Page 96 of Not Made to Last

Rhys

Liv’s mouth opens, shuts, again and again, and I watch, confused, until I realize what I’ve just revealed.

“You’ve been to juvie?”

I genuinely have no fucking clue what I was thinking, and maybe that’s the problem. I wasn’t thinking at all. But my time at the detention center has been on my mind lately, and so maybe that’s why it slipped out the way it did. “Yes,” I answer, then heave out a sigh. “Obviously, it’s not a well-known fact, so I’d appreciate if it stayed between us.”

“Right.” Liv shakes her head, as if clearing her thoughts. “Of course, yeah.” And then comes the silence I’d expect from anyone in her situation. Not that I have a lot of experience with it. The people who already know about that part of my past are either family or were there to experience it alongside me.

I’ve never had to tell the story.

Never had to explain the how, why, when.

But the way Liv’s looking at me now—discomfort mixed with unease—I feel compelled to give hersomething. With a heavysigh, I stand next to her again, rocking the SUV when I rest my weight on it. “Do you remember Curtis?”

“Ah, so I’m not the only one versed in subject changes,” she muses, and I don’t respond to that. I just wait. “If you mean your cop friend, Curtis… The one who showed up at my house, entered my home and proceeded to invade every inch of my privacy…thatCurtis? Then yes, he’s kind of hard to forget.”

If I didn’t have a good read on Olivia, I’d think she was talking shit. But she’s just being a smartass. Petty as hell, but still… a smartass.

“I met him in juvie.”

“Oh.” After a beat of silence, she asks, “He was in juvie with your or…”

“He was a guard,” I tell her, then slide down the car until my ass hits the concrete. I’m exhausted. The memories that usually consume my dreams are working overtime while I’m awake, so it’s safe to say that sleep hasn’t been my friend lately. Nor is it my enemy. Knees bent, I rest my forearms on them and wait for Liv to mimic my position. Instead, she sits opposite, so we’re facing each other, and it’s a move I wasn’t expecting, so I sure as shit wasn’t prepared to be eye to eye like this.

I avert my gaze and look down at my hands, unable to face her. “I know you want to askwhyI was there, but truthfully, I can’t say. Just know that I don’t regret it…” My throat closes in as the memories flood my mind. My knees bounce, uncontrollable, until?—

Until Liv grasps the tips of my fingers—the touch so light I have to physically see the connection to know that it’s real. “You don’t have to…” she says, just above a whisper.

But I’m already past that point, and so is she. According to the contract between Liv and my mom—Liv was never to ask about my past. Truth is, if she had, I probably would have toldher. Nother, but Mercedes. And yes, I realize they’re the same person, but try telling my brain that.

Liv’s still grasping my fingers when I feel the need to tell her, “I was only in there for six months, but… it was brutal. The absolute worst time of my life.”

“Rhys…”

I force my eyes up and onto hers and immediately look back down again because I know what she’s thinking. “No,” I rush out. “I wasn’t assaulted—sexually—if that’s what you’re wondering, but… a guy like me, with a face like this, in a place like that…” I push forward, grasp her fingers that had been holding mine, and guide them to my lips. I press her fingers to the deepest scar there and ignore the tightening in my chest when I hear her shaky exhale. “That ones from this motherfucker of a guard, Williams, who ran his own little gang in there.” Then I lower my head between my shoulders and place her fingers on the back of my head, right over those scars. “Sixteen stitches,” I murmur. “From the leader of that gang.” I hold out my hand between us, palm down, and run her touch over the scar tissue on my middle finger. “Five boys almost beat the life out of me, then held me up while one put my hand on the doorframe and continuously kicked the door closed on my fingers… all while that piece-of-shit guard watched.” I know Liv’s crying only by the way her hands tremble, the way her breaths fall shakily between us. But I don’t look at her. Ican’t. “I can still hear his laugh,” I continue. It used to only be in my dreams, but ever since I found out the truth about what Liv and my mom did, I’ve been hearing iteverywhere. “It’s like a fucking soundtrack to my nightmares. That day… it was the one and only time I cried out in pain. And that cry is how Curtis found me. I was fifteen and scared out of my mind, and I thought I was strong… invincible.” I almost laugh at the thought. “But Curtis—he taught me what true strength was. Through discipline, hard work, and mental mindshifts. Andbooks. God, those books got me through endless days of darkness.”

“The Count of Monte Cristo…” Liv whispers, and my eyes snap to hers.

I nod, releasing her hand so I can wipe the endless tears staining her cheeks. I’m not heartless. I realize that both versions of the girl I’ve come to know feelsomethingfor me, whatever it is, and I know what I’m saying is hurting her. “All human wisdom is contained in these two words…”

“Wait and hope,” she finishes for me.

I attempt a smile but fall short when I remember how Mercedes and I spent an entire night talking about the book after she’d read it and how Olivia keeps a copy in her dollhouse—her self-proclaimed most prized possession. I release her face and sit back against the car, angry at myself for allowing our closeness to let me forget she lied to me.

A lot.

After clearing my throat, I disassociate from all other emotions and push forward. “My mom and sister used to visit me every other day, but when the beatings became a regular thing, I forced them to stop.” Some days, I was still bleeding from the night before, and I didn’t want them to see me like that. But they still showed up, like clockwork, and I refused to go out and see them—no matter how hard Curtis tried to convince me otherwise. Eventually, it was only my mom who would sit in that room. Waiting. Hoping. And that hope never ebbed. Even once I was out. “I guess that was the beginning of me pushing them away… and after a while, it just became too hard to let them back in. That’s why…”

“That’s why she askedmeto try,” Liv says, and I glance up at her, nodding.

“She’s my mom… and she felt like she had no other choice,” I say, and I don’t know why I feel the need to explain. “I can’t continue to be mad at her.”

Liv nods, her eyes overflowing with tears again. “But you can continue to be mad at me?”

“I don’t know where else to direct my feelings…”

“I understand,” she says, and I don’t know if shetrulydoes, but it doesn’t matter. I can’t get caught up in her heartbreak more than my own. “You said your mom and sister visited you a lot… what about your dad?”

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