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CHAPTER FOURTEEN

RHYS

I’m one wrong move away from unravelling.

Ally’s been pushing every button I have lately—not in the way she usually does, with her sharp tongue and smartass comebacks. No, this is different. This version of her is quieter. Colder.

Fractured. Every time we make progress, I notice something off about her, and she starts pushing me away again. She doesn’t think I see the dizzy spells or when she zones out. But I noticed everything and have started to see the pattern.

It’s like watching someone you love walk straight toward a cliff, refusing to look down. And I’m stuck behind her, arms out, screaming her name, knowing damn well she’s going to fall—and she won’t let me catch her.

I see it in her eyes—the hollow tension beneath her jokes, the way she pretends her balance hasn’t shifted when her whole world’s tilting sideways. She’s running on fumes and stubbornness. And the more I try to get through to her, the more she shuts me out.

I can’t decide if I want to shake her or hold her.

I find her in the kitchen, standing on her toes, trying to grab a bag of chips from the top shelf like she hasn’t been dizzy three times this week. I watch her sway slightly, just enough to make my heart drop straight to the floor.

“Ally,” I snap, already crossing the room. My hands are on her waist before she can even pretend she’s fine. She stiffens but doesn’t push me away.

There’s a second—just one—where she leans into me.

Then, her spine straightens, and the mask slides back into place.

“I had it,” she mutters.

“Stop it, Ally.” My voice is low and controlled, but the storm underneath is anything but.

Because I’m scared.

And I don’t do scared.

She clutches the bag like it’s some kind of shield like chips are going to save her from this conversation.

“Stop what , Rhys?” she fires back, already on the defence. “Breathing? Existing? Being slightly hungry?”

There it is. That bite in her voice. The one she uses when she’s trying to deflect. To make me the villain in a fight she picked with herself.

“Pretending you’re fine,” I say. “When you’re not.”

Her eyes flash, but there’s something behind it. Something haunted.

“I am fine.”

I laugh. Not because it’s funny. Because it’s so far from the truth, it feels like a bad joke. “You passed out.”

Her expression shifts. The faintest flicker of something real.

Fear.

Or maybe the memory of it.

“That happened once, and it was days ago,” she says, brushing it off like we both imagined it.

“No, it didn’t,” I push. “You’ve been dizzy for weeks. You’re barely eating. You zone out in the middle of conversations. I’m not an idiot, Ally.”

She shrugs. “I didn’t ask you to play doctor.”

“No, you didn’t. But you also didn’t ask me to care, and I do that anyway.”

That lands harder than I expect. Her jaw clenches, but her hands are shaking now. She tries to hide it by opening the chip bag with too much force, the crinkle louder than it needs to be. The sound grates against my nerves.

“I don’t want to do this with you right now,” she says, popping a chip into her mouth like that’s the end of the conversation.

I rake a hand through my hair, frustration surging through me like wildfire. “Then stop giving me reasons to be this pissed off.”

Wrong thing to say.

Her head snaps up, eyes blazing. “Wow. I’m such a burden, huh? Sorry my inconvenient little health issues are messing with your mood.”

“That’s not what I said.”

“It’s what you meant.”

“It’s not ,” I repeat, stepping closer. I’m so close now I can feel the heat of her skin and see the slight tremble in her fingers. “This isn’t about me being pissed. This is about me being scared out of my fucking mind because I care about you more than I should, and you’re acting like none of this matters.”

She opens her mouth to argue, but nothing comes out. Her lips part, then close again. Her chest rises and falls too quickly.

And maybe I should walk away.

Give her space.

Say something calm and rational.

But I don’t.

Because I’ve been holding this in for too long, and it’s clawing its way out.

“God, Ally,” I mutter, and then, before either of us can talk ourselves out of it—I kiss her.

Not soft. Not careful. Not even close.

It’s messy. Desperate.

The kind of kiss that feels like a free fall.

Like if we don’t grab on to each other right now, we’ll both crash.

She gasps against my mouth, frozen for a second. But then her hands fist in my shirt, and she pulls me closer, responding with a force that makes my knees go weak. Her lips are warm and wild, moving against mine like we’ve done this a hundred times, like we should’ve done this a hundred times.

I back her into the counter, one hand on her cheek, the other gripping her hip like she might vanish if I let go. Her body arches against mine, and my pulse hammers in my throat.

This isn’t safe. It isn’t simple.

But it’s real.

And I’ll take real over perfect any day.

Then—

“Jesus Christ,” a voice cuts through the kitchen.

We rip apart like we’ve been electrocuted.

Ashley stands in the doorway. One brow arched, arms crossed, amusement written all over her face like she just walked in on her favourite soap opera.

“Well,” she says, “that explains everything .”

Ally’s eyes go wide, her lips still kiss-swollen, and she swipes the back of her hand across her mouth like it’ll erase what just happened. “How long were you standing there?”

Ashley shrugs. “Long enough to know you two are absolute shit at hiding your feelings.”

I exhale, dragging a hand down my face. “You gonna tell the others?”

She smirks. “Not my style. But I have a feeling we’re past the point of keeping this quiet.”

“Why do I feel like there’s a ‘but’ coming?” Ally asks warily, grabbing her chips again like they’re going to save her from this conversation, too.

Ashley steps aside.

And then Caitlin walks in.

Everything freezes.

My jaw tightens. Ally just blinks.

“Holy shit,” she breathes, it’s the first time we’ve seen them together.

Caitlin grins, looping an arm around Ashley’s shoulder. “Hi.”

Ally’s head swivels from Caitlin to Ashley and back again. “What the actual hell?”

Ashley rolls her eyes. “I figured it was time.”

“Time for what?” Ally blurts, flustered and defensive, and probably too shaken to process anything else.

“For this,” Caitlin says, clasping Ashley’s hand.

I glance at Ally. Her face is doing this weird thing—like she wants to be angry, shocked, and impressed all at once. She gestures between us and them, trying to connect the dots of a very confusing math problem.

“We’re not telling anyone,” Ally mutters, voice laced with exasperation, like if she can just say it aloud enough times, it’ll still be true.

Ashley winks. “Uh-huh. Sure.”

Ally groans like the world has personally betrayed her.

I don’t move.

Not yet.

Ashley glances at me, her grin smug as hell. “You look like you just survived a natural disaster.”

I shudder. “You’re enjoying this way too much.”

“Maybe.” She pops a chip from Ally’s forgotten bag into her mouth. “But you know what? It was about damn time.”

And as much as I want to argue?—

She’s right.

But time won’t matter if Ally keeps pushing me away.

If she keeps hiding whatever’s really going on inside her.

Because kissing her again didn’t fix anything.

It just broke open the dam.