Now he was clutching the steering wheel so tight his knuckles were white. The muscle in his jaw was clenched and he was swallowing hard. In the moment the light changed, before we sped off again into the darkness, the flash of green light illuminated the track of Rhys’s tears.
I’d seen Rhys laugh until he teared up, eyes squeezed shut, cheeks full and red. He’d wipe them away appreciatively and say, Aw, man, shaking his head. I’d seen him near tears at a couple of songs he loved. I’d seen his eyes water when chopping onions.
I’d never seen Rhys cry.
I pinched the inside of my wrist as hard as I could to keep from reaching toward him and I made a promise. I made a promise that I would do everything I could not to hurt him anymore. If he would just stay . . . if he would just give me another chance. I’d do anything.
The windows of the house gleamed bright in the darkness, and despite how horrible everything was, I felt a surge of relief at seeing it. It was the only home I’d ever felt that for.
Inside, I went to brush my teeth first thing, and when I came out of the bathroom, Rhys was standing near the bed. He looked so lost.
“Thanks for letting me come here,” I said.
“This is your home!” Rhys’s voice shook with anger, and I liked it because at least he didn’t seem so lost anymore. “I’m mad. I’m . . . I’m really mad. And we fought. Couples fight! But it doesn’t mean we give up.”
We’d never fought much before. Sometimes I was withdrawn and grouchy, and Rhys would tell me to cut it out. Sometimes he was oblivious and stubborn, and I’d tell him to cut it out. Sometimes we bickered and got irritated with each other. But it had never been like this.
“It doesn’t mean we’re breaking up. It doesn’t mean one of us is leaving,” Rhys said fiercely.
“No?” I said, my voice shaking.
He breathed in and out slowly through his nose.
“No.”
He was staring at me in that way that meant he wouldn’t stop until I agreed.
“Okay,” I said.
He finally stepped toward me and grabbed shaky handfuls of my sweatshirt.
“You don’t really believe me, do you?” His voice was soft and heartbroken, and I looked down. “Do you? Please just tell me the truth. Please. I don’t think we can afford any more lies.”
“I don’t . . . I don’t know. I’m not sure.” And fuck, it was hard to say that to him. Hard to watch him hurt and know it was because of me.
“Okay,” he said, sighing. “That’s . . . that’s good. Keep telling me the truth.”
I nodded, suddenly exhausted. “You’re not gonna like it,” I whispered.
“You let me worry about that.” His voice was flat and resigned.
I felt my stomach lurch again.
“Let’s go to bed,” he said. “We can talk later.”
My eyes flew to his face, then the bed. “T-together?”
Another flash of pain, then he nodded.
I tugged off my sweatshirt and left it and my jeans in a heap on the floor. I stood as he took his own clothes off, not quite able to get into bed first, still certain he’d change his mind.
When Rhys got under the covers and held them up for me, a surge of adrenaline flooded my body so fast I almost collapsed onto the bed. If he was letting me sleep with him, then maybe it really would be okay.
Rhys cupped my face and looked at me. “Matty, listen to me because this is really important. Are you listening?” I nodded. God, his eyes really were the most beautiful color I’d ever seen. “I’m mad at you, really mad. And I’m hurt that you lied to me,” he said, voice thick.
He squeezed his eyes shut when mine flooded with tears. After a few seconds, he opened them again and he was crying too. “And I love you.”
I blinked wildly, took one shaky breath and then another, and still he watched me. I closed my eyes to try and untangle the words. “Okay,” I whispered shakily. “I love you so much. I know you’re mad at me. You should be. I didn’t mean to be so—”
He stopped me with a finger to my lips and winced like he couldn’t hear any more. Tears leaked from my eyes down to tickle my ears, then onto the sheets. Rhys brushed them away.
“Okay. Thanks,” he murmured. “That’s enough for now.”
He settled on his back on his side of the bed. Usually he would gather me to him with my head on his chest, or scoot behind me, arm slung over my waist so that even in sleep we could feel the weight of each other.
Tonight, he felt so far away, and I hugged my damp pillow to my chest to stop myself from reaching for him.