Quiet Longing (Quiet Love #2)

9.

Charli

We’d been playing Mario Kart and chomping away quietly for a few minutes before I chanced a peek at Rhys. I was a little obsessed with his profile, the dark eyebrows arched over thick lashes, a straight, slightly larger than average nose, and lips that were fuller at the bottom than the top.

“What?” he asked, hands on the controller as his eyes flicked briefly to mine. “Have I got crumbs on my face?”

A gentle smile tugged at my lips. “Nope. I was just admiring how pretty you are.”

“Funny,” Rhys said, and I realised he thought I was being sarcastic.

“You don’t agree that you’re pretty?” I questioned curiously.

His brows drew together. “Is this some kind of Mean Girls trap?”

I chuckled, surprised he’d seen the movie. “I promise I’m not trying to Regina George you. Scout’s honour.”

He blew out a breath. “In that case, no, I’ve never considered myself pretty.”

“Handsome, then?”

He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his voice quiet when he responded, “No, not that either.”

“Well, I think you are.”

“You might need glasses,” he muttered.

“Hey,” I frowned, pressing pause on the game and setting my controller aside. “Don’t do that, okay? This world is full of people who’ll put us down. We don’t need to do it to ourselves, too.”

Rhys put his controller down then ran a hand through his hair. “You’re right. Sorry.” He lifted his gaze, those mesmerising blue eyes meeting mine. “Thank you for the compliment, Charli.”

“Much better, and you’re welcome. Also, feel free to return the favour.”

A faint smile curved his lips as his attention ran over me. It was friendly at first, but his expression turned more serious, his eyes hooded as they traced a path over my nose, cheeks, eyes and lips. My skin heated, and I wondered if my light-hearted flirting had given me more than I’d bargained for when they then travelled along the bare skin at my collarbone. I wore a loose, V-neck sweater. It dipped low, showing a hint of cleavage.

I noticed Rhys’ throat bob on a hard swallow, his voice gruffer than before when he said, “You have nice … skin.” A long pause ensued before he winced and continued, “Sorry, that was a weird thing to say. I didn’t mean … um, your eyes. You have very pretty eyes, Charli.”

My heart warmed at his awkward embarrassment while my stomach whirled at him telling me I had nice skin and pretty eyes. “It wasn’t weird. And thank you,” I replied, mustering a smile even though the way he looked at me had my pulse hammering. “I get my tan from my dad. Italian genes.”

“Your dad was Italian?”

“Hence the last name, Moretti. He was an amazing man. My best friend. We used to love cooking together; though, one time, when I was ten, I mistakenly put salt instead of sugar into a cake recipe. Not sure he ever forgave me for that.” I laughed fondly.

“Sounds like a good memory.” Something sad passed behind his eyes.

“It is,” I replied gently and wondered if he was thinking about his own father, their troubled relationship. Or at least what I suspected was a troubled relationship. I suddenly wished I hadn’t brought up my dad, especially if it only functioned to remind Rhys of whatever problems his family were going through.

“What happened at the party after I left last night?” I asked to change the subject, my voice deceptively casual.

“Other than the worst planned prank in history, you mean?” Rhys replied wryly before picking up a paprika flavoured cracker and shoving it in his mouth.

“Yes,” I winced. “Other than that. And sorry for the reminder.”

“It’s fine. At least in future I can avoid any involvement in pranks masterminded by Tristan,” he said with a hint of humour.

“Sounds like a firm plan,” I agreed.

Rhys shrugged his shoulder. “Not much else happened. We just hung out.”

“Hung out” could mean a lot of things, and I was very curious about those other girls at the party. With Rhys’ self-esteem issues, they could’ve flirted with him, and it might not even have registered. Selfishly, I hoped that was the case. I hoped Rhys didn’t realise he could have any girl he wanted if he only put himself out there because then he might turn his attention elsewhere instead of spending time playing video games with me.

“So, none of the scary hot girls tried to talk to you after I left?” I prodded, immediately regretting my inability to stem my curiosity. Rhys cast me a speculative look as he ate another cracker, shaking his head.

“Thankfully, no. That would’ve been terrifying.” I could tell by his tone he was only half joking.

