The Singles (79 page)

“I don’t believe that.”

“My mom works from home, and my dad is in sales.” I suck on the inside of my lower lip. “I love my parents, if that’s what you’re wondering, but we have issues.”
Issues that began with your family
, I want to say. I know that he’ll have to find out eventually, but I’m not ready yet. Especially not while we’re here under his mother’s roof, with his brother’s child sleeping in the other room.

He frames my face with his strong hands and offers me a smile that makes me weak all over. “All families have issues.”

***

A
s if she somehow senses that I’m out doing something I probably shouldn’t be doing, my mother calls me the next morning while Rhys drives us back to Richmond. I don’t want to answer her call with him sitting right beside me, and I plan to call her back as soon as I get back to my dorm. After she calls two times in a twenty-minute stretch of time, though, I finally answer.

“Thank God,” she whispers, her voice low and trembling, the moment she hears me. “Where have you been, Evie?”

I twist my face into a frown. “Um, why? You’re not sitting at my dorm or something, are you?” That had actually happened last year, with my dad showing up at school when I ignored his calls for too long.

“Should I be?”

Forcing out a laugh, I try to sound nonchalant, telling her, “No. I’ve been in the library studying for a test I have coming up next week.” When she lets out a sniffle, alarm bells sound in my head. “Nothing is wrong, is there?”

“No ... nothing like that. I’ve just been trying to call you. I kept getting voicemail, and I thought—”

Her voice trails off, and I can easily finish the sentence for her. She had tried to get in touch with me, and when I didn’t answer she automatically assumed something bad had happened to me—like it had to my sister. Out the corner of my eye, I look at Rhys and clench my fingers around my phone.

“I haven’t seen any missed calls from you,” I admit, which is the truth because I’ve honestly only noticed the last two. “My service isn’t always the best here. Why didn’t you leave me a voicemail? If you had I would’ve called you right back.”

“I ...” She swallows hard and then clears her throat. She lets out an uneasy laugh, and I can picture her shaking her head nervously, her hazel eyes avoiding mine as she speaks. “It wasn’t important. I just wanted to make sure you’re alright. Are you still coming home for Thanksgiving?”

Her question sounds like a plea, and that scares the hell out of me. Has something new happened between her and my father? “Of course I’ll be there.” Then, I ask tentatively, “Are you sure everything is alright?” Once again she assures me that she is fine, and then she tells me she has to get ready for her book club, which I know is a lie. They’ve been meeting on Thursday nights, not Saturday mornings, for years.

Dropping my phone between my legs, I rest my face in my hands. “Is something wrong at home?” Rhys’ Southern accent breaks through the silence, and I shake my head.

“Honestly, I have no idea. My mom sounds like a wreck, and whenever that happens I just know my dad has fucked up.”

After a few minutes of stressing, I can no longer keep myself from calling Dad directly, but of course he doesn’t answer. I leave a voicemail. Then, just for good measure, I send him a text message.

“I’m worried about my mother,” I say softly to Rhys. He turns his head to look at me, and I release a frustrated noise from the back of my throat. “Dad isn’t exactly faithful. They’ve been doing better lately, but for a while he was screwing everything that moved.”

“The thing is, my mom and I have never been close—I was always my dad’s favorite. But when I found out what he was doing behind her back ... I loathed him. I didn’t want anything to do with him.” Crossing my arms over my chest, I look out the window. I can see Rhys’ reflection in the glass and every now and then, he casts a concerned glance in my direction.

“I’m sorry for complaining.”

His hand finds my thigh, the touch gentle and protective. “I’ll listen to every word that leaves your lips.”

My father still hasn’t called or messaged me by the time we get back to Richmond. When Rhys parks in front of my dorm, he cups the back of my neck and turns my face to his, moving his head from side to side.

“Come home with me,” he says, his voice thick with emotion and desire and need. “You don’t need to go in there, just come home with me.”

And before I realize it, I’m nodding. “Okay.”

––––––––

A
s the days grow colder and the end of the semester gradually begins to creep closer, I discover my feelings for Rhys growing stronger. It’s beautiful and intense, but it’s also terrifying. I’m losing myself to him slowly—piece by piece—and I know that at some point, I’m going to have to let everything out if I want this thing to keep going.

