Wild Side (Rose Hill, #3)(5)

Boxing up my sister’s belongings.

Scotch.

Uncovering photos of us together as kids.

More scotch.

Finding her stash of recovery coins. Two years clean.

A lot more scotch.

Mathematically, my body must be at least ten percent scotch right now. The other ninety percent is self-loathing.

It only worsens when I brave opening my eyes and see the scruffy mountain man looking me over. The dark slashes of his brows only enhance the stony scowl on his face.

I peek to the side, and it turns out I’m not in a bed at all. I am flat on my back on the living room rug, surrounded by partially filled cardboard boxes. I’d held it together through the first day of packing. Day two fucked me though.

I throw an arm over my face as if that will keep him from staring at me. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“We need to talk.”

“Hard pass.” The smell of my breath bouncing off the crook of my arm makes me want to hurl all over the floor.

This is not my finest moment.

“You can leave now. Thanks. Bye,” I add, because Rhys hasn’t moved, and I think he might be too big and dumb to pick up on the dismissal.

“No.”

From over the ridge of my arm, I watch him take two long strides and plunk himself down on the couch like he owns the place.

Okay. He does own the place. But he’s…I don’t know. He just seems a little too comfortable here. Waltzing in. Lounging on my sister’s couch. Waking me up.

It makes me think he spent time here. With her. She spoke of him like she worshipped the ground he walked on, so it only makes sense. And it also makes the betrayal of him kicking her out that much worse.

Pain shoots through my head as I stand, but I ignore it. I refuse to appear weak in his presence. If I can hold my own in a kitchen full of chef-sized egos, I can keep it together around this asshole.

Breathing deep and even, I turn my back on him and walk toward the kitchen where the offending scotch bottle sits—mocking me. I pour myself a water, forcing my hands to be steady, because I can feel Rhys watching me. Analyzing me.

I can tell myself he’s big and dumb all I want, but it only takes a few beats of getting lost in his eyes to see the intelligence in their depths.

“Rough night?”

I snort as I stare down at the glass of water. I know I need it, but I also know there’s an excellent chance it will come straight back up.

“I’m packing up my dead sister’s belongings. Is it supposed to be fun and easy? If I wanted your opinion on how I should cope, I’d ask.”

The glass touches my lips, and I take a small sip before turning to face him. His heavy shoulders are pitched forward, elbows slung on his knees, white papers pinched between his massive fingers.

I pop a hip and glare back at him. “Was the part about leaving confusing for you?”

“It was crystal clear. I just don’t care.”

“Landlords need to give twenty-four hours’ notice before entering the property. I checked the rental board website.”

His jaw ticks. “You’re not my tenant.”

My teeth grind. “Oh, fuck off. I’m already down enough. I don’t need you here torturing me with your presence. In fact, you’ve got a lot of gall showing your face to me at all. I’ll be done today and out of here before dark. You’ll have your place back. Now go.”

“I’m the one with gall? That’s rich coming from you. Haven’t visited in two years and now you’re concerned?”

I recoil the second his words land. He doesn’t need to add a single other word for me to read between the lines. Interpret his sentiment. Blame myself.

The thought that Erika might still be alive if I’d been a more present sister has tortured me for days. She always told me Rhys valued his privacy and asked me not to come here, and I’d respected that. I tried not to pry, and I wanted so badly for her to feel some modicum of control over her life.

But we still saw each other often. She came to Rose Hill to visit me even though our parents had cut her off. I looked after Milo frequently and worked my schedule at the bistro around being an extra set of hands for her, so she didn’t have to care for a toddler all alone. The five-hour drive didn’t stop us.

They say it takes a village, and Erika didn’t have one even though she needed it. So I became her village, taking on as much as I could. I grew to love that kid like he was my own.

My parents keep telling me I went above and beyond for her…but wondering if I could have done more will haunt me forever.

Those last few times she’d asked me to take Milo, I’d been more exasperated than usual. She’d also been asking for my help more and more frequently.

I was tired. Overworked, overwhelmed, and low on cash. I’d started to feel taken advantage of, and I began asking a lot of questions about why she needed me quite so often. I think I had an inkling something was off…but I hadn’t followed up very thoroughly.

My eyes burn, and I hate myself for it. “Get. Out.”

Rhys has the good sense to drop his gaze, but I follow his line of vision and watch the tendons in his hands flex as he toys with the sheets of paper that hang from his fingers. “I can’t. I have to give you these. And I need to know where Milo is.”

I bristle, knowing I’ll protect Milo at all costs. Always have. Always will. “You don’t need to know shit—”