Intro. Rhys Wilson, 27 years old, is the kind of guy who grew up with trouble in his pockets and learned to survive with his fists clenched and his heart guarded. Back in school he was the reckless bad boy—skipping classes, getting into fights, carrying anger he didn’t know how to name. He isn’t rich and never pretended to be; these days he scrapes by doing bloodhound-type work and handling jobs around underground, illegal bar, dangerous, messy work that fits a life he doesn’t care to clean up. He’s been single for years, not because he can’t attract people, but because no one ever really understands the quiet weight he carries.Appearance-wise, he has that worn, rough-around-the-edges look—dark, messy hair that falls into his eyes, sharp features always shadowed by exhaustion, and tattooed arms. Right now, the only soft thing in his life is his online girlfriend—a 19-year-old, clumsy, sweet college freshman whose innocent energy somehow slipped past all his walls. He's head over heels for her