Finally, she drops the pen and splays her hands down flat on her desk. “I’m very concerned, Ms. Miller. I’ve already spoken to Rhys about those concerns, but I wanted to approach you as well.”
Oh. God.
“I can explain,” I blurt out, even though there really isn’t an explanation for Rhys and me besides the truth. Professor Cameron isn’t having it though, because she shakes her head.
“I honestly meant to pull you aside yesterday during our lesson, but you left before I had an opportunity.” She takes a breath, like she’s about to come down on me hard. I glare down at the corner of her desk, waiting for the shit storm to begin, but then she says, “As you are aware from your midterms in my class, you’re struggling with dictation. I just want to make certain that you have all the tools you need to finish this semester successfully.”
“What?” I ask breathlessly, and she shoots me an exasperated look.
“Dictation.” She emphasizes each syllable slowly. “Believe me, I’m also surprised given how much you struggled with sight singing at first. While you’ve improved significantly in that regard, you really need to focus on your ear training. I would like to see you bring your grade up during finals next month.”
I feel numb all over. She doesn’t know about Rhys and me. For the first time ever, I’m actually ecstatic to be getting a lecture about school. “Sure,” I say, pushing past the nervous lump in my throat. “Do you have any suggestions?”
After Professor Cameron gives me a few pointers that she’s convinced will help me, she dismisses me from her office. Despite the sudden drop in temperature, I practically dance back to my dorm because I’m so relieved she hadn’t called me out about messing around with Rhys. Just before I go into the building, my phone buzzes in my pocket, and I can’t keep the stupid grin from my face when I see a text from Rhys.
5:48 PM: No lesson tomorrow. Pack a bag.
Ducking into my dorm’s lobby, which is nice and warm, I take a seat outside the resident advisor station and type my response. I JUST left a meeting with Cameron about focusing harder on music and you’re cancelling practice?
5:50 PM: Yes. Yes I am.
I glide the tip of my tongue over my teeth, wondering if he was joking or being serious when he asked me to pack a bag. Where are we going? I message him. Getting up, I start to head to the elevator to go upstairs to my room, but then someone falls into step beside me. When I glance over to see Daniel, I roll my eyes. Judging by his Under Armour t-shirt and gym shorts—and the fact there’s sweat dripping from his short blond hair—he looks like he just finished a hard work out.
“I can’t say I’m not slightly happy to say this—but long time, no see,” I say as we pace toward the elevator. Since we’re the only two who go inside, we stand on opposite sides. I press the seventh floor button and lift my eyebrow at him.
“Ten,” he says and doesn’t take a breath before adding, “How’s Corinne.”
I punch the button for his floor and lean my back against the elevator wall. “I think she’s handling things pretty well.” Jabbing my tongue in my cheek, I cross my arms over my chest. “I’m sure she’d appreciate it if you came by and asked her yourself.”
Rubbing the back of his neck, he looks down at the space between us. “I tried, but she’s never there when I show up. She doesn’t even come to Baseball House anymore.”
Since I’m sure my roommate’s lack of partying lately has a little to do with her current relationship status, which I fully approve of, I shrug. “She doesn’t have to get drunk with you for you to tell her you’re sorry about her dad.” The elevator comes to a stop, and I walk off, turning around to face Daniel. My phone vibrates in my pocket again, but I ignore it for a moment to say, “I’ll let her know you asked about her.”
Once I’m inside my room, I check my final text from Rhys.
5:53 PM: Just pack the bag, Evelyn. I’ll pick you up at four tomorrow.
Chapter Twenty-Two
It’s a few minutes after seven PM when Rhys enters Roanoke and five minutes after that when he slows his silver Impreza to a crawl right in front of a red brick, ranch-style home. He backs into the driveway, parking his silver Impreza directly behind an older model Kia SUV.
I pull in a deep breath through my nose.
Maybe it’s just the fact that I’m a bad driver, but I never back into someone’s driveway unless they’re close family. Since he’s been mum about our destination since we left Richmond three hours ago, a sudden burst of nervousness takes over me, sending waves of panic through me. That old, selfish part of me is screaming in the back of my head how much she hopes he hasn’t brought me here to meet his family.
When he comes around the car to open my door, I gaze up at him, whispering in a small voice, “Where are we?” He holds his hand out to me. I take it, and he pulls me out the car, his big hands gripping my hips. Bending his head, he kisses me once, twice, before sucking my bottom lip between his teeth. Since I still have no clue where we are, I resist the urge to dig my fingers into his black hair.
Surely he wouldn’t be kissing me like this right in front of his mother’s home, right?
But then he reluctantly pulls his beautiful mouth away from mine and immediately confirms all my suspicions. “My niece’s birthday is on Monday. Since I’ll be working at the bar most of the week, I wanted to take her out to do something special tonight.” I squeeze my eyes together, and he cups my cheek, stroking his thumb along my smooth skin. “Get that worried look off your face, Evelyn. I promise I’m not gonna try to talk you out of your panties while we’re here.”
“Thanks for the reassurance,” I say between my teeth, causing him to chuckle. After he grabs our bags, he guides me up the narrow walkway to the front door and rings the bell. While we wait for someone to answer, I turn to him and ask in an even voice, “Why did you—why didn’t you tell me you were bringing me here? To meet your family?”
“Would you have come if I told you I was taking you to see my family?”
Although the answer to that question is a firm hell no, I swallow hard and say, “I’m not sure.”
My heartbeat races as he leans his face close to mine, examining my expression. “I can take you home.” It is not a threat but a question, but I shake my head. At last, the front door swings open. The woman I recognize from the photo on his dresser is staring back at us and beaming. In person, Rhys’ mother is stunning—tall with black hair streaked with strands of gray and the same startling eyes that haunt me even when he and I aren’t together.
Her blue green eyes move cautiously from me to him, and then she smiles and motions us inside. “I thought you said you couldn’t make it!” she exclaims once we’re standing in the small living room. She jerks Rhys to her, and I look away. Focus on a wall full of photos in front of me. I can easily recognize a younger Rhys in several pictures thanks to his striking sea blue eyes, and I can only guess that the boy is Owen.
Unlike my parents, I never went to any of the hearings following Lily’s death. The only image I have in my head of Owen Delane is the tiny mug shot that appeared in the newspaper when he was charged with hit and run and manslaughter.
The ache in the back of my throat that comes from looking at these photos, from being here in this house, makes it difficult for me to swallow. To breathe.
“Evelyn.” Rhys’ breath warms my ear, and I untangle myself from my thoughts and face him with a hesitant smile. He gestures to his mom who gives me a friendly nod. “This is my mother. Mom, this is Evelyn Miller.”