Page 109 of Not Made to Last

And Max.

And the stillness that surrounded us.

At least that’s how it felt.

I know, in reality, that was far from what happened, but most days, when the memories of that night flood my mind, that’s all I can remember.

The stillness.

I don’t know how many times Rhys’s face lowers to that bowl, but eventually, he no longer needs me to guide him. He does it himself, holding air in his lungs for longer than I’m comfortable… and when he brings his face back up again, I run a towel over his eyes first, then his entire face.

“I love you,” I whisper, in between dunks.

And we repeat the process. Again and again. And I don’t know how much time passes while he does this, and I don’t care.

I’ll wait for an eternity for my hope to arrive.

With every ice bath to his face, his shoulders loosen, his breaths even, and his vision clears.

And then comes the stillness.

The silence.

“Liv,” he breathes, his hands reaching for mine. He pulls me toward him, and I willingly fall into his arms. For minutes, he holds me, drenching me in his embrace. “Please, Liv…”

“What do you need?” I choke out.

“You,” he says. “I needyou… take me with you.”

I glance over my shoulder at the three bodies all huddled together, holding on to each other as they watch us. “My car’s outside the gates. The keys are still in the ignition.” I focus on Mr. Garrett. “Please bring it up to the top of the driveway.”

“Rhys, no!” his mom cries. “Stay, so we can?—”

“Let him go,” his sister cuts in, an edge of finality in her tone. She moves away from her parents and kneels next to Rhys, cups his face in her tiny, shaky hands. “You’re a hundred percent of my fifty, Rhys.”

Dominic’s sitting on the bottom of the stairs when I open the door, and he stands when Rhys and I enter. “Is everything okay?” he asks, rushing toward me. “Jesus, Ollie, you’re bleeding.”

“What?” Rhys speaks for the first time since we left his house. He turns to me just as Dom reaches for my forehead.

I shy away from his touch, and he lowers his hand. “I’m fine,” I tell them, pressing my fingers to the spot on my head that’sbeen throbbing. I know I hit it on something when I jumped down from the fence, but I didn’t realize…

“I’m sorry,” Rhys whispers, his gaze lowered.

“Stop.” I take his one hand in both of mine and face Dom head on. “I’m fine,” I repeat. “I promise. And I promise I’ll explain everything, but right now…” I trail off, shifting my eyes to Rhys standing beside me. “We just need to get to bed.”

Dom looks from Rhys to me, and whatever he sees has him nodding slowly. “Okay.”

“Thank you,” I mouth, before turning us away.

As soon as we’re in my room, I tell Rhys to get into bed while I clean up. I wait until he’s sitting on the edge of my bed to go to the bathroom, close the door between us. The harshness of the bathroom lights has me squinting, and I stand in front of the mirror, unable to recognize my reflection. Eyes half-hooded, blood trickling from my hairline… I run the tap and soak a washcloth under the stream, then dab at the crimson coating my flesh.

The door opens, and Rhys appears, stepping right up to me. I lower my gaze when he takes the washcloth from me to finish what I started. “I’m sorry,” he says again, and I shake my head.

“Please, don’t be sorry.”

“You were the only one…” he murmurs, sniffing once. He turns me to him, lifting me up so I can sit on the counter. Then he holds my head in his hands, wiping a line across my forehead. The warmth of his harsh breaths coats my face, and I stare into his eyes—his sad, all-consuming slate-colored eyes. “You were the only one I thought to call. The only one who could stop me. But I didn’t think…”

I grasp his wrists, pull them down and wrap my legs around him to bring him closer. So close I can feel his heartbeat change the air between us. “Didn’t think what?”

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