And I absolutely want more of him. When I tell Kendra that he has become a necessity that I can’t see me going without, she laughs at me and tells me to slow the hell down, but it’s true. Rhys Delane has become that presence in my life that reverberates.

“What are you going to do after you finish up here? I mean with working as Professor Cameron’s assistant?” I ask him late one night, the weekend before Thanksgiving break, as he leads me through his dark apartment and into his bedroom. Even though I hadn’t planned to see him until our lesson on Monday, I’d caved and picked him up from Ippy’s after his shift ended fifteen minutes ago.

“Eventually, I’ll teach. My mom has taught music for thirty years, so I guess you can say it’s entrenched in my brain.” He splays his hand over my breast, testing its weight, before groaning and motioning for me to lift my arms over my head.

“Entrenched in your brain. That’s a strong way to put it,” I say thoughtfully as he gives my red long-sleeved shirt a harsh tug up and over my head, messing my hair in the process.

“God, I’m so happy you finally stopped wearing all those stupid hats,” he murmurs in appreciation.

I shiver as the chilly air breathes against my bare skin, but then he drags me to him, warming me with his muscular chest. “You know, I wish I had teachers like you when I was in school.”

“I’m glad you didn’t.” He jerks my jeans down around my hips and palms my sex, ripping a gasp from within my chest. “You’re mine now, Evelyn.”

“That’s an even better word,” I exhale as his finger glides inside of me, and I nearly lose my shit from the slightest touch. There’s so much more to come—there always is with Rhys—but somehow he manages to turn me into a wet, quivering mess before we’re even close to that part.

In perfect sync, we walk backward together, his hand never leaving my pussy, his finger continuing to pump quickly inside of me. Falling back on his bed, a harsh moan escapes my lips. “I love how wet you are.” Shoving my legs apart as far as they’ll go with my jeans still on, he exposes me to him. He rubs his thumb over my clit, flicking the tiny nub deliberately. “I love—”

I close my eyes and throw my head back. Powerless to stop myself from writhing in pleasure against the sheets, I wait for him to finish speaking. And I hope he’ll say those three words that I’m absolutely terrified to say to him first.

I love you.

Because that’s what this is, isn’t it? If it’s not, I don’t know what the hell is.

But then he shoves my jeans and panties down to my calves, and I finish kicking them off. I hear them fall to the floor. Leaning over my body, he strokes his free hand gently over my flat belly and up to my breast. Licking my nipple greedily through the soft cotton of my bra, he says, “I love everything about you.”

The bed creaks slightly when he climbs on beside me. He touches my skin gently as his fingers continue to work inside me, but the moment he sees that I’m close to going over the edge, he pulls them free. I barely have time to catch my breath between him putting on a condom and pulling me on top of him, positioning the head of his erection between my folds.

“I’ve never wanted anything as much as I want you,” he admits, squeezing my breast.

“Anything?” I demand, and he lifts his hips a little, his cock squeezing into my opening. I close my eyes and count to five in an attempt to regain some of my self-control. “That’s a strong word.”

When he sits up abruptly, he fills me completely. I bury my face into his shoulder and cry out, but he laces his fingers into my hair and forces my gaze to his. “More than I’ve ever wanted anything,” he says once more in a low growl.

From that point on, everything is a slow, delicious blur. From the way his fingertips presses gently against my hips as he rocks me against his erection, to the soft kisses he drags all over my sweaty body after we both come and I’m still shaking all over. And then to the way his hands frame my face, touching my skin like everything about me is brand new and I’ll suddenly break at the slightest bit of pressure.

After we’re both clean from a shower, he pulls me to him. He twists strands of my damp chestnut hair through his fingers, and I listen to the steady beat of his heart.

“I love
everything
about you, Evelyn,” he tells me again before drifting off to sleep.

For now, I’ll take this. I can accept it. Because maybe—maybe he’s just as scared as I am.

