Page 105 of Flare

He set to, banging pans, and throwing bowls and whisks onto the countertop with all the promise of a hell of a mess. “Clean your shit up when you’re done,” I reminded him.

“Yes, Dad.” The kitchen suddenly fell silent as Jack no doubt realised what he said, and my heart lodged in my throat as I waited for the throwaway comment or sarcasm to cover the awkwardness of the moment.

It never came.

“You want me to make extra?” Jack appeared beside the breakfast bar, his expression carefully neutral.

“No, thanks... son.” I grinned and he flipped me off, but a smile tugged at his lips, and he quickly turned away. We were finally getting there.

“And stop watching me,” he grumbled, pouring flour into the bowl. “It’s creeping me out. Take your pining arse somewhere else.”

He had a point. I grabbed my phone in case Rhys texted, because of course I fucking did, and headed up to my bedroom to collect a load of laundry. Keep busy, right? I got as far as catching sight of my red tie lying like a lonely fucking accusing question mark in the middle of the rumpled bed, and my eyes pricked with tears.

I knew the question it asked, and I sure as hell knew the answer. Both were a single name. Rhys. I slumped on the bed and pressed his pillow to my face, breathing him in. Vanilla from my bodywash, strawberry from his favourite lube that I’d switched to as soon as I knew, and the dark heady musk that belonged to only him.

“Fuck, fuck!”

I jumped to my feet and tore the sheets and pillowcases off the bed, then kicked them into the hall, my cheeks damp with a fear I couldn’t face. Spinning back to the bed, I caught sight of Rhys’s socks peeking out from under the mattress base and came to a sudden stop. Of all the stupid things to flay my heart. His socks. Plain black with nose-to-tail bears looped around the top. I smiled like an idiot. Such a Rhys thing.

I picked them up and sat on the bed. Then I pulled them on one by one and stared at my toes, feeling positively certifiable. His socks. They didn’t even fucking fit.

I loved the man more than I could say.

“Just so you know, I’m taking notes.”

My gaze jerked up to find Jack leaning on the door jamb with a plate full of pancakes, watching me with a huge smile in place.

I rolled my eyes and pushed off the bed. “I’ll be back... sometime.” I grabbed my keys and wallet and headed for the front door. “I have something I need to do. Put that load in the wash, will you?”

Jack’s eyes bugged at the mound of bed linen on the hall floor. “Ew.”

I snorted. “Exactly what I say every time I washyoursheets. Get over it.”

* * *

An hour later via a quick trip to the local Sunday craft market, I stared up at Rhys’s empty flat and sighed. At least I thought it was empty. If he was there, he wasn’t answering the door, and of course he still wasn’t answering his phone. I scooted down in my seat. He had to come back sometime. I dialled Rafe’s number, then reached for the paper and pen I carried in the glove box and settled in for the long haul.

“Beck?”

I startled awake at the knock on my driver’s window and turned to find Leon staring at me. Shit. I glanced at my phone. 2:00 p.m. Over two hours since I’d parked. I dropped the window and rubbed at my eyes.

“Thought it was you out here. You waiting for Rhys?” He eyed me dubiously and I read between the lines.What the hell are you doing sitting here in your car?

“Um, yeah.” I pushed myself to a sit and looked up to the flat windows. “Is he here?”

“Is he...?” His lips twitched. “Have you tried his phone?” he asked sardonically.

I’m pretty sure I blushed bright red. “He’s, um, not answering.” I avoided those shrewd grey eyes.

“Aha. So, you had a fight then?”

I shrugged. “A disagreement.”

“Right.” A full-on smile this time. “Well then, no, I haven’t seen or heard him, and I’ve been here since ten. If he’s in the flat, I generally hear him walking around or his music.”

“Oh.” My heart fell in a disappointed ball in my chest.

“Do you want me to tell him you were here if I see him? I’ll be around till late tonight.”

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