said, trying to regain my footing as we walked down the hall, “how long has your family had this place? Kelcey made it sound like she practically built it herself.”
Rhys let out a dry, quiet chuckle. “My dad bought this place when I was eight,” he said, his voice taking on a warmer, softer tone than usual.
“Long before Carolyn, Justin, and Leah came into the picture. Long before Kelcey, too, despite what she likes to pretend. It was just a tiny, run-down wooden cabin back then. My dad and my uncle spent three summers gutting the whole thing, rebuilding the frame, laying the stone for the fireplace by hand. I used to sleep on a pull-out couch in the main room while they worked on the roof.” He stopped in front of a heavy pine door near the end of the east hallway and pushed it open. “This is you.”
I walked into the room and caught my breath.
The bedroom was bathed in golden, late-evening light.
The walls were clad in vertical, warm-toned wood paneling that gave the space a cozy, timeless cabin feel.
Two dark-wood twin beds with tall, carved bedposts sat side-by-side against the far wall, dressed in crisp white linens and rich, rustic plaid quilts in shades of burgundy, navy, and cream.
“It’s beautiful, Rhys,” I said, walking over to touch the edge of one of the hand-carved bedposts. “It feels so... classic.”
“It’s the original guest room,” Rhys said, tossing my canvas duffel onto the bench at the foot of the left bed.
“My dad refused to modernize it at all.” He paused, rubbing the back of his neck.
“Sorry about the twin beds, by the way. We mostly use this room for my younger cousins. And I’d say you can sleep in my room, but my dad’s pretty traditional about sleeping arrangements when we have girlfriends over. ”
“It’s completely fine,” I said. But where I thought I should feel relief at not having to share a room with him for appearances, I was instead washed over by a bizarre feeling of disappointment.
Rhys grinned, leaning his hip against the nightstand. “And don’t get too comfortable. We still have the rest of the estate to inspect.”
“The estate?” I laughed. “It’s a cottage, Montgomery.”
“It’s a compound,” he corrected solemnly. “And as your official host, it’s my duty to show you every single square inch so you don’t get lost when Kelcey tries to test your knowledge later.”
“Well in that case, lead the way,” I said, gesturing back to the hall.
We headed back toward the main hub of the cottage. As we passed the kitchen, Carolyn waved us through, busy plating up grilled chicken cutlets and fresh corn on the cob.
“Don’t take her too far, Rhys,” she called out. “Dinner is in ten!”
“Just doing the quick lap, step-mom!” Rhys called back, guiding me through the heavy glass sliding doors that led out onto the main deck.
The heat hit us again, but out here, elevated twenty feet above the lake level, a steady, cool breeze blew off the water, rustling the tops of the massive white pines surrounding the property.
The deck was made of smooth, grey composite wood, furnished with a long outdoor dining table, a massive stainless-steel grill, and several plush lounge chairs overlooking the water.
From this vantage point, I could see the full expanse of the property.
The forest sloped gently downward toward a rugged shore made of rocks, which was broken only by the massive wooden dock and boathouse.
To the right of the main house, nestled among the pine trees near the edge of the granite ledge, was a separate, smaller building made of dark charcoal wood and glass.
“What’s that over there?” I asked, pointing toward the smaller structure. “A guest house?”
Rhys’s only answer was to grab my hand and pull me in that direction. As we got closer, I realized the building was modern, with three solid dark-wood walls and one massive wall made entirely of floor-to-ceiling glass paneling that faced directly out over the sparkling lake.
Rhys reached the door, unlatched the heavy black handle, and pushed it open, stepping back to let me inside. I stepped over the threshold and stopped dead in my tracks, my jaw practically dropping.
“A gym?” I asked, spinning around in a circle. The place wasn’t huge, but it was big enough to fit some machines, a rack of dumbbells, a bench, and some rolled out yoga mats. The floor was covered in thick, heavy-duty black gym matting.
“It used to be a bunkie,” Rhys said. “The old owners of the cottage had a bunch of grandkids so it was just bunk-beds, but since we’re all athletes, we decided to turn it into this instead.”
“This is insane, Rhys,” I said, walking over to the glass wall. The view from here was breathtaking—you could sit on the rowing machine and look straight out over the open water as the sun hit the waves. “My family has a rusty treadmill in our basement that we use to hang laundry on.”
Rhys grinned. “Well, we can’t start slacking on our gym routines now. Don’t you want to keep showing off to Kelcey how many times I can lift you?”
I laughed as I remembered that first gym visit, which felt like forever ago now, when he’d bench pressed me like I weighed nothing.
Clearly remembering the same moment, Rhys came up behind me and softly put his hands on my hips as he murmured in my ear, “Should we try again? I bet I can beat my record.”
My breath caught in my throat and my heart thudded. For a long, heart-stopping second, neither of us moved. The sound of the wind outside rustling the pine branches seemed to fade away entirely, leaving only the feeling of Rhys’s warm hands on me.
He reached out, his long fingers gently catching a stray lock of hair that had fallen in my face, tucking it tenderly behind my ear. His hand lingered against the side of my neck, his thumb resting right over my thumping pulse.
“Ainsley,” he murmured, his voice low and raspy. “I—”
“RHYSSSSS! AINSLEY! DINNER!” Leah’s shrill voice echoed across the property from the top deck, shattering the moment like glass.
Rhys froze, letting out a soft, breathy curse against his breath. He gently his forehead lightly against my shoulder, before pulling back. The heat of his touch left my skin lingering, cold and tingling in the lake breeze.
He gave me a small, crooked smile that looked a little raw around the edges.
“Duty calls,” he said softly, offering me his hand once more. “Let’s go eat some chicken before Leah eats it all.”
I took his hand, my mind spinning, my chest tight, and my heart completely, utterly ruined. As we walked out of the gym and back up the stone path toward the house, one terrifying thought echoed through my mind, louder than the wind, louder than the waves:
This wasn’t fake anymore. Not for me. And maybe—just maybe—not for him either.