Chapter 53
Chapter Fifty-Three
NATHAN
The over-the-counter pain pills are helping for now, but the effect wears off fast. I had to take another pill before we left the conference hall.
Riley’s in the passenger seat, arms folded over her chest and brown eyes locked on the passing scenery. This pickup is pretty spacious—I intentionally bought a truck that could carry all my hockey gear—but it feels like we’re sitting miles apart.
I shift in my seat and call her name tentatively. “Riles?”
“What?” The stern, teacher-voice is back.
I shake my head. “Nothing.”
Riley rubs her bottom lip and I notice that her lips are a little swollen.
“Riles,” I say, taking my eyes off the road to stare at her. “Are you okay? Are your lips sore?”
“I’m fine.”
I reach for her hand and then think better of it. “I’m sorry. In the hallway, I didn’t mean to be rough—”
“Why were you in the hallway in the first place, Nat?”
I want to say something that’ll make her smile, that’ll melt that frigid tone, that’ll get us back to playful banter. But Riley’s eyes are intense and searching mine for any cracks in the facade.
The truth is, she caught me right after I took another dosage. Again, I defaulted to kissing her as a deflection.
But I overdid it. It seems like Riley’s onto me.
I grip the steering wheel tighter and waver on how I should respond.
I could lie, but I feel like that would put me in more hot water and I also don’t want to start a habit of being dishonest with her.
Or I can give her the whole truth and turn our relationship into a cycle of Riley pressuring me to go to the doctor, me resisting her and this stupid leg ruining a great thing.
I choose an in-between.
“I’ve been overdoing it with training lately. But it’s nothing to worry about. A few pain pills and some relief patches will fix it right up.”
“Is it your leg?” She sits straight up, her body straining against the seatbelt.
“Yeah, but I’m managing.”
“How bad is the pain from a scale of one to ten?” Riley asks, staring me down as if she’s a human lie detector.
“It’s like a three.”
Which is true.
The pill I took before we started driving helped to bring things down.
Riley scrutinizes my face and I allow her to do so without comment. She must believe me because she lets out a sigh and touches my arm.
“I was so worried about you, Nat. If the pain gets worse, you have to tell me, okay?”
My response is to smile tightly.
“Thank you for telling me the truth.”
My insides twist with guilt.
“I knew something was wrong the night of our airport date, but I didn’t know how to bring it up.” She groans. “Why are honest conversations so hard to have?”
“Being honest is difficult sometimes,” I say, thinking of my omissions.
Riley chews on her bottom lip. “On that note, there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you. It’s silly, really. You’re going to laugh about it… I think.”
Intrigued, I take my attention off the road when, suddenly, a man streaks in front of me.
I slam on the brakes.
Riley flops forward violently and I shoot an arm out to keep her from snapping her forehead against the dashboard.
“What was that?” Riles screeches.
“There was a man! Look!” I point at the windshield.
A naked, old man is sprinting through the gates of the Happy Go Lucky Nursing Home. Two male nurses and one female nurse chase behind him. They wrestle the old man into a coat and escort him back inside.
I let out a stunned breath.
“That’s intense,” Riley muses.
Letting the car roll forward again, I ask, “Is your mentor’s state that, um,” I search for a polite phrase, “far gone?”
“No, not to that extent. Sometimes, it’s hard to tell that she’s sick. She can recall in startling detail how to re-wire an engine, but she won’t remember what she had for breakfast yesterday or what she did last week.”
I nod, taking in that information.
Riley pushes her hair out of her face.
“So,” I clear my throat, “what did you want to tell me?”
“Later,” she says. “It’s not that important.”
I accept her words and find a parking spot.
When we walk inside the lobby, I’m surprised by how luxurious and modern the nursing home is.
“Betty took me with her to different assisted living facilities,” Riley explains as we walk down a tiled hallway. Her steps are sure and propel her forward in commanding strides. “This one had the best reviews, the best service, and the best living quarters.”
“And the best price?”
“Best is relative, but Betty was able to stretch her savings to cover it.”
I arch a brow, sensing that she’s holding back. “Is Betty the only one contributing to the bill?”
Riley’s eyes dart away from me.
In that moment, I unearth another layer of her selflessness.
Overcome with pride, I slide an arm around Riley’s shoulders. “I’m honored to know you, Riley Carter. You’re one-of-a-kind.”
