Chapter 28
Chapter Twenty-Eight
RHYS
I would rather be anywhere than here. Weighted down with heaviness, my legs are like two pillars of concrete, doing everything in their power to slow down the inevitable.
To walk headlong into the past I ran away from.
“I think this is it.” Dani points at a hallway that looks like all the others we passed. “The waiting room is at the end.”
Her grip is steady on my hand as we shuffle down, passing rooms I’m too freaked out to look into. Money may buy you the privilege of a private room—of course, Dad has one—but the end game in a hospital is the same whatever number lives in your bank account.
Thank Christ for Dani.
We stopped in Manning Park three hours ago for a bathroom break and a quick nap. She asked how I was holding up. By then, exhaustion had kicked in, my foundational walls crumbling, and I was a mess, admitting I was nervous as hell. She kissed my trembling chin and whispered, “Whatever you need. I’m here.”
I’m trying to act like I’m not a basket of nerves and center myself before we hang a right and step into the waiting room. Fluorescent lights buzz at that annoying level of high-end fatigue, adding a layer of tension to the blank white coolness of the room. Sawyer watches the morning news on a tiny TV mounted to the wall. Almost approachable in sweats and high-tops.
But he faces the other direction and doesn't see us walk in.
JC does.
And his face lights up as soon as he sees me.
“Little buddy,” he pushes himself out of the sad, worn chair with that famous winning smile, “you made it.”
He’s gotten lankier, his face bristled with a beard, and he sports gold hoops in both ears, but some things never change. Our bond is ironclad. As timeless as his uniform of jeans, Converse, and leather jacket.
We lock in a tight hug, and I bury my face into his neck. He smells like dryer sheets and some fancy cologne.
“Fuck, man,” I mutter. “It’s good to see you.”
We disengage, and JC playfully ruffles my hair while Sawyer flicks a cool gaze in my direction. “Morning.”
“How goes it?” I ask, both of us remarkably civil, considering we smacked each other with Mike Tyson shots two days ago.
“As good as it can be.”
His gaze drifts to Dani with a look of reproach—like she should be at his side and not mine. She offers a brief smile and hello while JC tips his head in her direction, implying introductions, please.
“Shit,” I say with a sheepish grin. “Right. Dani, this is JC.”
Dani smiles, a little starstruck. “Hi. I’ve heard so much about you.”
Do they shake hands or embrace? Dani looks unsure, but JC solves that problem. He’s our resident hugger.
“Nice to meet the woman my brother can’t stop yapping about.” He shoots me a wink over her shoulder, unbothered by my hot glare. Forever the shit disturber.
“Where’s Mom?” I ask because her signature perfume, Cool Water, lingers brightly in the stale medicinal air.
“Rhys,” a familiar lilting voice says from behind me.
I spin around as Dani untangles herself from JC to observe how I cope with this reunion. Mom’s eyes widen before they soften into something painfully tender. Silver hair swept back, and very put together for nine a.m., she is the classic Shaughnessy matron in pinstriped slacks and cream blouse, clutching a Styrofoam cup with what has to be the world’s worst coffee.
Despite our Zoom calls, seeing her in person throws me off. A round-shouldered heaviness has replaced the steel of her posture. Worry and grief have permanently etched her features.
But she’s still fucking beautiful.
Even with tears streaming down her cheeks.
“Hi, Mom.”
“You’re so tall,” she whispers. “And you look so much like your father.”
JC gives me a shove in her direction. “Hug already, will ya? Sheesh. It’s only been what? Sixteen years?”
I step forward, my arms hesitating mid-air as if seeking permission before fully committing. Mom closes the gap between us, allowing me to embrace her. She’s stiff at first, as if her reciprocity might mean I disintegrate before her eyes. Then her fingers grip the fabric of my hoodie, holding on like she’s afraid to let go. In her arms, time spins backward. Her warm, steady touch was always the quiet assurance I needed. Mom cries softly, her frame so fragile as I rub away the shudders, careful with the fine silk of her blouse.
