"Where's the aircon when you need it?"

I'm lying on my bed, watching the ceiling fan whirl around at full speed. My window was opened, the loud sounds of waves crashing against the shore soothing me.

The crickets were chirping loud tonight. They reminded me of mum. We used to try and catch them, trying to locate where the sound was coming from.

Although we'd never been successful, at least it was another memory of the summer nights I'd been able to spend with her.

"I can't catch them but I can catch you!'

I'd squeal, running as fast as I could towards the water before she'd catch me. But I was never fast enough. My little legs just couldn't be relied on yet.

She'd throw me over her shoulder, spinning around and around until we both collapsed back against the sand.

I smile despite myself. These memories were what helped me get through all this. Not knowing where she was, was easier to deal with when I knew that I could still picture her in my mind.

I'm suddenly brought out of my trance when I hear a car engine rumble outside. It sounded like it was coming from my driveway.

Dad had gone to bed hours ago so I knew it wasn't him. I reach for my phone, but I haven't got any new messages from my friends.

I frown, walking towards the front door. Once I wrench the door open, I peer out into the night.

It isn't fucking difficult to realise what is wrong with the picture I am currently seeing.

Rhys Laderman's car was parked in my driveway, the headlights still on. I hold up a hand to shield my eyes, closing the door behind me.

I fold my arms across my chest, already glaring at his car. I couldn't see him yet, but when I did, my glare would be solely focused on him for ruining my peaceful night.

He winds down the passenger window as I approach him. His nonchalance only angers me more.

"What the fuck?" I screech, leaning through the window.

"Nice to see you too," he grunts.

"Well, it isn't nice to see you!" I snap. "Haven't you gotten the hint by now? You're screwing a lot up for me, you know."

"Oh, I'm sorry," he says, sarcastically, turning to stare at me. "The last thing I would ever want to do is hurt your poor feelings."

"Screw you," I bite back. "You've already caused issues with my friends. I don't want you disrupting anymore of my life."

"Oh," he laughs. "Let me guess. Ryan Taylor doesn't want me helping you, right?"

I don't answer him but Rhys smirks at me, shaking his head. "You're letting your ex-boyfriend control your life now, Cora?'

Living in a small town like New River, everyone survived on gossip. Last year, my breakup with Ryan had been one of the headlines at school. I shouldn't have been surprised that Rhys knew, but a part of me was.

"He's my best friend," I defend. "His opinion matters too. All their opinions matter. And they're right. As much as you did help me, you need to stop coming around here."

"I never thought you'd be the type of person to let other people's opinions control you," he tsks, smirking as he shakes his head.

"You don't know anything about me," I sigh.

"Whatever you say, Cadigan."

"You're annoying, did you know that?"

"I do now," he jokes.

"And who wears hats at night? It isn't like you need the protection from the fucking sun! I don't think I've ever seen you without that baseball cap!"

To be honest, it suited him. But I wasn't about to admit that. One thing I hated was inflating a male's ego further.

To my surprise, Rhys laughs. Like, really laughs. He throws his head back against the headrest, his smooth jawline moving as he grins back at me.

"Seriously, Rhys. What are you doing here? I thought you'd never be back after the other day."

His laughter dies out and he turns serious. "I'm here for phase three."

I roll my eyes. "Seriously? Have you heard nothing that I've—"

"I'm not about to just walk out halfway through something. Even if the girl I'm helping is a piece of work."

"I don't understand you at all. Your excuse about being loyal is getting old. Why are you really here?"

He turns towards his windscreen, jaw tense. "I wanna talk about the next part of the plan."

"No."

"Get in the car."

"No."

"I'm starving. I haven't eaten since breakfast and I'm craving a burger."

"Good for you."

"Cora..." Rhys sighs. "Can you just get in the damn car? It's my shout for the food."

That gets my attention. It was hard to ever turn down free food, especially when he was talking about burgers.

"But it's almost one in the morning!" I scoff. "Who would be open at this hour?"

"Trust me," he grins, "I know a place."

"You've seriously never been here?"

Rhys had driven half an hour out of New River to our neighbouring town. He'd stopped at some burger joint called Clifford's, a place he wouldn't stop praising in the car.

"Nope," I say, staring down at the menu.

"You've been missing out."

"It can't be that good," I disagree. "Otherwise, I'm sure that I would have heard about it before."

"Why? Because you're the centre of the universe and you have to know everything?"

"Fuck off," I scoff. "I don't even know why I agreed to this. I hate you."

"Ouch," he says, placing a hand over his heart. "And here I was, about to drop down on one knee, ready to propose to you."

"Sorry to break it to you, but I would never be your wife."

"And why is that, Cadigan?"

"Because I am perfectly happy with my life and the last thing I'd want was to be a part of one like yours."

"What's so bad about my life, huh? Why do you hate it so much?"

I look up at him, our eyes meeting over the menus. "Because I hold onto the fact that I'm not spoilt or egotistical. I like that I have realistic expectations about life and that I wasn't born into a life of bubble wrap and getting whatever the fuck I want."

