Rend (Riven 2)

Rhys came with an oddly silent cry, and his release seared me, my body turned wholly to his.

He dropped his forehead to my chest, breathing shakily.

Suddenly I was shivering and so tired. I stuck myself to his side and his arms came around me warm and strong.

He fell asleep almost immediately, with his fingers twisted in my hair, and I lay there for a while thinking that maybe it was true. Maybe I was finally home.

Chapter 14

On Halloween, I got home from work to find the dog lying on the floor in the kitchen near the stove, looking up at Rhys, hopeful for scraps.

We’d decided we’d give out candy to trick-or-treaters and then watch scary movies afterward. Rhys had bought so much candy that we couldn’t have given it all out if the entire population of Sleepy Hollow had come calling. But that was Rhys: When he did something he really went all out.

“Happy Halloween!” he crowed from the kitchen. “I have done a thorough sweep of the house and there are no ghosts to haunt us, so we can scare the bejesus out of ourselves watching movies to your heart’s content.”

I wrapped my arms around his waist and kissed his shoulder. “That’s very thoughtful. But you’re the one who’s scared of horror movies, remember?”

We ate a quick dinner and turned the porch light on. I hung a cardboard skeleton on the door. Every time the bell rang, the dog jumped up and barked. He had settled in great, losing a lot of the shyness he’d first displayed. But he didn’t like people in the house, as we’d learned when Caleb and Theo came over and the dog had tracked their every move, even following Theo to the bathroom.

“I know,” Rhys said as a group of kids left. “We should name him Doorbell.”

“I am not naming my dog after an inanimate object,” I sniffed.

“Your dog, huh?”

I just smiled.

Rhys was pretty damn excited every time the doorbell rang too. He chatted with the kids, praising their costumes, or asking what they were when he couldn’t tell. He introduced himself to the parents who were with them, and over and over said, “This is my husband, Matt,” with a squeeze of my shoulder, and just enough emphasis on husband that I knew exactly what it did to him.

When the time between doorbell rings began to increase, I decided I’d had my fill of being social for the night.

“Okay, I’m ready to be done with this now,” I said.

“You just want the leftover candy for yourself.”

I nodded enthusiastically and crammed a mini Milky Way in my mouth. “I wanna watch scary movies now.”

“Whatever you want, babe.” Rhys flicked out the porch light, and we decamped to the living room. There were dozens of horror movies to choose from and Rhys told me to pick, so I clicked to A Nightmare on Elm Street.

Rhys kept getting up. To make popcorn, to use the bathroom, to get another blanket. When he’d sit down, he seemed very interested in kissing my neck and playing with the dog. Finally, he wrapped his arms around my waist and buried his face in my hair.

“Rhys, just let me change it. You’re too scared.”

“’M not scared,” he said into my hair. I snorted.

“Come on, I’ve seen the movie, I don’t care.”

He sighed dramatically. “You wanted to watch scary movies.”

“I wanna watch Halloween movies with you. I don’t want you to torture yourself.”

“Thanks,” he said.

I shook my head. Big, protective Rhys scared of horror movies was mad adorable.

“Oh here, this is more your speed, I think.”

“I love this movie!” Rhys said, as I hovered over Hocus Pocus.

I laughed. “I was kidding.”

“Whatever, it’s great. Morgan and I used to watch this as kids. She was more like Max cuz she was all pouty and I was more like Dani, the little sister who got super excited about Halloween. Have you seen it?”

“Yeah, parts of it.”

He settled in on the couch, finally relaxed, and pulled me close. The movie was ridiculous and dated, but kinda hilarious. And Rhys was so into it I couldn’t help but like it.

“Oh, what about Binx? For the dog?”

“Um.” I didn’t want to mess with Rhys’s childhood joy, but that was a terrible name. “What about Max?” I offered as an alternative.

“Max,” Rhys tried out. “I think it’s perfect. Whattaya think, are you a Max?” he said to the dog. The dog raised its head an inch and then went back to sleep.

We grinned at each other. Max it was.

* * *

—

For weeks, we basked in a kind of post-yay-we-didn’t-fuck-this-to-hell idyll of domesticity and dog. Rhys, being Rhys, seemed hell-bent on convincing me that things were great at every turn. As if he could change my whole world by sheer force of will. It was sweet and hot, and I loved him for it. But.