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CHAPTER SIXTEEN

RHYS

The sky is a soft grey as if the world is holding its breath.

It’s the kind of day that settles into your bones, pressing down on your chest and refusing to let go.

The kind of day when grief feels louder, more permanent. The chapel sits quietly on the outskirts of New Hope, a small, whitewashed building surrounded by trees and the kind of silence that feels heavy with memory.

Ashley stands at the front of the chapel, her back straight, her black dress fluttering slightly in the breeze every time the door opens behind us. Her brother, Jasper, is by her side, holding her hand but not holding her up—Ashley’s doing that all on her own. Like she always has. Her face is unreadable, carved in stillness.

I’m sitting in the third pew with Ally beside me and our friends beside her. She hasn’t said much since we arrived, and honestly, neither have I. Her fingers are laced together tightly in her lap, and every now and then, I catch her glancing towards Ashley, like she’s waiting for her to crack, to cry, to fall apart. But she doesn’t.

We don’t belong here.

Not really.

We’re not here to mourn a man we feared more than we knew.

We’re here for Ashley.

The room is filled with people dressed in black, but none of them are really grieving. Most are here because they have to be—to be seen, to check a box, to pay respects to a man who ruled half this town through fear and money. Whispers echo through the rows like leaves rustling in the wind. Old men in tailored suits. Sharp women with colder eyes. They offer tight smiles and nods that mean nothing.

Tony Slade wasn’t a father. He was a storm that never let up.

Ashley hasn’t cried once. Not during the service. Not before it. Not after.

She just watches.

Like she’s waiting for it to finally feel real.

The minister speaks in vague, practiced tones. Words like “legacy,” and “complicated man,” and “pillar of the community.”

Bullshit.

I feel Ally shift beside me. I glance at her, and she rolls her eyes just enough for me to notice. I want to reach for her hand, but I don’t. Not here.

After the service, the crowd filters out to the front lawn, mingling under the cloud-heavy sky. The air smells like wet stone and the faint perfume of fresh-cut flowers. There’s a chill in the wind brushing against the back of my neck, unsettling in its softness. Spring can be weird; some days, it’s warm, and others, it’s cold enough for a hoodie.

I catch Ally watching Ashley, concern flickering behind her eyes. She starts to move towards her, but I squeeze her hand and nod.

“Let me talk to her first.”

Ally nods and lets me go.

Ashley stands near a tall arrangement of lilies and white roses that doesn’t feel earned. They don’t match her. Don’t belong here. She looks like a statue carved from grief and steel.

“Hey,” I say softly.

She turns to me, lips pressed into a flat line. Her eyes are dry but glassy. Her makeup pristine. Her voice is even when she says, “You came.”

“Of course I came.”

She swallows, glancing back at Jasper, who gives her a soft smile and walks a few steps away, giving us space. I may not like him, but it’s clear he cares for his sister.

Ashley crosses her arms. “I thought maybe you wouldn’t. After everything.”

“Ash.”

She sighs. “I don’t even know what to say.”

“Then let me.”

She looks at me, tired and worn. Not broken, but not whole either. She hasn’t been whole for a long time.

“It’s over,” I tell her. “All of it. The pretending. The arrangement. The lies. It’s done now.” I confirm out loud everything we already know.

She nods. “I know.”

I pause. “Are you okay?”

Ashley exhales. “I don’t think I’ve ever really been okay. But I’m getting there. Caitlin helps.”

I glance towards her girlfriend, who’s watching us carefully from a distance. They can’t be seen together yet, but Caitlin showed up despite everything. “She seems good for you.”

A smile finally graces Ashley's face. “She is. She was the only part of my life that felt real. And I was so scared he’d find out. That he’d do something to her. To me.”

I reach out, placing a hand gently on her shoulder. “He can’t hurt you anymore.”

Ashley nods, blinking quickly. “I never got to tell him. Never got to tell him I’m not sorry for who I am.”

I don’t say anything. Because what is there to say?

“I hated him,” she says quietly. “And I hate that a part of me still wanted him to love me.”

Tears finally start to fall. One. Then two. She doesn’t wipe them away immediately.

I pull her into a hug, and she clings to me tighter than I expected. Her body shakes in my arms, and it hits me how long she’s been holding it all in. Months. Years. Maybe her whole damn life.

“You were brave,” I tell her. “You survived. And now you get to live.”

She pulls back, wiping her face with her sleeve. “I don’t want to survive anymore, Rhys. I want to be .”

I nod. “Then go. Be.”

Her eyes flick towards Ally, who stands off to the side, watching us with something between patience and hesitation.

Ashley exhales. “She’s always been it for you.”

I don’t deny it.

Ashley lets out a small, broken laugh. “I was the cover. She’s the truth.”

I nod slowly. “She is.”

Ashley wipes her face one more time and squares her shoulders. “I’m moving out soon.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah. I need a clean start. Caitlin and I are getting a place on the other side of town. Still close. But far enough.”

I smile. “You deserve that.”

She nods, then reaches out and squeezes my hand. “Thank you. For protecting me. Even when it cost you something.”

“I’ll always protect you,” I tell her, meaning it.

Ashley smiles, then turns towards Ally.

“Go get her.”

I take a deep breath, walking towards the girl who has always had my heart.

Ally looks at me, her eyes searching. “You okay?”

I nod. “Yeah. Are you?”

“Yeah. I think so.”

We don’t say much else. There’s no need.

Because something just shifted.

And this time, it’s finally real.