"You're right. Mum did say it was more painful when I came out in bubble wrap," he pretends to cringe, an amused expression playing on his face.

"You're so irritating," I clench my teeth together, placing the menu down.

A waitress walks over seconds after, ready to take out order. "I'll have the triple cheeseburger. Hold the pickles and I'll also have the fries with that. Thanks," Rhys grins.

The waitress blushes and I roll my eyes, scoffing. She turns to me, a jealous glint in her eyes. I want to tell her that she could have him for all I cared. Sooner or later she'd realise how annoying he was anyway.

"I'll have the chicken burger with the fries as well. Thanks," I smile at her, handing back the menus.

Once she walks off, I turn back to Rhys, frowning. "What?" he questions, grinning crazily at me.

"It just annoys me that people think you're so great. Because seriously, if I could, I would stay away from you. But unlucky for me, you're like this pesky fly that keeps coming back."

Rhys snort, throwing his head back. I watch his chiselled jaw, my eyes travelling down to his throat. "I'm sorry that I just happen to be likeable."

"Oh god," I groan. "I can't deal with you."

"It's not like you're the easiest person to be around either," he adds.

"That's because we aren't friends. I'm a lot nicer to people I like."

"Oh, that's reassuring," he jokes.

"Can you just get to the point? Why are we here exactly?"

"Phase three," he quips. He leans forward, hands clasped together on the table.

"Spit it out already. I don't have all night."

"Technically, I drove you here. So unless you want to get another lift..."

"Did I mention that I hate you?"

"On several occasions, yes."

"Good to know."

"So, as I was saying, phase three. We've got to look into your mum's bank account further. Did you find anything the other day?"

Apart of me wants to lie to Rhys. Why should he get to know my personal business? Helping me get mum's file was one thing, but knowing anymore? I wasn't so sure I want that.

"You found something, didn't you?" he observes, his eyes flickering across my face.

"Yeah," I breathe. "She was receiving $700 payments every month. And they started seventeen years ago."

Rhys frowns, placing his hands behind his head as he leans back in his chair. I watch as his muscles stretch under the long sleeve tee he was wearing.

"You think it might be something?"

"Possibly," I shrug. "It's definitely weird."

"Do you know why they started seventeen years ago? Like, why then specifically?"

I'd been thinking about that. The only possible explanation was that it had something to do with me.

"Well, they started the same year I was born, so..."

"But why would that matter? Why would someone just start paying your mum because you were born?"

I still hadn't told Rhys that it turns out my dad isn't even my fucking father. I didn't know if I wanted to either.

"There's something you're not telling me, isn't there?"

Before I can answer, the waitress brings over our orders. Rhys thanks her and I watch as she slides a napkin from her apron pocket onto the table.

When she leaves, I glance at it. "For christ's sake," I roll my eyes. "Are you really that desirable?"

She had written her freaking phone number on a napkin for Rhys. For all she knew, I was his girlfriend and she was hitting him up in front of me.

"I don't know. You tell me," he smirks, folding the napkin and putting it in his jean pocket.

"You're too annoying to be anything else," I say, picking up a chip.

Rhys takes a massive bite of his burger, chewing it slowly before he begins to speak again. "Don't think I've just suddenly forgotten what I said," he raises his eyebrow. "I know you aren't telling me something."

"And what if I am? It isn't like I owe you any type of explanation."

"True," he shrugs. "But I think you're going to like what I have to say."

"What?"

"See, that isn't how it works," he shakes his head. "Either you tell me what you're not saying or I won't tell you how to go about phase three."

"Are you— did you just blackmail me? Again? This is starting to feel like deja vu."

"Maybe I did," he says, nonchalantly. "So what?"

"So what? You— actually, forget it. I just want to enjoy this food."

He rolls his eyes, shaking his head. "You're only enjoying the food because it's free."

"Why would you say that? Because you think I'm poor and just take handouts from anyone?"

"That isn't—"

"Joking," I grin. "God, the look on your face!"

He frowns. "That wasn't funny. I thought you were going to start another fucking argument like the one the other day."

"I can't be angry right now. Not when I'm devouring the best burger ever."

"Told you," he smirks. "I knew I was right."

"Don't let it go to your head."

"Too late. Now, stop avoiding the question."

"Rhys..."

"Cora..."

"It's none of your business," I involuntarily snap, harshly biting into a fry.

"What if it helps? What if telling me helps you find your mum?"

"It won't!" I whisper-shout, wishing I could speak louder without drawing attention to myself.

"You don't know that for sure."

"Rhys, I don't want to talk about this again. Alright?"

"Cora—"

"Why do you always call me Cora, anyway? Hardly anyone calls me that," I frown.

"Um, because it's your name?"

I sigh, shaking my head. "I'm being serious. Everyone usually calls me CeCe."

"I've always believed that nicknames should only be used when you're close to someone."

