Page 86 of My Grape Crush
“Dani,” she drifts back into her authoritative voice, “when you get married, you’ll understand you pick your battles. Nothing happened in the end, so why open that can of worms?”
Holy shit. After living in Amelia's shadow for years, always the screw-up compared to her flawless life, will I ever see her the same way now that the illusion has shattered?
“What did Rhys say?” Amelia asks, a sliver of uncertainty embedded in the question, like maybe there’s more to the story she never shared.
“Same,” I lie.
“How did this topic even come up?” she asks, her tone more fraught. “You promised me you wouldn’t say anything.”
Before I remind her that this is her cross-examination and not mine, I hear a lighttapagainst the window followed by an urgent whisper. “Dani? Are you awake?”
I jolt upright, breathing in sharply, practically a gasp. Rhys. I yank the top sheet around me, my heart pounding as I slide off the bed. I creep to the window, open the blinds, and peer outside. Right away, I know it's not good. The moonlight washes over Rhys, turning him a Sawyer-like ghostly pale. He hums with dark energy, an unnatural presence that sends a shiver down my spine.
“I have to go,” I tell Amelia, abruptly ending the call. Tossing the phone onto the bed, I slide the window open and face Rhys, standing as still as a statue.
“What’s going on? Are you okay?”
His face is a storm of emotion, and he swallows in a broken, defeated way. “My dad had another stroke,” he says. “I need to get to Vancouver tonight. Can I borrow your truck?”
It feels like the world tilts beneath me. I want to rage at Amelia for lying, for stalking Rhys, and for adding herself to his Crazy list. Because of her, I had the shittiest weekend, unsure if Rhys would even hear me out if I tried to convince him again that I knew nothing. But when all is said and done, I know my feelings will level out. I will love my sister for the mess she is.
I will love and forgive her as I should because, in the end, family is everything.
And that’s why my response to Rhys comes without a second thought.
“Give me fifteen minutes. I’m coming with you.”
“You don’t have to do this,” Rhys says a somewhat pointless fourth time as I roar up the highway heading west. “And I can drive.”
We crest the hill, the shimmering lights of Osoyoos disappear, and absolute darkness engulfs us. There are no streetlights on this remote section of road.
“It’s not safe at this time of night,” I tell him. “You have too much on your mind to navigate all the winding passes.”
The prognosis for his father remains shaky. Sawyer's most recent text said he might not walk again. If my heart feels like it’s gone through the wringer, Rhys’s must be near the point of collapse.On cue, he jams both hands into the kangaroo pocket of his hoodie and blows out a sigh that sounds raw and jagged at the edges.
I get it. I was stressed to the max all weekend. Thankfully, Amelia killed my greatest fear and the panicky ache eating me alive has subsided. But I’m dying to hear his version of the event.
I approach it in a roundabout way.
“I spoke to my sister tonight.”
After a charged silence, he asks, “How did that go?”
I replay the conversation, leaving out the bit about Amelia and Dean already married to spare her some dignity.
“I swear on a stack of Bibles she never told me,” I finish, hating the wobble in my voice. “There was no plan for her to come up and have us ambush you.”
Rhys nods, but not the way you nod where you’re agreeing with someone. His silence stings. The refusal to comfort me with a morsel of confirmation or denial.
“And I’m sorry I lied about knowing you,” I blabber on. “But…” I exhale slowly, my voice barely rising over the low hum of the engine. “I’m not sorry about the other night. Not in the slightest.”
Rhys looks over. Dark eyes, his pupils dilated, black smothering brown. Does he want to hear all this right now? Likely not. But this feels like a game-changer night. One that requires brutal honesty.
“I’m not sorry either,” he says. “And I should have believed you. Forgive me for storming out the way I did. Bad form.”
A funny feeling takes over in the blanket of silence. This weird sense of déjà vu. Hurtling on the dark highway to the unknown waiting for us in Vancouver reminds me of the drive up in the dead of night two months ago. Nursing a broken heart but full of hope. If I had known then that Rhys was part of the equation—rather than Evelyn offhandedly informing me the day after I arrived that my internet crush was my five-week summer project—would I have jumped so high at the opportunity?
Yes.
