by Danah Logan
She stares at me for a moment longer. Knowing her, she’s trying to figure out if I’m keeping something from her. I pull her back into a hug and whisper in her ear, "I’m fine. He didn’t hurt me, I promise. You will understand very soon."
One day, the entire truth will come out. I wonder if Natty will forgive me, if she’ll end up having some type of relationship with Nate. He would love having another little sister, even if they’re not related by blood. I smile to myself at the thought when Natty pulls back and studies my face once again with her head cocked to the side. Her gaze flicks to her brother and back to me. "You both look happy."
It's an odd statement from an almost eleven-year-old girl, but Natty has always been mature and more intuitive than most of my friends. "Well, I am happy. I'm home with you." I smile at her.
Her eyes narrow, and she glances at Rhys, who straightens his shoulders under the scrutiny of this little human in front of us. "So, you and Rhys can be together now?"
"Wha—?" Rhys’s eyes bulge out, and a choking sound comes from the doorway. Being so wrapped up in Natty, I didn't notice Heather and Tristen standing there. My mouth hangs open; all the words have left me. We all stare at the girl in front of us.
Heather makes the first move, stepping farther into the room. "What do you mean by that, love?"
Natty turns to her mother. "Well, Rhys loves Lilly, and the news said that Lilly is adopted. I heard Olivia's mom talk about it on the phone. You don't have to keep it a secret anymore." She turns back to me. "You love him, too, right? That's why you were always so sad when he wasn't home."
"I, uh…" I have no clue how to respond, and, in my confusion, I even make eye contact with Tristen, who's slack-jawed.
Rhys clears his throat. "Nat, um, how do you know all this?"
She looks innocently at all of us one after another. "I heard Mom and Dad talk about it."
Heather turns pale, and Tristen rubs his hands over his face before addressing his youngest. "Nat, when exactly did you hear us?"
She shrugs, eyeing her father. "I don't know—last year or so. I heard Mom crying in the living room when I came down to get more water after bedtime. She was upset that Rhys hadn't been home in a few days. You had another fight with Rhys about how he looked at Lilly. You told Mom that it was the only way to keep the secret." Natty looks between her parents before continuing, "Mom asked why you couldn't tell Lilly that she's adopted, that she is old enough to understand, and then Rhys could come home because he wouldn't have to lie about his feelings anymore. You told her it wasn’t safe."
"Oh God," Heather whispers, covering her mouth with one hand.
My lungs start burning, and I realize I’d held my breath as she was talking.
Safe for us?
Rhys gently touches Natty’s arm to get her attention to him. "Why haven’t you said anything?"
"Because it was a secret, duh. And I wasn’t supposed to be out of bed."
I can’t help but snort a laugh at that. Of course my ten-year-old sister knew about my adoption before I did.
Later, Tristen calls Rhys downstairs. I'm still digesting that Natty had picked up on all of it. We thought we were so good at pretending. But what has me more on edge is that she hasn't asked anything else about my time with Nate—I refuse to call it kidnapping anymore. Was my reassurance that she would soon understand enough? Does she know more than she told us?
I sit on the edge of my bed, flicking my thumb against the rest of my fingers. It's been twenty-one minutes since Rhys left to talk to his father. I have a sinking feeling in my stomach. Another ten or so minutes later, my bedroom door opens, and Rhys halts at the sight of me. Our eyes lock, and I know: something is wrong. He fails to put the mask in place in time.
"Tell me." My tone is flat.
Rhys sighs, crossing the distance between us, and squats down in front of me. Taking my hands in his, his thumb moves across my knuckles several times before he looks up at me through his lashes.
"I’m going back to school tomorrow."
My heart rate accelerates. "What about me?"
I forced myself earlier to look up the social media posts Katherine and her minions have been spreading on several different platforms. I don’t know if I have the energy to deal with Psycho Barbie yet.
"He said you could take as long as you want, but…" Rhys averts his eyes again.
"What?" I can barely hear his words over my pulse rushing in my ears.