A laugh escaped me. “Someday soon, you’re going to look back on this and wonder how you ever found the prospect of a pretty girl talking to you scary, Rhys. Mark my words.”

He pressed his lips together and picked the controller back up. “I talk to you fine, don’t I.”

My belly flipped at the offhand statement.

Had he really just said that? I didn’t know how to respond, so I quietly resumed playing the game, too, even while a pleased smile tugged at my lips. He thought I was pretty. Not just my eyes or my skin, but all of me. He considered me on the same level as the girls from last night, which I knew I wasn’t, but still. The fact Rhys saw me that way was almost thrilling. I was going to have butterflies for days, I could tell.

I was also inordinately pleased that nobody approached him at the party and that he hadn’t tried to talk to anyone either. My crush had grown to the point I’d become possessive of him, and that couldn’t be good. A part of me I wasn’t proud of liked that Rhys didn’t realise how appealing he was and that those girls were too blind to see it because, that way, I got to keep him all to myself.

The following morning I’d just gotten back from a walk on the beach and went straight to the kitchen for some coffee. The house was empty. Aunt Jo was out at her tennis lesson, Uncle Padraig was at work, Nuala was at the hairdresser, and I had no clue where the brothers and Rhys were.

Grabbing my e-reader, I decided to spend some time with my latest book as I brought my coffee into the living room and settled into a plush armchair. A little while later, a housekeeper let herself in, but she went upstairs first. It was strange to stay in a house with a maid. I’d noticed a bunch of my dirty clothes had been washed and put away when I got home the other day. I mean, I could certainly appreciate the convenience, but there was also a twinge of discomfort. I wasn’t sure I’d ever be the sort of person who could just let someone else clean up after me even if I was paying them. But that was my own personal issue. Greta, the housekeeper, always seemed in a cheerful mood, so I suspected my aunt and uncle were good clients.

The hum of the vacuum pulled me out of the story, and I glanced around the room. I was about to relocate to the bench at the end of the garden when my gaze caught on a collection of family photos displayed on one of the shelves. There were lots of Nuala and the boys, a few of the whole family, and then others of relatives I didn’t know, presumably from their mom’s side of the family.

One showed Aunt Jo when she was in her twenties with three other women. I immediately suspected they were her sisters because they all had the same brown eyes and similar features. I wondered what it might be like to have so many sisters, all close in age, the four of you growing up together. Being an only child, I’d always been fascinated by what it was like to have siblings.

I heard someone come in the front door, and then Nuala appeared a minute later, her long hair freshly trimmed and blow dried.

“You look great,” I exclaimed when I saw her.

She fluffed her hair and grinned. “Thanks, Charli. My stylist, Shona, is a genius. Have you had lunch yet? I was going to defrost some more of Chef Moira’s chili soup.”

“Sure, I could go for some soup,” I answered, and she seemed to note where my attention was focused.

“Mam is great at keeping all the family pictures together,” Nuala said fondly. “I love the old ones the best.”

“Right?” I agreed. “It’s like we’re all too skilled at posing nowadays. There was something beautifully unpretentious about people in old photos.”

“Like they weren’t expecting the picture to be taken,” Nuala added, coming to stand next to me. “So the result is something much more natural.” There was a pause, and I realised I was holding the picture of Aunt Jo and her sisters.

“Gosh, I haven’t looked at that one in forever. Mam is so young in it, and my aunts, wow, I forgot how gorgeous they all were.”

“A good looking family,” I agreed. “You look just like them. Did she have any brothers?”

“No, only sisters. Granddad John always wanted a boy, but it wasn’t to be,” Nuala said then pointed to the tallest sister. “That’s my aunt Faye. She and her husband moved to Australia and started a family there. We visit them and my little cousins every couple years, and sometimes they come here. The one with the darker blonde hair is my Aunt Julia. She lives nearby and works in finance. And the one on the far left is Nadine. She passed away before I was born,” Nuala finished sadly.

“Really? What happened to her?”

A shadow fell over Nuala’s features when she replied, “It’s so awful. Mam never told me the full story for years. When I was a kid, all I knew was that she was sick, but it turned out she struggled with mental illness and took her own life when she was only twenty-three.”

“Oh my goodness. That’s horrible.”

