Prep School Experiment (14 page)

Rhys carefully took his spoon from his chalky white soup and placed it on the saucer. His throat closed. Given how much Mom liked to move, he knew what was coming.

Michelle hesitated and the senator covered her hand with his and took over. “Rhys should move in with us.”

Grandfather Brentwood frowned, but Grandmother kept her face serene. She took a final bite of her soup. And then she patted her lips with her napkin and returned it to her lap. “That’s a lovely thought. But Rhys is doing well here. He’s made friends. He’s a brilliant student. Shay Prep’s lucky to have him.” She motioned for the server to take away the soup bowls.

Grandpa Wentworth drummed his fingers and poked his fried drumstick at the camera. “Glad you’re talking sense, boy, but don’t you think four schools in one semester is a bit much? Trallwyn High, Alaska, Shay Prep—now you’re talking about sending him to Trallwyn Prep?” He shook his head. “Cal’s got him in hand. You leave him be.”

“Rhys is a minor.” The senator talked to the camera, but he was focused on his father in West Texas. “Michelle got to know him when they worked together at the library, but I haven’t had that chance. And Rhys has never known me, his
true
father.”

Grandpa Wentworth gave a reluctant nod, swayed by that argument. He took a scoop of marshmallow-coated sweet potatoes with a considering hand.

Never known a father? The senator would be number five.

Rhys’ stomach tightened. He didn’t want the Tuna Tartare that the server was bringing around. But, he allowed her to place the entrée in front of him so as not to give away his position. The rounded tower of red meat had a layer of green vegetable in the center, topped with watercress.

“Rhys was always going to move here after the election,” Michelle said, sounding defensive. “He is a minor.” She repeated their earlier argument and then wrapped both hands around a glass of milk. She took a sip. The gesture made her appear younger.

Grandfather Brentwood worked his jaw. “He is a minor.” His expression lay somewhere between the need to comfort his daughter and firm conviction. “This is why we had legal papers drawn up with Ms. Zukowski, granting us temporary custody of him.” He stuck his fork into his seafood tower.

Rhys crossed his arms over his chest and said nothing. Logically, he’d known Mom must’ve signed something to allow him to live with the Brentwoods, but the term “custody papers” hit him. He didn’t know why it would, though, given that she’d dropped him off with his grandparents so much growing up. She’d left him so often that, after the age of eleven, he’d preferred to just stay with them. No matter how he’d begged, his opinion hadn’t mattered.

Move. Come back. Move. Come back.

He’d thought dealing with the moves and getting used to his mom again had been bad. But a couple of years ago, after he’d lost his grandparents, she’d been forced to keep him permanently, and that had been even worse. Now he’d reached a new low. Mom had given custody of him to strangers like he meant nothing.

The senator smiled, not one of his nice smiles, and shook a tumbler of some amber liquid, stirring it around in his hand in concentrated circles. “Custody which a judge here in Texas will overturn. Custody changes to me and Michelle in two weeks.”

“Those papers were filed in a New York court.” Grandfather Brentwood took a bite, making his son-in-law wait for the rest of his words. “And you won’t be surprised that we know a few judges too.”

“Dad, this is about what’s best for Rhys,” Michelle said.

“Well, have you asked the boy then?” Grandpa Wentworth added a type of glaze to his side of ham.

No, they hadn’t.

“Mom,” Michelle said, pleading in her voice.

“Michelle.” Grandmother’s voice softened. “I love you more than anything in this world, but this
is
about what’s right for Rhys. He’s doing so well here.”

Michelle’s gray eyes teared.

“If you want to see Rhys more often, I’ll send the jet,” Grandfather Brentwood said. “You can stay as long as you like. Do some shopping in the city.”

Rhys felt his shoulders ease, and he looked up from the table cloth. This might work out. The Brentwoods were on his side. He wondered what other people could accomplish with this kind of support. He bet their names could be on buildings too.

Michelle shook her head. “I can’t. My doctor advised against heavy travel and frequent flights.” She blew out a breath. The senator’s hand fell to her shoulder. She said, “Mom. Dad. Rhys. I’m pregnant.”

A buzzing sound grew in his ears.

Grandmother’s eyes widened. Grandfather dropped his hands to his lap, his hard stance crumbled.

