Wild Side (Rose Hill, #3)(73)

Today Rhys overheard me on the phone telling Tabitha that I was exhausted and feeling down. Not an hour later, he showed up at the front door with a bottle of glycerin bubbles in hand and his signature harmless scowl perfectly in place. He played bubbles with Milo in the backyard, so I could take a nap.





I’m mature enough to keep things in friend territory, and I needed a break. Toddlers are no joke.





When I woke up, we chatted. I don’t know if he was feeling bad about the way he quietly turned me down the other night, but he ended up telling me that he’s a professional wrestler. Like orange tans, greasy muscles, fake fights, and cringe interviews.





I burst out laughing when he told me, and I’m still giggling as I write this. He’d mentioned before he worked in the entertainment industry, and I didn’t press because, well, he’s my landlord. Didn’t particularly want him digging into my past.





But I guess we were exchanging secrets, and this was his. Now I get why he wouldn’t want to tell people.





Maybe this will be less funny tomorrow.





I bristle, feeling defensive. He told her outright, whereas I had to pry it from him. And sure, it’s entertainment, but the bruises on his body are not fake. If nothing else, I feel relieved that I’ve never mocked him for what he does. It’s probably why he didn’t want to tell me in the first place.

If Erika were here, I’d kick her in the box. This is the side of her that was “too cool” for so many things. Too cool for school. Too cool for volleyball. Too cool for family events. This is the underlying attitude that got so much worse when the drugs came into play. I vividly remember the eye rolls and the cutting mockery that became almost constant. Those were the precursors that led to distance before she pulled away completely.


I decided that the best way to get over Rhys was to get under someone else. And I did. One town over, I met Tyson. He’s lanky in that Tommy Lee way and hung like him too. He’s raw and edgy. He’s exciting. I had the time of my life.





Rhys watched Milo for me, and when I came home looking mussed, all he did was smile and say he was glad I had fun.





I think deep down I was hoping to make him jealous.





It didn’t work.





A sense of dread surges inside me, slow and steady. Each entry is like a big breath into a balloon. The feeling presses against me as I flip the pages hungrily. It’s as though I can feel the impact coming but can’t take my foot off the gas.

She mentions Tyson more and more. Going out is mentioned more and more. Rhys taking care of Milo becomes a given, an afterthought—an expectation. And the dates on the entries match up with when she started leaving him with me more often too.

Nights out turn into weekends away.

A social beer becomes a few too many highballs.

The highballs are a gateway, and though she never puts it in writing, I know in my gut what she and Tyson were doing when either Rhys or I were taking care of her son.

Her reflective tone shifts, and suddenly she’s casting blame on everyone else.

I’m both furious and fucking devastated as the change in her persona unfurls.

She was so close.

I blink at the page beneath me. A wet dot bleeds out into the paper, the pen stroke becoming slightly blurred.

It can’t be.

One furious swipe at my cheek, and I stare back at wet fingers, my lips popping open into a silent O shape.

Then I decide not to fixate but to keep reading.


Tyson has run into some trouble. All the nights out and extra-special treatment he’s given me have caught up with him. I didn’t realize he was treating me so extravagantly. He wanted everything to be top of the line, but he couldn’t afford it.





The least I could do was help him out. But it’s not enough. I gave him so much that I couldn’t make rent. Luckily, Rhys was understanding. I promised him I’d pay it back, and I fully intend to. I wish everyone had as much faith in me as he does.





The dealership is giving me fewer shifts, and when I asked why, they said they had to hire another receptionist because I was taking so much time off. Which is bullshit. It’s only been a weekend here and there. I know I can’t ask Tabby for help again, or she’ll be all fucking over me.





But this time is different. It’s not because I’m in trouble. I’m just taking care of Tyson—my family. It’s exactly what she’d do in this situation.





Alarm bells sound. I want to reach into the pages and shake her. I want to scream at her, This guy is not your family! He’s your downfall! But she’s not here for me to make her see reason.

Another tear tumbles from my lashes as I watch my sister’s life crumble right before my eyes.


When I told Rhys my shifts were slow, he didn’t hesitate to offer a rent break. And the way he’s been so overly helpful financially got me thinking. I finally looked him up, and my eyes about popped out of my head when I saw his reported salary.





That’s why I asked Rhys to be Milo’s guardian in the will I finally got around to doing. He seemed taken aback at first, but said yes.