"So what's your nickname then?"

"Don't have one," he shrugs. "You can't really shorten Rhys. It's already only four letters."

"You could be ReeRee or Ree," I snort.

"So, what? You'd be CeCe and I could be ReeRee?" he laughs.

I can't help but grin, laughing with him. "Shut up, jerk. It just doesn't make sense that you don't have a nickname."

"Well, I guess my sister used to call me Rhysie. But, other than that, people just call me Rhys."

The smile slowly drops from his face at the mention of his sister. I'd never heard him talk about her.

"I'm, uh...sorry. About Libby," I say, feeling uncomfortable.

I'd never been the best at consoling people. I'd never been overly emotional either, so it was hard to try and empathise.

But this, this I understood.

As much as I didn't get along with the guy, I knew how hard it could be to suddenly lose a family member. That's what it felt like when mum suddenly went missing.

"Thanks," he says, staring at his food. I notice the way his jaw clenches and unclenches.

I watch him carefully, wondering if there was any way I could trust him. In a way, he had proven to me that he was helpful. And despite everything, I did feel slightly bad for the guy.

Even though I was very apprehensive about letting Rhys into my life, the words begin to form on my tongue before I can second guess myself.

"I guess if you must know," I whisper, staring at my burger, "I found out that my dad isn't my biological father. That's what I didn't want to tell you."

Rhys is silent for a moment but he suddenly looks up, watching me. "Shit, Cora. I'm sorry. That must've been awful."

"Yeah," I huff. "It was definitely...unexpected."

"Is that why you think someone was paying your mother? Paying her off to keep her quiet maybe?"

"Possibly," I nod. "It's definitely a good theory."

"So it would have to be someone rich then or at least someone who could afford to give away that type of money every month," Rhys thinks aloud.

"I guess so," I agree. I hadn't even thought about that possibility.

"And likely to be someone from New River," he adds as an afterthought.

Shit. I hadn't thought of that either. What if my biological father stilled lived in town? What if I knew of him?

A chill runs through me, thinking of the possibility of walking past the man who could be related to me without even knowing it.

"We should talk to the local bank," Rhys nods.

"Why?"

"It's possible they could help us," he shrugs. "I don't know, it's worth a try. Maybe show them the statements, ask them if they can tell us if the account number who sent the payments is from New River."

"I don't think they can give information out like that—"

"It's worth a try, though. Right?"

I couldn't understand Rhys Laderman. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't understand his motives. He said that it was loyalty but it must have been more than that. There had to be something else that made him want to help.

"Rhys, why are you so adamant about this?"

"I told you, once I start something, I gotta—"

"Is that really all?" I question.

He watches me for a moment, seemingly wondering if should say something else. "I told you," he repeats.

I shake my head. "You're one to preach the idea of telling the truth. Are you seriously going to lie to me right now?"

"Cora—"

"Who's the hypocrite now?" I snap.

He watches me for a moment before suddenly standing up. He throws down a handful of bills, walking towards the exit.

I'd clearly hit a nerve. But it wasn't fair. How could he sit here telling me that I had to tell him the truth when he was keeping things from me?

I walk out the door, folding my hands against my chest to fight the cool summer breeze.

He's sitting in Rovey, the engine already started. When I hop in, he peels out of the parking lot, accelerating down the road.

We sit in silence, the radio playing quietly in the background.

"If you don't want to tell me, fine. But don't tell me that I have to be honest when you aren't."

"There are some things that you just won't understand, Cora. We're still practically strangers. And we probably will never be more than that."

"God, you're an asshole," I mutter.

"I think you need to extend your vocabulary, because it doesn't consist of too many words, Cadigan."

"You know what I think? I think you need to get your priorities straight. Practical strangers don't randomly turn up at other practical strangers houses at one in the god damn morning pleading with them to come to some fucking diner!"

"You're the one who got in the car!"

"Because you fucking asked me to! What is wrong with you?"

"So what are you saying? You want to be friends now? Is that it?"

"No, Rhys. People like us, you and me, we could never be friends. You know why."

"Actually, I don't, Cora. So enlighten me, sweetheart."

"Don't be condescending! And don't pretend that you don't hate people like me just because we were born into two different parts of New River."

"Why is it always about what we were born into with you?" he slams his hands against the steering wheel, glancing at me for a second.

"Because, Rhys, that is all that matters in this fucking world! People who have more money have more chances to be something. Whereas people who don't, well, they either end up dead or end up working as a fucking waitress for the rest of their lives."

"But what has that got to do with who you associate with?"

"Once you cross over, once you start blurring the lines between those two worlds, things get messy. People get hurt," I admit.

"So you're worried about getting hurt, is that it?"

"No, I'm worried about your intentions. About why you're helping me at all. You don't owe me anything. And I sure as hell don't owe you anything."

"I've already told you."

"And I don't believe you."

"Well, I guess that's the end of the conversation then."

"Fine," I snap.

"Fine."

We sit in silence for the rest of the