Sawyer watches us, the tension in his shoulders as rigid as the silence. JC was the apple of Dad’s eye—the musician he always wanted to be. Mom doted on me. That left stoic, dependable Sawyer with the leftover scraps of their affection.Perhaps that turned him into the steely authority figure that has always made him the glue keeping our family together.
Very slowly, with Mom resisting, I ease out of our hug to introduce Dani.
Mom acknowledges her with a watery smile. “Pardon me,” she wipes away mascara streaks with the back of her hand, “I’m a little overwhelmed.”
Dani nods, handling the situation like a pro. “Pleasure to meet you, Marilyn. Although I wish it could be under different circumstances.”
Mom reaches for Dani's shoulder, her voice thick when she says, “Thank you for bringing him home.”
“Well.” JC claps his hands together, bringing us out of the emotional cloud. “You two must be beat, driving all night.”
He throws the question at Dani, who looks anything but. Ridiculously hot in her glasses, hair in a messy ponytail, and stunning without makeup. He flashes that smile, and I feel a surge of irrational jealousy. My brother will go to the ends of the earth for me, but he can also have his tongue down any female throat in half an hour without even trying.
I inch closer to her, signaling , this one is mine.
Dani stifles the cutest yawn. “I am a little bleary,” she admits.
“Why don’t you scoot home and get some sleep?” I suggest. As much as she’s a trooper, who wants to hang out in a hospital and watch someone you don’t know drool all over themselves?
“Okay,” she says. “Text me whenever.I’ll pick you up.”
“Are you two staying at the house?” Mom asks, quick to intervene, looking at me for the answer she wants.
Dani and I never discussed where I’d crash. The Trenton mansion has enough rooms to house a hockey team. And JC has a sweet bachelor pad on the water, overlooking Stanley Park. But if I can lie beside Dani tonight in her condo, I’ll take that, thank you very much.
But I can’t crush Mom’s hopes right now.
I peck Dani on the cheek. “I’ll keep you posted. Leave your phone on.”
I wish I could say it all went like clockwork after that. The Trenton family unified. Me and Dani snuggling after sex in her bed, bellies full of sushi. Hope for a better future shining bright.
Not the ring of my phone shattering the silence, and Sawyer grumbling, “Typical.”
Or me skimming the screen to see Evelyn’s name with a sense of foreboding. Dani had texted earlier to inform her of our midnight emergency run. She’s probably calling for an update.
Or so I hope.
“Mornin’, Evelyn,” I say for the benefit of Dani, her head tilted. Curious.
“Rhys,” Evelyn says, her infamous cigarettes-after-sex voice sounding grittier than usual. “Are you two in Vancouver?”
“Yeah. We just got to the hospital. Sorry, but I can’t talk long.”
The silence that follows carries a weight. And it isn't a peaceful silence. It buzzes through the phone like static before a storm.
“Oh dear,” she says. “I’m sorry to interrupt you, but we have a situation.”
“Jesus, Rhys!” Sawyer fumes, throwing his arms wide. “Can you, for once, not be the full-fledged fuck-up?”
“What?” I shout back. “You think I planned this?”
“That would mean you have the foresight to plan. Not live day to day with your head in the goddamned clouds.” His chest heaves with a disgusted sigh. “Why would you trust that woman to be alone with your stuff?”
JC motions at Sawyer to settle down. “Bro, chill. Both of you. Keep it down. We don’t need a scene.”
“I can’t be calm,” I say, halfway to hysterics. “How do I fix this?”
Other than I can’t.
“Maybe you should have thought of that sooner,” Sawyer yells. “Before our mother ends up in the bathroom on the edge of a nervous breakdown.”
I had no choice but to share the disastrous news with everyone. They all stared at me, the scandalized gasps yet to come. Not only did Myla swipe my journal, but she ditched Kelowna and detoured back to Osoyoos where she and Tomas hooked up at a coffee shop.
When Evelyn shared that news, I felt my blood coagulate. She had mentioned Tomas parading around with a woman during her visit with Nicole and me. Her description of a half-dressed European ditz should have set off every alarm in my head.
Because what do you get whentwo scheming weirdos hell-bent on revenge collude?