Nuala nodded, her mouth shaping into a sad line. “She had schizophrenia. It kind of freaks me out because it can be hereditary, but I try not to think about it too much. I go with Mam and Aunt Julia to visit her grave sometimes. Even though it’s been years, I can tell it still hurts them, what happened to her. I can’t imagine anything happening to Tristan or Derek. That would destroy me.”

I nodded, feeling suddenly solemn. I didn’t have siblings, but I knew about loss. I felt my dad’s absence every single day. My attention returned to the picture of Nuala’s poor aunt. It was sad when people died at any age, but twenty-three was tragically young. Nuala and I stared at the photo in quiet for a minute before she stepped away, exhaling heavily as though to clear the melancholy from her mind.

“I’ll go get started on that soup.”

“Yeah, great,” I replied and set the photo back down before following her into the kitchen. There was a hollowness in my stomach I couldn’t account for. Maybe it was thinking of Dad. I always felt an aching sadness whenever I thought about how we’d never talk again, never laugh or joke around together. He’d never smile at me in that way that made me feel completely and totally loved and protected.

***

The next two days passed quietly. I didn’t see much of Rhys because he was either working or visiting his mother, who I learned from Aunt Jo was staying at her sister’s house that was about thirty minutes away by car.

I missed him, had wanted to invite him to come play video games and eat snacks with me again, but he was always gone by the time I woke up, and I didn’t have his phone number to send a text. I considered asking Derek for it, but that might lead to another lecture on not taking advantage of his friend.

I didn’t have any shifts at the hotel, so I spent most of my time chilling with Nuala. I also discovered there was a swimming pool in the house. How could Nuala have failed to mention something as epic as a private pool? Well, it seemed she didn’t use it very often and claimed she sometimes forgot it was there since it was down on the basement level. I was rightfully outraged she could possibly forget about a whole swimming pool in her own goddamn house. I insisted on us taking a swim, and she led me downstairs and into a spacious pool room that also had a sauna and a hot tub. Like, where was I even staying?

“This is incredible. If I lived here, I’d go for a swim every morning.”

“You’re such a water baby,” Nuala said with a smile as she watched me dive in.

The next day, I was back at the hotel for an afternoon shift, and I still couldn’t get over the fact the Balfes had an indoor pool.

“Did you know about the pool?” I asked as soon as I joined Rhys at the dish washing station.

He quirked an eyebrow, glancing at me while he hosed down some dirty plates. “The pool?”

“The indoor pool in my cousins’ basement,” I explained. “I was very rudely kept in the dark about it until yesterday.”

The faintest grin curved his lips, lips I was becoming more and more preoccupied with lately. “Well, I apologise profusely for all your pain and suffering.”

A grin tugged at my lips, too, while I bumped him with my hip. “And so you should. I could’ve been swimming every day since I arrived. I might’ve had a bikini body by now if I’d been doing laps.”

Rhys glanced down at where I bumped him before his eyes rose to mine, a warmth in them that was almost indulgent. My chest tingled. I liked it when he looked at me that way. “I take it you like swimming, then?”

“It’s my preferred form of exercise, yes, though I’ve never had access to a private indoor pool before. This could be a game changer for me.”

Rhys nodded, returning his attention to the dishes, and I quietly began drying and placing them in the rack to be redistributed.

“What’s a bikini body?” he asked after a few moments of silence.

“Isn’t it self-explanatory? It’s a body that looks good in a bikini.”

Rhys cast me a quick glance, and there was the faintest hint of flirtation in his eyes when he answered, “I don’t know about a bikini, but you looked pretty good in that one-piece at the beach.”

His statement was so matter of fact it took me off guard, and I spent a moment wrangling the butterflies in my stomach before elbowing him in the side. “If you’re trying to butter me up so I’ll take over washing, it won’t work. You know I prefer to dry.”

Rhys sighed playfully, feigning like I was a chore to work with. “Such a princess.”

I smiled to myself as we resumed working. Things got hectic as soon as the dinner rush set in, and we didn’t have much time for talking. I couldn’t stop thinking about him commenting on my body, how he’d thought I looked good in my swimsuit that day at the beach. I shivered every time I remembered him uttering those words. I also really enjoyed him calling me a princess, the hint of teasing in his voice.

