Beneath the Stars (Falling Stars 4)

His dad’s words flooded him from that spot that had been vacant since his hope had been ripped away. Since the day he’d stolen his daddy’s.

Maybe…maybe this was what he’d meant.

And Rhys knew it was crazy. He didn’t even know this girl. But he knew she needed help. That she was gonna waste away her life, probably be used and abused on top of it, too, if he didn’t do something about it.

So he was going to.

He was gonna stand for someone else.

He pushed to standing, and she gasped a little sound and stumbled back when he cast her in the shadow of his towering frame.

Caught off guard and frightened by the sudden movement.

And he was sure of it then.

That she needed someone to be that person for her.

“Fuck Noah,” he said.

She blinked and he stretched out his hand. “You wanna run, Genny? How about you run away with me?”

“Rhys…I…I’m not sure. Noah will kill you.”

Rhys cracked a smirk. “Let him.”

They did. They ran. Hopped on Rhys’ bus with his band and toured around the country. And this girl he didn’t know—he loved her.

But it was different.

It was slow and sweet.

Devoted.

He made her happy and, for the first time since he was nine, he felt happy, too. And when they got to Vegas, they snuck away and got hitched at one of those chapels because it felt like the right thing to do, forged the papers and their names.

Once he somehow found a way to get her birth certificate, they’d do it for real.

He just hoped he could love her right.

Be all she needed him to be.

And maybe…maybe it might make his father a little bit proud, too. Maybe spark some of that joy that had been missing forever.

His chest tightened.

God, he wanted it something fierce. He’d give anything, do anything, to see his father smile.

Most of all, he prayed for once he’d do it right.

That he’d be strong enough.

That he wouldn’t fail her, too.

Rhys pulled their hands that were twined and resting on the console of the truck to his mouth. “Can’t wait for you to meet Mama. She’s gonna lose her mind when we tell her.”

Genny beamed at him, though there was no missing her nerves, seein’ as how they’d done it in secret, and now that they were finally back in South Carolina, they were gonna surprise his parents with the announcement.

“What is she gonna lose her mind about? That her wild boy finally got reined?”

He smiled, too. “That’s exactly why she’s gonna lose her mind. She woulda thought it’d be impossible.”

A wry smile ticked up at the corner of her pouty mouth. “Hmm…didn’t seem all that hard to me.”

“That’s because it took a special girl to make it possible.”

She blushed, and Rhys tried to ignore the flashes of anxiety that kept lighting up inside him.

The dread he felt every time he came face-to-face with his father. The man barely grunting. Barely eating. Barely breathing. While Rhys’ guilt had built exponentially.

Coming home only amplified the feeling.

The memories of those walls.

The ghost of that day that he was sure was going to haunt him his entire life.

His mama had tried to convince him it wasn’t his fault, but Rhys knew. If he had just listened, minded what his dad had instructed, it wouldn’t have happened.

They drove through his small hometown while Genny peppered him with a thousand questions about what it’d been like when he was growing up. He told her stories about the way he and Richard had run that town as teenagers, earning their reputations.

He also did his best to prepare her to meet his father, his voice rough and thick as he explained more about what to expect.

That his father might not even acknowledge them.

Or he might scream at them to get out of his room.

Maybe throw a bottle against the wall.

Wasn’t the most ideal of circumstances to bring his new bride home to, but that was his dad. Rhys might be ashamed of himself, but he wasn’t ashamed of his father.

But he guessed he hadn’t prepared her at all when they finally made it to the other side of town and hit the two-lane road.

He saw his childhood house in the distance up ahead.

Red and blue lights flashed through the night.

He rammed the accelerator to the floor, flying up the road and skidding as he cut a left into the bumpy dirt drive.

Dust billowed like the scream of demons as he flew up that tiny lane toward the circus of ambulances and police cars, and he was out the door and running for his mama who was running for him.

His guts coiled and sickness had already taken him hostage by the time she threw herself in his arms and buried her face in his chest. “He’s gone, Rhys. He’s gone.”

A roar of agony tore from his spirit.