"Camden—the FBI chick—wants to give an official statement. With you. The press is getting restless."
"NO!" The word comes out as a croak.
Rhys stands up and positions himself against the pillows, pulling me with him. I end up sideways between his legs, my shoulder against his chest, while my legs are draped over one of his. His arms wrap around my waist, and I nuzzle my head in the crook of his neck.
"Babe, the longer you hide, the more shit the idiots camping out on our front lawn pull out of their asses. The articles are getting more fucked up by the day—and I mean more-than-the-truth fucked up."
His hand has started moving up and down my spine in an attempt to calm my erratic breathing.
It’s not working.
I know he's right, but at the same time, I'm terrified I'm going to let something slip like with Heather and Tristen. It's a miracle they haven't followed up on what I meant by Henry not being my birth father.
Did they already know?
I press myself closer to Rhys and inhale deeply. His familiar scent in combination with the soothing movements on my back slowly calm my nerves.
"When?" I whisper as I fist his white t-shirt with my hand.
"Tomorrow morning. Before I leave for school." The worry in his tone is audible.
"Okay."
I don’t get any rest that night. Rhys fell asleep sometime after two in the morning.
We never had the long conversation with Heather about our relationship, and neither Rhys, nor I care. Especially not after they revealed how I lost my memory. Rhys has been sharing my bed since I got home, and I don’t even bother keeping the door open.
Once I'm sure that he's out, I sneak into the bathroom and open the cabinet under the sink. I don't turn on the light to avoid alerting the boy in my bed. The faint glow coming through the narrow window that's set high into the wall by the shower is all I need. Staring at the box of tampons for a minute, I contemplate what to do. I shouldn't.
Screw it.
I reach into the carton and pull out the burner phone that's hidden under several layers of feminine products.
The phone lights up, and I navigate until I have a new text message pulled up on the screen.
They’re going to give a press conference tomorrow.
Adding the number on the top of the screen, I hit send.
The response comes almost immediately: We knew that this would happen. You know what to do.
I inhale deeply.
I know. But what if they don’t believe me?
They can’t prove otherwise. Addressing the media is the appropriate step.
Ugh, he’s right.
Will you come?
The three dots appear and disappear several times, and I brace myself for a rejection. It’s too dangerous.
Then the reply pops up: I will be there.
All the tension leaves me, and my body suddenly feels like rubber. I sit in the dark bathroom for another fifteen minutes before I tuck the phone back into its hiding spot and slide back into bed next to Rhys.
He rolls over, wraps his arm around my waist, and pulls my back to his front.
"You talk to George?" he murmurs, his voice raspy from sleep.
"I did." I move his hand from my stomach and place a kiss on the inside of his palm.
The knock startles me so much that I shriek. The door to my bedroom flies open, revealing a wide-eyed Heather, searching for the potential threat, while Rhys bursts into the bedroom from my bathroom—only wrapped in a towel.
Understanding settles in her e
yes, probably assuming I’m on edge because of what’s about to happen.
"I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I didn’t mean to scare you." Heather remains inside the doorframe.
"It’s okay. I didn’t expect anyone." I look everywhere but at her.
Rhys and I lock gazes; he silently checks if I want him to stay. I shake my head, and he turns, disappearing back into a cloud of steam.
The little clock in the top corner of my laptop screen shows that it's six a.m. I'm showered and fully dressed since I gave up on sleep around 4:30. A long, hot, and numbing shower later, my hair is blow-dried, and I’ve applied a little makeup—just some foundation and mascara to make me feel presentable. I won’t be able to relax until I face the vultures—as Rhys calls them.
"Did you need something?" My tone is harsher than I mean it to be.
My adoptive mother flinches. "No, I just wanted to let you know that Agent Camden notified the media that we would give the statement at seven-thirty, and she wants to talk to you ahead of time."
"I’ll be down in a few." I force myself to gentle my tone. I’m still angry with both of them, but it’s Tristen that makes my blood pressure rise.
