Page 77 of Not Made to Last

Until now.

And whatever that sudden realization looks like on me has Rhys’s entire demeanor shifting. His shoulders drop. His eyes do too. And he takes a step forward. Just one. But he doesn’t come to me. Why would he?

“I didn’t mean that I don’t care about you, or your brothers being in the situation you were in, because you know I do. And I don’t care that you agreed to do it. I’m not even mad that you signed a fucking contract whereIwas the clause.” His anger returns, replaces his sympathy. “I’m pissed that you didn’t tell me.”

“I tried,” I cry.

“When?”

“Friday!” I rush out. “I went to your house, but?—”

His disbelieving scoff cuts me off. “Right. When you realized I wasn’t going anywhere. But prior to that, you were more than happy to let me believe we were something more than we were!” The corner of his lip lifts into a snarl, and his eyes search mine, looking for… something. “Was any of it real?”

“Of course it was!”

“I can’t even tell your bullshit from your truths.” And then he laughs, cynical. “I don’t even know you.”

“Yes, you do,” I urge. “You know me better than anyone!”

He drops his head again, shakes it.

I take one more step closer to him. “Sometimes, I think she knew…”

He lifts his gaze but keeps his head down. “What are you talking about?”

“Your mom,” I explain, my chest rising and falling with each of my cries. “Maybe she could tell, you know? She could see that we needed each other. Maybe she knew that… that we were meant to be…”

“Maybe.” He laughs. Right in my face. Cold.Ruthless. “But we’re sure as fuck not made to last.”

41

Olivia

Something is different.

And it’s more than what’s happening between Rhys and me.

Something is off.

I left Rhys’s office with enough time to slip my mask back on, hide my emotions, and make it to first period. But, as soon as I stepped foot in the classroom, Ifeltit.

Something iswrong.

I should’ve left then, and I don’t know why I didn’t, because by second period, all eyes were on me.

By third, the whispers had begun.

And by lunch, those whispers had turned into openly snide remarks.

“Mole.”

“Spy.”

“Traitor.”

It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure it out. Someone has worked out who I am. Or, more importantly, who my brother is. I just hope that someone isn’t Rhys because it’s one thing to hateme for what I’ve done. It’s another to take that hatred out on my family.

He couldn’t.

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