There was only a little over an hour left on our shifts when one of the hotel supervisors instructed us to go to the service entrance and load a food delivery onto carts to be brought into storage. I’d received food safety and manual handling training during my first few days at the hotel, but clearly, the manual handling went right over my head because I made the fatal error of not lifting from the knees. As soon as I picked up the heavy box, a sharp spike of pain shot up my spine, and I cried out a very unladylike curse word.

“Charli?” Rhys asked in concern, immediately at my side. I was too afraid to move, and the box was too heavy to just let it drop, so I stood there in agony, frozen in place and still holding it in a death grip.

“I think I did something to my back,” I said in a stiff, pained voice.

“Okay, stay still and let me take that.” Rhys gently took the box from me, and the relief was immediate. The pain in my back, which I noted was centred around my right shoulder, remained.

“You might have pulled a muscle,” Rhys said, slowly guiding me back into the hotel. “Do you think you can make it to the staff room so I can take a look?”

“Yes, I think so,” I managed, vaguely aware of his large, warm hand against my hip and his arm around my waist.

“Just try not to make any swift movements and hold your neck in the same position,” Rhys said, his voice soothing. I’d never injured my back like this before, so I had nothing to compare it to. All I knew was the pain was excruciating.

“Oh shite, what happened?” one of the other hotel workers asked when we entered the staff room.

“She did something to her back lifting boxes of tinned tomatoes,” Rhys explained, and somehow knowing an item as innocuous as tinned tomatoes did this to me was a little infuriating.

“Ah hell, that’s bad luck. Back pain is no joke. Do you need to go to the hospital?”

Rhys cast me a questioning look. “Do you?”

I shook my head. “It hurts, but I don’t think it requires a hospital visit.” I wasn’t sure how Irish medical care worked, but back home, seeing a doctor was expensive. I didn’t want to burden my uncle like that even if he was loaded. He was already being generous enough hosting me for the summer. Plus, Mom would blow a gasket if she found out her brother had to fork out for hospital bills. She’d insist on paying him back, and money had been tight lately.

The hotel worker left, and Rhys helped me over to a bench to sit. The pain was beginning to subside a little as I gripped the edge of the bench. Rhys knelt in front of me, his blue eyes etched with concern as his hands came to rest on my knees. The warmth of his palms momentarily distracted me from the pain, and I instinctively reached out, grabbing one of his hands. I interlaced our fingers, and he allowed me to do it, seeming to understand I needed the comfort. He gave a gentle squeeze, and I savoured the feel of his palm on mine alongside the soothing sweep of his thumb over the inside of my wrist.

“How are you now?” he asked, studying me intently.

“A little better. I think I just need to lie down and take some painkillers.”

Rhys nodded, and with his free hand, he checked the time on his phone. “Our shift is over soon. I’ll cover for you and finish with those boxes.” He was typing something on his phone one handed. “I’m just texting Derek to come pick you up.”

“Oh, no, he doesn’t need to come. I can walk.”

“You’re in no state to walk,” he argued just as his phone vibrated with a text. “Derek said he’ll be here in fifteen minutes.”

I didn’t bother arguing because Rhys was right. I was in no state to walk. Finally, releasing my hand, he rose and turned to his locker, pulling out a small jar and a packet of pills. “Here, take these,” he said, handing me what looked like two Tylenol, or whatever the Irish equivalent was, before he went to grab me some water. I took the pills then glanced at the jar.

“What’s this?”

“Tiger Balm. It’s soothing for back pain. Do you want to go into the bathroom and put some on? I’ll warn you the smell is strong, but it works. I hurt my neck last summer, and this helped a lot.”

Gingerly, I took the jar, twisting open the cap and taking a sniff. I was assaulted by the scent of menthol and eucalyptus. “Wow, you weren’t kidding about the smell.”

“You can keep that jar. I told Derek to come find you here, so just stay put. I better go get finished with those boxes.”

“Okay,” I said as he moved towards the door. “Rhys?” He turned, glancing back at me, expectant. “Thanks for helping me. I’m sorry you have to do the boxes on your own.”

His eyes softened. “It’s no trouble. Just take it easy. I don’t want the rest of your summer ruined by a back injury.”

He left, and I considered taking his advice and going into the bathroom to put some of the balm on. The problem was, I couldn’t reach the painful area on my own and would need someone to apply it. So, I stayed put and waited for Derek to arrive.

