Rhys-age 16
"I want to take you to dinner. Tonight. At Rocko's Diner. The one down the street?"
Holy shit, I'm sweating balls. My hands wring nervously in front of me as I look anywhere but Maeve.
"You want to take me to dinner? But we always go to dinner together." She points out.
I fucking blush. "Ahh, well, I wanted to take you out. Like an a...date."
Her eyes blow up, her mouth forming an O. She blinks at me like she can't believe what's coming out of my mouth before she snaps it shut, nodding her head slowly.
"You're so cute, Rhys. I love you so much for it."
"Is that a yes?"
She grins and my breath leaves my lungs.
"Of fucking course. You think I'd let you take out some other girl? Hell no. You're stuck with me forever, Beckett."
And I can't wait for when we finally get that forever we always talk about.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Rhys - present
"Did he seriously bail on us so he wouldn't have to pay the check?" Mike scoffs, bringing his phone to his ear before tapping the speaker.
"You've reached Cam. I'm currently sucking Mikes dick or trying to get into Noah's pants so I'll come to the phone when I can."
I burst out laughing at hearing Cam's lovely voice.
Mike gapes at his phone as we stand outside a bar and grill, waiting for our Uber to come rescue us.
Cam was our ride before he bailed on us, presumabley so he didnt have to pay.
Smart 'lil fucker.
"Is that seriously his voicemail?" Mike asks, amusment all over his face.
I shrug because what else is there to do?
"Sounds like something Cam would do. I'm kinda offended he doesn't want to suck my dick, though."
Mike pouts sarcastically at me, his eyes eyebrows drooping. "Aww, is someone jealous? Don't worry, he gives terrible head."
I sputter. "What?"
He better be fucking joking.
Mike glances across the street at some commotion, shielding his eyes from the sun as he takes a long glance, puzzled.
He squints before his eyes completely widen with shock. "Isn't that Maeve's car?"
I follow his eyes to the Toyota that sits planted outside of Fosters Diner, burgundy paint chipped away all along the bumper, the windsheild cracked and splintered.
Holy fucking shit.
That's Maeve's diner.
She's told me just bit and pieces about the diner she owns and manages, never wanting to be pushed on the subject, so I left it.
But holy shit.
It has a contempory feel to it, blue and white painting the outside, Fosters Diner displayed in big sloppy letters right above the entrance, like a certain six year old wrote those letters himself and Maeve had them blown up.
From across the street, I can see people hurrying up the steps like they can't wait to get inside and people leaving with happy and content smiles on their faces, a few rubbing their bursting stomachs.
Maeve created this herself. She's creating a new life for Liam and herself, not letting her childhood stop her from doing amazing things.
I just wish I had been here to see the start of it all.
My bubble of pride is burst moments later when the commotion we heard earlier turns into full on screeching and shouting.
"You fucking bitch!"
"I will stab out your fucking eyes if you come any closer!"
My blood runs cold at the familar voice screaming, her shouts echoing from an alley from down the street. My feet move on their own.
I run as fast as my shaky legs will carry me, not caring as I jump in front of cars, the blasts of their horns not meaning anything to me as I stumble past pedestrians, nearly slamming into a lamp post.
"Mike! Call 911!" I shout, not wanting him to get hurt knowing Maeve's dad probaly has a weapon. I know he's heard me when his feet stop pounding behind me.
When I turn the corner into the dark alley beside Maeve's diner, my heart weighs thousands of pounds in my chest, beating so hard I'm surprised it hasn't lept out.
Maeve stands tall and proud, her back to me as she wields a pocket knife securely in her right fist. Liam stands behind her, Maeve's left arm and leg shielding him. His sobs and whimpers are the only sound echoing off the walls.
Her dad is only a silhoutte hiding in the dark, standing maybe fifteen feet away from Maeve and Liam.
And he himself is pointing his own knife at his children.
Sick fucker.
"Walk away, old man. Before your shrivelled dick ends up down your throat."