“Losing Braedon nearly tore Steven and me apart. The joy of having Christian kept us together. Finding Braedon made us stronger than ever. Now we’re expanding our family.”

Rhys rose without thought and moved over to the row of windows. The blue silk curtains covered the view. He took a few steps, walking along their length.

A baby.

He turned and walked in the other direction.

Michelle wanted to see him and couldn’t fly. They were going to send him to Trallwyn, like all the times his grandparents had sent him to live with Mom when they thought she’d cleaned up her act. He reached the sconce on the other wall and turned.

Away from Kaitlin. To a new school. A fourth school this year.

He picked up the pace.

Maybe there’d be tutors first because they couldn’t enroll him in Prep without people in town finding out. People. Mom. She’d show up so fast.

He turned.

And his stepdad.

He clenched his fists.

All his problems from Texas. And he wouldn’t see Kaitlin every day.

“Rhys. Please sit down.” Grandmother spoke calmly and he got the impression that she may have been talking to him for a while.

Rhys paced back over to his seat, tense and wired. He didn’t blame Grandmother or Grandfather. They were talking to their only daughter. Impossible situation. He blew out a breath and tried to man up.

Congratulate them. Say something.

No words came.

“Michelle.” Grandmother smiled. “Your dad and I are so happy about the pregnancy. We can’t wait to hear all about your plans.” Her gray eyes took on a steely light. “But that changes nothing.
Rhys doesn’t want to leave
. We made him a promise when he chose to move in with us. This will always be Rhys’ home—for as long as he wants it.”

Grandfather Brentwood nodded, flashing an almost relieved smile at his wife before facing his daughter. “I know Rhys is a minor, but he’s seen a lot. He’s been through a lot, he’s older than you think, and he knows his own mind.” He turned away from the camera and looked straight at Rhys. Eye to eye. Man to man. “This is your home. If you want to stay.”

Rhys’ throat tightened and he couldn’t respond.

He nodded.

***

“I know you’re not here.” Kaitlin shifted against the soft sheets. “But I feel like you’re here with me.”

“Feel what?” Rhys asked.

“The weight of your hand on the outside of my leg. The tingling of my lips. The warmth of your body. You’re not wearing a shirt.”

“I’m not.” His voice sounded husky. “What else do you feel?”

“The urge to take this way too far, way too fast—and you’re not even here.”

“I could be there.” His Texas drawl made the words linger, curling temptation around her. Rhys here. Her bedroom. Her house. Manhattan.

“Rhys. My parents are home.”

“I’ll be quiet.”

“You’re still mad at me. I heard you at dinner. You told your family I drugged you.”

“You did drug me, but I’m in a forgiving mood.”

A laugh gurgled from her lips. “You’re such a guy.”

Rhys put his lips to her throat as if he wanted to feel the laugh. Soft. A touch.

This wasn’t real. This was a dream. But he was opening up. Maybe she could get the answers from him now. The ones she couldn’t get when she was awake. “Besides drugging you, can you at least explain what I did that was so wrong? Why you pretended not to know me on your first day at Shay Prep?”

“After meeting my mom and stepdad,
you denied knowing me
.” He put it straight out there.

A gasp escaped her lips. “That’s not what happened.” His words dug at her because it
was
sort of what had happened. “And now I can’t fix it. I’d shout that I know you from the school’s front steps, but you’re Shay Crew now, so who wouldn’t? So doing it now doesn’t matter.”

Her eyes burned, and she forced herself wake up.

Thirty minutes later, wide awake, her phone beeped with a real text message from Rhys.
I’m downstairs.

OMG.

Kaitlin grabbed a hoodie and threw it over her PJs, running downstairs quietly so her parents wouldn’t hear. She shifted her bare feet on the cold marble and typed in the temporary alarm code to let him in. “You can’t be here.” Despite her intensity, she kept her voice low.

Rhys brushed his hair back, and his gaze shot around the foyer. “I had the dream again. I want to see your room.”

Kaitlin wound her hands together. “You can’t be here.”