Thirty minutes later, I was back at the house, lying in a flat position on my bed since it was the only way I could get comfortable. I’d tried laying on my stomach, but that just made matters worse. Well, at least the pain wasn’t as agonising as it was earlier. It had subsided a little more, and the painkillers were doing their job. I was still working up the courage to change out of my work clothes and shower when there was a knock on my bedroom door. I thought it might be Aunt Jo or Uncle Padraig coming to check on me, so I called for them to come in, but then Rhys stepped through, looking handsome and tired after his shift.

“Still bad, huh?” he asked, grimacing as he looked me over.

“It’s better than it looks. This is just the most comfortable position for me right now.”

Rhys came in and shut the door, eyes travelling over me. “I clocked out for you at the hotel.”

“Thank you,” I groaned. “You’re the best.”

A beat of silence fell. “Did you try the Tiger Balm yet?”

“No, I can’t reach the spot where it’s sore.”

“I’ll go get Nuala.” He turned to leave.

“She’s not here. She went to her weekly driving lesson. I’m not sure when she’ll be home.”

“Ah, right, well …” Rhys trailed off, scratching awkwardly at the back of his head when I blurted, “Can you do it?”

“Um, you’ll need to take your top off, and I’m not sure if—”

“It’s fine. I have a tank on under this, and you should be able to reach my shoulder without me being completely topless,” I said, trying for a joke while a hint of colour rose in Rhys’ cheeks. He really was too adorable.

“Okay, well, can you sit up?”

He approached the bed, and I whined as I pushed up into a sitting position. Rhys grabbed the jar of Tiger Balm then came to sit next to me on the bed. I began unbuttoning my black shirt, revealing the thin white tank underneath. I’d completely forgotten I’d paired it with a deep purple bra that was outlined like a beacon under the pale material. Obviously, I hadn’t expected anyone to see me like this when I got dressed that morning.

Rhys’ eyes flicked down for a second before he turned his head, respectfully looking away while I removed the shirt. Finally, I turned around.

“Okay, I’m ready. Don’t worry about getting any on my top. I can throw everything in the wash later.”

Facing away from him, I couldn’t see when he turned back to me, but I swore I could feel his eyes on my bared skin. Tingles prickled at my shoulder blades as I awaited his touch. Rhys was silent in a way that made my stomach tighten. I’d pulled out my hair tie when I arrived home, and my dark locks currently rested down the centre of my back.

I inhaled sharply when Rhys slowly gathered my hair in his hands and swept it over my left shoulder. His knuckles, slightly calloused, brushed against my spine, and I swallowed thickly. I hardly felt the pain of my pulled muscle anymore because I was hyperaware of every move he made.

I heard the twist of the jar lid, and then that sharp menthol scent hit my nose before Rhys’ hand returned. His practiced fingers smoothed the balm over my shoulder. A hot, tingling sensation penetrated my skin, but it was surprisingly soothing. The warmth numbed the pain. Rhys’ fingers searched as he murmured, “Tell me where it’s centralised.”

“A little to the right,” I replied, and my voice sounded far too breathy. Rhys’ fingers traced slowly over my skin, and I swore I’d never been so aware of another person’s touch in my life. “There. That’s where it’s worst,” I said, and his fingers paused before gently rubbing more balm into my skin. He shifted his weight on the bed to get a better angle, and I felt my breathing quicken when the fabric of his shirt brushed against my other shoulder.

I remembered the day on the beach when he’d rubbed sunscreen onto my back, but this was far more intense. Perhaps because we were alone in the privacy of my room, or maybe the pain was making my head fuzzy. Without really thinking, I turned my head to look at him, and his eyes met mine. His hand stilled, and time seemed to slow to a snail’s pace.

Our eyes locked, and my throat grew dry. “Rhys,” I whispered, and something flared in his eyes hearing me utter his name. His attention lowered to my mouth, and I thought he might kiss me. I wanted him to kiss me more than anything.

The moment hung between us, but then I saw the very second his hesitation kicked in because his hand left me, and I instantly mourned the loss.

Rhys cleared his throat as he drew away. “That should start to work in a few minutes,” he said then left the room like he couldn’t get out of there fast enough.