Heather doesn’t say anything else and just nods before closing the door again.
Turning back to the screen, I focus on what had me so distracted when the knock came.
Kat Rosenfield:
Our little quarterback-stealing skank has "reappeared." Wonder if the kidnapping was even real. It prob took the thirsty bitch this long to learn what to do with her mouth.
Comments:
Meghan LG: Haha! She’s never had a bf, 2 weeks are not enough for that.
Nora Ross: LMAO. If she even figured out how to open his pants.
Kellan J: Meow! Kitty Kat has her claws out.
Kat Rosenfield: Fuck off, Jager.
Kat Rosenfield: Meghan:: Right? She couldn’t learn how to give a BJ if she had a whole YouTube library of tutorials giving her step-by-step instructions.
Lisa Bennett: Unicorn?
Nora Ross: LOL. Duh!
Owen J: Nora—articulate as always. You should give L a tutorial since I know you def know what to do with ur mouth.
Kellan J: ROFLMAO
Meghan LG: Don’t be such a fucking asshole, O!
Nora Ross: You haven’t complained yet, Owen. ;)
Lisa Bennett: Kellan, why don’t you call Rhys and ask what his whore of a little sister still needs pointers on?
Owen J: I volunteer as tribute!
Nora Ross: OWEN!
Kat Rosenfield: You don’t know what diseases you’ll get touching that slut!
Owen J: I’ll take my chances. Have you seen that tight ass?
Kellan J: I second that. I’d tap that.
Meghan LG: GAG!
Closing my laptop, I squeeze my eyes shut. I wonder if Rhys has seen how his friends talk about me. The bathroom door opens, and he emerges dressed in faded, light-blue jeans, a gray-and-white plaid button-down with a white t-shirt underneath, and the football team's baseball cap on backward.
My mouth waters at the sight, and I shake my head.
Not appropriate right now.
"See something you like?" Rhys smirks at me, and I forget all about the shit I just read.
I stand up and cross the distance to him. Wrapping my arms around his midsection, I lean my head on his chest. The steady thump of his heart increases, and I squeeze. "Always."
We pull apart, and Rhys’s smile drops. "Ready?"
I answer honestly. "No."
Downstairs, we find Agent Camden and Lanning in their usual spots. Heather is standing at the island with a cup of coffee in her hand, and Tristen sits on the other side on one of the barstools, typing on his laptop.
"Where is Natty?" I scan the room and look over into the living room as well.
"She is still upstairs; I told her she could play until it’s time," Heather answers my question.
"You mean read," Rhys’s voice comes from behind me.
"True," his mother smiles, but it doesn’t reach her eyes.
Rhys and I are not touching, but he stands close enough for me to feel his body heat radiating off of him.
"Lilly?" Agent Camden brings my attention to her. "Why don’t you take a seat? We need to go over what we will tell the media."
My body goes rigid. "Do I have to talk to them?"
The two FBI agents exchange a look before they both make eye contact with Tristen. Tristen gets off his seat and walks over. "Let's sit, and we'll discuss what options we have."
I glance behind me at Rhys, who, in return, gently touches my lower back, signaling for me to sit down. We take the bench seat on the opposite side of Tristen and Agent Lanning, with Camden at the head of the table. Rhys folds his hands on top of the table, leaning forward. His entire posture screams Let's hear it. Under the table, his thigh is tightly pressed against mine in support.
I cross my arms in front of my chest. I’m sure whoever looks at me will assume it’s to shield myself from what’s about to come. They’re probably not too far off.
Thirty minutes later, I’m aware of everything that's about to happen, and we have another twenty to go. My stomach feels like it's about to expel the tea I sipped on while Camden filled me in. Her male counterpart only spoke up when she specifically asked him to clarify something. After handing me my mug with tea and Rhys his coffee, Heather stood behind her husband, hands on the back of his chair, while Tristen's focus jumped between the talking agents and me.
Camden looks between Rhys and me. "I am aware that this is a rather unique situation, and given the fact that we want this to focus on Lilly and her kidnapping, I would advise that you two do not touch while we are outside."