***

I
need to pick up a few of my books for an English assignment that’s due tomorrow and a few clothes, so Rhys goes with me to my room first thing the next morning. We’re quiet as we tiptoe into my suite. Hannah and Lara’s door is open just a bit, and I can hear the sound of Top 40 pop and smell lemon-scented cleaner as they perform their usual Sunday morning cleaning ritual. Expecting Corinne to be sound asleep with her ear buds in, I touch my finger to my lips and lead him into my room. I’m surprised to find it empty, but there’s a note from my roommate sitting on my desk by my laptop.

Decided to go to Farmville with Ella. If you need me, you know how to find me. XOXO

I refold the note and slip it on the giant stack of papers already littering my desk. “This shouldn’t take long,” I promise Rhys as I rummage through my drawers for clean underwear and clothes.

“Take your time. I love watching you.”

There’s that word again—love. A sweet pressure pools in the pit of my stomach, and I shoot him an impatient look. “I’d rather get you back to your place.”

Still, he continues to study me from my computer chair as I fold my clothes neatly and shove them into my duffle bag. After a few minutes, though, he finally casts a dark look in the direction of my suitemate’s room and releases a breath from between his teeth.

“Alright, change of plans because I can’t listen to the shit they’re playing anymore. Either hurry up or put on something good.”

“Now who’s being impatient?” I tease. Tossing my wavy hair back away from my face, I stuff a handful of underwear into my bag before nodding at the laptop on my desk. “The password is ABCD95.” He gives me a look that screams how incredibly lame he thinks that is, and I lift my shoulders guiltily. “It was easy to remember—the first four letters of the alphabet and the year I was born. Nobody’s figured it out yet.”

Grinning, he opens the screen and starts typing in the password. “Until you just handed it over to me on a silver platter,” he drawls, and I press my lips into a smirk.

“I think I’ve been doing that a lot here lately.”

“Don’t worry, as soon as we—” But then his words catch in his throat. Cocking my eyebrow, I look up from my bag to see him staring at my computer screen, unblinking.

“What’s wrong—” I start, taking a few steps in his direction, but then I stop as he silently turns the laptop toward me so I can see the screen. Suddenly, I have a clear view of what has affected him so much.

It’s the smiling photo of me with my sister.

A dull pain settles on my chest as he comes to his feet and backs away from my desk, shaking his head. “Miller,” he whispers harshly. “
Miller
.” He drags his hand roughly over his face, as if he’s forcing what he’s seeing into his brain, and then he turns his gaze on me. I’m struck by the look in his eyes. “You know—
knew
—this girl?”

“Yes,” I whisper.

“Who was she to you?”

I can’t breathe. I can’t breathe, and I’m suddenly shaking, but I finally let out, “She was my sister, Rhys. Lily was my older sister.”

He turns toward Corinne’s bed and his shoulders are hunched as he takes in heavy breaths. “And you already know who I am, don’t you?”

“Yes,” I say, and he releases a broken noise that reaches into me and breaks me apart.

“Did you know before you fucked me? Or did you figure it out when you let me spill all my shit to you?”

I take a hesitant step in his direction, and when I reach out and feather my fingers over his shoulder, he rips himself away from my touch. “Rhys, I—”

He turns to me, his face a mask of anger and pain, and he leans away from me. “Don’t dance around the goddamn question, Evelyn. Did you know who I was when you came over that first night?”

Hanging my head in shame, I stare at the floor. I should’ve known this would happen. Hell, I realized he would eventually have to find out that I’m Lily’s sister, but I didn’t want it to be like this. This is just ... wrong.

“I figured it out the first day we met in Professor Cameron’s office. That’s why I didn’t—” Clenching my hands into tight fists by my side, I release a tremulous breath. “That’s why I didn’t come to lessons with you at first. Because I was angry and afraid. I thought being around you would make me think of nothing but my sister.”

He reaches out as if to touch my face, but then he winces and fists his hands. “And you didn’t say a word?” he demands. “You didn’t think that it would be important to me? All this time I let you avoid telling me anything about yourself. I let myself believe you had a good reason. But this—” Closing his blue green eyes, he lets a rush of air filter from his flared nostrils. “I never expected this. I’m a fool.”

“I didn’t want to make things awkward,” I explain, and I feel the first tears start to race down my cheek. “We weren’t supposed to end up like this. I didn’t want to hurt you anymore than you’ve already—”