“Look.” Rhys held out his hands, palms up. “I’m really not making a move. Not tonight. Not right now. I need to see your room for myself. Maybe you told me about it in boarding school and my mind filled in the details. I need to know if I’ve imagined this or what. You have to want to know too?” He moved across the marble tile toward the stairs, his steps certain. “You expect me to take you on your word about these dreams. You’re truthful, while everyone else in my life lies. My very freaking existence is a twisted lie?” Frustrated emotion rang in his words and his voice grew louder, too loud for this late at night in a house where everyone was supposed to be sleeping.

Even though Rhys sounded annoyed with her, Kaitlin preferred it to the distant Rhys, the blasé New York Rhys. At least it was real and at least they had a connection. At least he was telling her something about his life, about what was going on with him. She got on the stairs in front of him and took his hand. “Okay. Come with me.”

His shoulders eased. “Thanks.”

She put her finger to her lips, indicating the need for quiet. He nodded and with no hesitation followed her up to her room.

She clicked the door shut behind them.

Rhys moved to the center of her room. He grew still and his gaze went from one end of the room to the other and then from her twinkle lights to her carpet. He moved to the bed, sat down and raised his green gaze to hers. They spoke a thousand words, but all he said was, “Got enough pillows?”

“Nope.” She scooted onto the bed beside him, sitting cross-legged and reminding herself that she’d been in bed with him before. This was Rhys. Her Rhys. No need to be nervous. “Tell me about your family. What’s going on with you?”

He closed his eyes a moment and then shook his head. He touched her arm. “You should let me stay tonight.”

Kaitlin broke away and got up. “You can’t say things like that to me. I’m nicer than that.”

“That’s what happens when nice girls date guys like me.”

“But we’re not dating. You don’t even
acknowledge
me at school.”

“And you don’t dance anymore. People change.” Rhys rose from the bed and seemed to be picking a fight on purpose. “Get the alarm, Kaitlin. I have to go.”

Kaitlin let him out with no other words. She went back up to her room, punched her pillow, and got under the covers. The twinkle lights flickered across her sheets. The glow made her think of Rhys’ kisses. She unplugged the strand. Her phone pinged, and she moved to turn it off, and then her heart rate sped up.

Maybe Rhys had dug up an apology.

Incoming call: Seattle. Geneva.

Kaitlin held her breath and hit connect. Geneva’s dark-skinned gorgeous face popped on the screen. “Hey, girl.”

Kaitlin burst into tears.

“Hey, hey. My scars aren’t that bad, are they?” Geneva traced a line down a faint mark on her cheek.

“You…look…beautiful.”

“Can the waterworks then and tell me what’s up? How’d you break out of the igloo?”

Kaitlin blew her nose on a tissue and wiped at her eyes, sucking it up. “You first. Elena and I were so worried, and we couldn’t reach you. I’ve been sending emails left and right trying to find you, but you’re not on social media and…”

“I’ve been seriously recuperating. But I’m in fighting shape now, ditching the tutors for spring semester and heading back to Alaska.”

Relief eased her tension away. “Elena’s going to die. She’ll be so excited.”

“What’s up with her? What’s up with you? Why are you in New York? Why did a US senator contact my dad and tell me you were reaching out? How do you know a senator? Why did he want to know about the cupcakes? And most of all,
why
are you crying?”

Kaitlin blurted everything out, everything that had happened at the boarding school after Geneva left up through tonight. She broke from talking only to grab a drink and then went right back. “And the worst part is—do you want to know the worst part?” Heat flushed her face.

“Spill it.”

“I’m seventeen now, and I
still
haven’t been kissed. Not outside of a dream.”

Geneva shut her eyes. “Girl. We taught you nothing. Go get your man and kiss him.”

“I tried. I tried tonight, but he’s
so
mad at me. Well, he’s mad at the world and his family and me. He won’t even look at me anymore. Not after tonight.”

“Please.” Geneva drew out the word. “Here’s what you do. Get a great outfit.”

Kaitlin rubbed her forehead. “We wear uniforms.”

“Then after school. Put on one of your dance outfits.”

“I haven’t been dancing.”

Geneva paused. “That’s ridiculous. Start back. Now, by dance outfit, I mean a sports bra. Red. And low slung workout pants. Any color. And by low slung, I mean roll the waist band down twice.”

Kaitlin squirmed and pulled her sheet higher.

“Twice. He’s your freaking 98% match, Kaitlin. Give it all you’ve got.”