Rhys snorts, and my cheeks flush.
Could this get any more embarrassing?
"Rhys," Tristen warns.
"Jeez. Chill, Dad. I'm not gonna stick my tongue down Lilly’s throat while we're facing the cameras."
I suck in a breath at Rhys’s tone. He’s been showing less and less respect toward his father.
"Rhys, that's enough," Heather says calmly but with authority behind it.
He pushes up, hands flat on the tabletop. "Sure, Mom. He can treat all of us as puppets in his little military games and do God knows what to Lilly—which by the way, she won't tell me out of fear I'll blow a gasket. That alone tells me that it has to be pretty fucked up, and for some unknown reason, she's still protecting him."
How did this situation escalate so quickly? I place my hand on Rhys’s, whose knuckles have turned white from the pressure by now. "Rhys?"
His eyes flick to me, and he pulls his hand out. "I'll be back in fifteen." With that, he stalks out and up the stairs, leaving all of us stunned in the kitchen.
Chapter Forty
I pace the length of my room.
"Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!"
Stopping near the window, I glance through the half-open blinds. Three news vans are parked on the curb, and the vultures are already waiting. I pull on my hair and crouch down. I need to calm my nerves before we go out there.
I had no intention to go off on Dad, but the longer I avoided him, the more wound up I got. Camden's comment was just the final straw. I need to know What. The. Fuck happened for Lilly not to be able to look at my parents anymore—again. They finally had gotten back to a point where everything seemed normal. Why can she confide in her brother but not me? I bet even George knows, and I'm the only one left in the dark.
I’m her freaking boyfriend! I chuck the first thing I can reach across the room—the controller for my video console. It shatters into pieces against the wall, and I take in the scene of black plastic shards everywhere.
Fucking great.
Then there's the minor issue of my psychotic ex. Lilly thinks I didn't see what was pulled up on her screen earlier—well, I did. I've made it my mission to be up to date on Kat's malicious games. What pisses me off more are the comments of my so-called friends and teammates
. Wes already got into it with some of them, but it seems I have to rearrange some faces today to put them back in their place. The day will probably end with my suspension.
At least then I can stay home with Lilly.
I go into the bathroom and stare at the guy in the mirror. I barely recognize myself anymore. My hands grip the edge of the sink until my knuckles turn white. Closing my eyes, I focus on breathing. Eventually, I’m calm enough to put on my poker face to make it through the freak-show of a press conference. Let's hope Lilly will be able to lie her ass off, or I'll have other things to worry about than pounding Jager's face as soon as he crosses my path.
Lilly is standing in the foyer next to Natty. Her arm is around our little sister’s shoulder. Blood relation or not, Natty will always be her sister.
I scan Lilly up and down; she is wearing black skinny jeans that look looser than I remember. Despite the chilly temperature this morning, she put on her white Adidas Superstars—no socks—paired with a white V-neck t-shirt and her dark-blue denim jacket over it. The warmest item is the oversized brown Burberry scarf Den gave her two Christmases ago. I love the outfit; it makes her look I-don't-give-a-fuck casual, but at the same time, she's put together and, to me, sexy as hell.
Mine, my inner caveman growls.
I grab my varsity jacket from the hook next to the stairs and make my way over, draping my arm around Lilly's waist. I pull her into me and bury my nose in her hair. Inhaling the scent of her shampoo, my nerves calm some more.
I can do this.
Lilly, who still has Natty in her embrace, pulls back and searches my eyes.
"You okay?" Her tone is so low that only our little sister can hear us.
I force a reassuring smile on my face. "I'm fine. I just needed a moment."
Lilly’s eyes narrow; she knows there is more to it, but she doesn’t push the issue with Natty next to us.
Natty looks up, "Are you still angry with Dad?"
Why does she have to be so smart?
I pull her into a hug with my other arm and decide to give her the half-truth. "I am, but I mostly don’t want to leave Lilly alone today."