That's my girl.
His eyes narrow, flaring with anger. He stumbles forward like he has two left feet, catching himself on the green dumpster. He's drunk as fuck, his eyes droopy and feet heavy.
"Come on, Sarah. Let's go home to that little whore." He slurs, lifting the arm that wields the knife lazily in the air.
Maeve doesn't flinch when he calls her Sarah. Or how he refers to her as a whore.
She just smiles. A nasty, cruel smile to match her fathers words.
"You're the one who raised that whore, dad. Should've punched some more sense into her." Maeve tells him, laughing like her father threatening her with a knife is the least of her concerns.
His face morphs into absoulte rage before he narrows his eyes past her shoulder and right onto me.
His eyes widen with recognition before he keels over, laughing. "You brought the fuck boy? Guess you didn't have good enough pussy to keep him interested."
Maeve snorts. Snorts. "I have a golden pussy, thank you very much. His dick was just too small to land it."
Her dad laughs harder at that, throwing his head back so hard he stumbles and lands on his ass. I take the oppurntiy to slip myself in front of Maeve, grabbing her wrist and squeezing.
"Rhys. Get the fuck out of here." She sneers in my ear, sending shivers right through me.
"Not without you, Maeve. Remember? I told you I'm not leaving you again. And I meant it."
That silences her. Her lips part in shock, eyes flooding with so many emotions. I can't pick my favourtite.
She leans forward to say something , eyes locked on her dad who still lays unmoving on the ground, opening her mouth to say something before she's interrupted by the sound of sirens.
"What the..." She steps out of my hold and I immediately miss the feel of her safe in my arms.
Two police offers amble through the alley, grabbing Maeve's father and hoisting him up so he stands on wobbly knees, vomit trailing down his front. They kick him forward, loading him into the back of the police car and everything after that becomes a blur.
They take our statements, asking Maeve so many questions I eventually tell them enough.
And by the way she breathes out a sigh, I can tell she's thankful as she hoists a wailing Liam into her arms, rocking back and fourth like she did at her apartment a few weeks back.
She strokes his back, not once breaking under all this pressure. "I'm right here, Liam. You'll be okay. Shh, cry it out. It's okay to cry."
Liam's cries eventually die out, turning into soft snores as we walk to Maeve's car after the police tell us were okay to leave and they'll call us with more information.
Mike's been here the whole time, giving his own statement to the police, comforting Liam when Maeve was giving her own.
"Thank you." I tell him as he starts to leave Maeve's Toyota, glancing back with a rare smile instead of a cocky grin.
"Anytime."
Maeve doesn't say a word on the drive to her apartment, just blanky stares out of her window, never once letting her hold on Liam loosen, who's dozing off in his car seat.
I hall Liam into my arms, who just buries his face into my neck in reply, grabbing the hair on my neck loosely, like his sister used to do when I would carry her.
"Maeve? We're home." I tell her softly, bending down as best as I can without dropping Liam.
Her eyes are dead when they meet mine, the emotion that was swirling in them earlier gone. She stares, tilting her head before it drops back.
She reaches for my hand, squeezing it lazily. There's a moment when were both silent, just simply staring at each other. Me, with concern. Her, like I'm not there.
She sucks in a small breath, her chest rising heavily before it crashes. Her fingers trace my jaw, her eyebrows scrunched together in pain.
Tears suddenly fill her eyes, a few coasting down her cheek. I wipe them with my thumb.
"Nova? What's wrong baby?"
She drops her head to my other shoulder, sobs shaking her body, her fingers digging into my back. She cries for what feels like an enternity. And I don't know how to help.
"What's wrong? Please baby." I beg, my own throat thick with emotion.
And when her eyes finally meet mine? When they drag up my throat and lock onto mine, looking lifeless and hollow? And when she whispers six words that leave me gasping for breath like I'm drowning?
"My home left me years ago."
I feel like I'm drowning all over again.