But he catches my arm before I can roll out. “Cynda, wait.”
I stiffen. Afraid of him. Afraid of me. “Seriously, I’m not sure how long this toilet paper pad is going to hold up. I should get home.”
Just the mention of makeshift period paraphernalia would be enough to eww out most guys. But Rhys just sighs and says, “Cynda…”
He sounds disappointed. Like I’m doing something I shouldn’t. And that pisses me off. Because this was the deal from the start. What we agreed to.
“What, Rhys? What?” I demand, turning on him. "Two weeks wasn’t long enough for you to punish me for dumping you over text?”
“No,” he answers, his voice simple and harsh. “Two weeks wasn’t long enough. For that or anything else. Just like six months wasn’t long enough.”
I stare at him. And he stares at me. The past and right now battling between us.
Then I’m in his arms and we’re kissing, raw and unfettered. And it feels…not quite like the past. But not like the last two weeks either.
New.
The word appears like a light in the fog. This feels new. Like a new beginning.
Until suddenly it’s not.
“Cynda?”
I shove away from Rhys when I hear A’s voice. And we both turn to see my stepsibling, standing in the front door.
“What are you doing?” he demands, his eyes wide with disbelief.
“Um…” I look to the sky for help with this difficult situation. But nope, still no answers.
“A, mate, it’s none of your concern. And this is why you shouldn’t open doors without knocking first, isn’t it?” Rhys answers in my stead, his voice friendly but firm. “Now, why did you come over at this early hour?”
A frowns at the both of us, looking so much like a disapproving church lady, I nearly melt with embarrassment.
Then he says, “E’s missing. I went to ask her what she wanted for breakfast since it’s my day to cook and she wasn’t there. And she’s not answering her phone. Can you use your Find My app to see if you can spot her on there?”
Heart constricting, I do exactly that. I grab my own phone and quickly pull up the Find My feature.
“I think maybe she just went to the grocery store. I’m probably being paranoid,” A says as the app begins its search.
I frown when it reports back. “It says her phone is in the house.”
A reacts with a shocked jerk of his head. Then several calculations flit across his expression before he says, “Okay, my bad. Probably didn’t see her. That’s on me. I’ll go back to the house and find her.”
He starts to leave. But before he can, I slit my eyes and says, “Aaron Chaiyo Mitchell stop right there.
A freezes at the sound of his full name and slowly turns around. “Yes?” he asks with a scared-but-hopeful tone.
“Where is she?”
“In the house like you said,” A answers immediately…before shifting his eyes to the side.
“Bullshit,” I answer. “She isn’t your tuba. You would have looked everywhere before coming here. And you were so worried about her a few minutes ago. But now you’re trying to protect her because you and I both know that she left her phone in her room to cover for the fact that she’s probably over at some boy’s house.”
I know I’ve hit the nail on the head when A takes a physical step back. Like I’ve walloped him with a truth punch.
I can’t believe these two.
“I want you to go outside and wait for me,” I command, barely able to keep my voice level. “And when I come out you better have a name for me or I’m confiscating every game console in the house.”
A stops to protest. But all it takes is an eye flare from me to stop that nonsense.
“Yes, ma’am,” he says before sulking out.
To think I’d been so pleasantly surprised by how E stepped up while I was away. But as it turns out, she was playing me all along.
As soon as A leaves, I go around Rhys to get to the suitcase he shoved away. “Bet this isn’t the first time she snuck out of the house either. I’m going to kill her.”
Rhys gets out of my way but asks, “Isn’t she eighteen?”
“Yeah. And?” I grab the suitcase by the handle.
“So doesn’t that also mean she’s an adult now?” he asks. “Allowed to do as she wants?”
“Maybe in England,” I answer. “But in Missouri, living under my roof, she can’t go sneaking out to see boys just because she’s bored.”
“What if she’s not bored?” Rhys asks. “What if she truly likes this fellow?”
I hold up my suitcase-free hand. “Rhys, these are not your kids. You need to stay out of this.”
Rhys inclines his head. “They’re not your kids either. In fact, as I’ve previously asserted, they’re not kids at all. No wonder you’re so happy about not having my baby. You’re too busy infantilizing the only people you haven’t pushed away.”