The end of the world.
In the form of photocopies of my illicit drawings plastered on every business door in Osoyoos. My innermost, dirtiest thoughts stapled to telephone poles. And scrawled over the top in flaming red ink were Tomas’s twisted call to arms:
Nero Vino is a disgrace.
Boycott Evelyn.
Is this how Nero Vino promotes their wine???
And so on.
Mom swooned and started to hyperventilate, prompting Dani to escort her to the bathroom. And I stood there with the universe crashing down around me, shame-faced for being such a fool. We skirted the topic of my drawings on the drive down. That was my entry point. I should have prepped Dani for the worst.
I should have done a lot of things differently.
Like, not sleep with a Crazy.
To have this hit Dani in the face like a plateful of scissors is the lowlight of my life so far, and I've had plenty. I feel sick to my stomach and turn away from Sawyer's wrath and endless disappointment. Nero Vino and Evelyn so disgustingly discredited when she has been nothing but a champion for me swallows me alive in guilt. And my Instagram account is a damn firework show, the hits coming and coming. Myla tagged me and Dani in her revenge postings, and the algorithms have shut down the most depraved pictures, but the damage is done.
Why does this have to happen when I'm an emotional wreck, about to face my father, or what's left of him, for the first time in years?
Dani suddenly reappears, pale as milk, shoulders concave with defeat.
“Where’s our mother?” Sawyer immediately asks.
“Taking a moment,” Dani says. “It’s a lot to process.” She wheels around to face me. “I just spoke with Evelyn. She asked Francis and Rita to rip down what they can.”
Christ. Why didn’t I think of that? Maybe I am that useless. And Rita agreeing to help me?If that doesn't throw the morning on its head.
“What else did she say?” I press.
Dani retreats a step, and the subconscious movement rings deep in my hollow bones. “She thinks it’s a good idea for you to stay down here. And definitely no posting. About anything.”
JC takes a seat and blows out a long, decompressing breath. “And I thought touring was stressful.”
Sawyer’s acidic expression changes into something calculating, like he’s just been reminded of something. “I need to smooth things over with Evelyn. Let her know that one part of the Trenton clan can deliver without a monumental shit show.”
“That’s your concern?” I snort, anger coating my skin.
“It’s one of them,” he glowers back. “Aside from keeping the company afloat, I also ensure my two brothers have a pipeline of money flowing to them. But thanks for lightening my load. Good luck getting a gig after this.”
He shoulders past me, knocking me hard enough that I stumble back. JC watches him storm out and then rises to his feet with a weary sigh.
“I’ll deal with him,” he mutters. “You and Dani sort out Mom.”
JC goes off in search of Sawyer, leaving Dani and I squared and facing each other. Every line of her body speaks of uncertainty.
Sparks of despair flicker around my brain. “How is she?”
“Devastated,” Dani says, her voice colorless.
My body feels leaden. All I can manage is a small, helpless shrug. “I’m so sorry. This is horrible.”
The breath she draws in sounds painful. “She really is a Crazy, huh?”
“Whatever you do, don’t look at the photos, okay? Don’t feed the insanity.”
“You need to talk to your mom.” Dani fidgets with her hands in a detached, distant way, and I feel this numbness consuming me. “I'm going to go home now.”
My tattered heart wilts. Will Mom be anything other than repulsed? Her youngest son reappears, delivered to her by a dark-haired angel she had already envisioned, I could tell, in a wedding dress. And I upend her moment of motherly glory with this?
She won’t understand. Mom never understood my struggles with women. She figured a man with looks had the world at his feet, the pick of the crop, like how the great Peter Trenton rolled. Not a wallflower who became more and more isolated with his increasing fame.
“Can I see you later?” I ask. Hopeful, borderline desperate.
Dani bites her lip. Even a reluctant maybe would prevent my future mental health from imploding. A hard no, and I may never recover from the damage I've created from one careless moment.
I cross both sets of fingers, feeling light-headed, unaware my lungs have stopped working.
Finally, she says, “Let’s play it by ear, okay?”