She smiles—her first, real smile since I grabbed her in the hallway.
I wipe my thumb gently below her mouth. “And I’m sorry again. For over-doing it earlier—”
“Don’t apologize.” Riley stops in front of a door and winks at me. “I liked it. A lot.”
My pulse gallops.
I can’t tear my eyes off her.
Does she know the vise grip she has on my heart?
Does she know how absolutely perfect she is for me?
The room door opens, and I force my gaze away from Riley to an older woman with deep wrinkles around her eyes, frizzy grey hair and bright pink lips. She’s wearing a black T-shirt and leggings.
At first, the woman tilts her head as if she doesn’t recognize Riley. But then she smiles. “Oh, Riley! You’re back!”
“Hi, Betty. I—oof.” Riley’s greeting is smothered in Betty’s shoulder as the woman pulls her in for a hug.
“I was just thinking that I haven’t shown you the music video for Neon Veil’s new song. It’s called ‘Echoes of AfterImage’ and it is just divine.”
“Actually, you have shown me the music video, Betty,” Riley says in a gentle voice. This tone is the opposite of her strict teacher voice, but I find it just as compelling.
Betty’s mouth twitches and her eyes fill with momentary panic. But she brushes it away with a tight laugh. “Oh, right. Right. Yes, I remember that now. Did I give you the Neon Veil sweatshirt as well? It’s original merch. I didn’t buy it from a re-seller.”
“Yes, you did give me the sweatshirt. I love it and use it often.”
“Wonderful.” Betty glances at the doorway where I’m still standing. I figured it was best to let the ladies have their moment rather than barge in.
“And who is this handsome gentleman?”
Riley wraps her fingers around my bicep and tugs me inside. “This is my boyfriend, Nathan Campbell. I spoke so highly of you that he wanted to meet you himself.”
Betty fluffs her hair and blinks rapidly. “Well, if I knew you were bringing company, Riley, I would have dressed a little nicer.”
“No need. You look beautiful, Ms. Betty.”
“Oh, just call me Betty, you sweet-talker. Riley,” Betty whirls around, “does your boyfriend have an uncle or perhaps a grandfather who might be single?”
“I’m not sure.” Riley throws me a helpless look.
“You don’t need to look far, Betty. A beauty like you should have all the men out there lining up.”
“That’s not the case. I assure you.”
“What’s wrong with them? Are they blind? You’re stunning.”
Betty throws her head back and laughs. “Oh, I like you. What was your name again?”
“Nathan, ma’am.”
“Nathan, do you like K-pop?”
“I have no idea what that is.”
“Perfect! Fresh blood. Sit there and let me show you the best thing that’s ever happened to entertainment.”
Riley cuts her hand over her neck in an ‘abort mission’ gesture, but I eagerly follow her mentor to the couch and take a seat.
For the next hour, Betty introduces me to the world of Korean pop music and while I don’t appreciate the dancing or the ‘visuals’—as she calls the band members—as much as she does, I find the music appealing.
When it’s time to leave, I give Betty a hug and tell her genuinely, “Remember to send me those song links. I like the slower, R&B songs.”
“I’ve got you, sweetheart. Your ears will be blessed.”
I chuckle and pull away from Betty.
Riley hugs Betty next.
The way that Betty holds Riley a tad longer reveals just how much she appreciates these visits.
“You’ll see me again soon, won’t you?” Betty asks. She’s smiling, but there’s a tremble beneath her words.
“I will,” Riley promises.
Betty grins, relieved, and waves as we leave her unit and close the door behind us.
“Betty likes you a lot,” Riley comments as we take our time moving down the hallway.
“I can’t imagine that adorable old lady being tough on anyone.”
“Oh, she’s changed. She’s practically unrecognizable. Especially now that she’s found this K-pop obsession.” Riley bumps me with her shoulder. “It was really nice of you to act interested by the way.”
“It wasn’t an act. I want to add some of those songs to my Riley playlist.”
“Riley playlist?”
“That playlist you made before I left for college,” I explain. “I listen to it at practice and before games.”
Riley swallows hard.
“By the way, how did you choose those songs? I always thought some of the hip-hop tracks were a little too mature for you.”
“Well, I…” Riley’s eyes dart from side to side.
“Oh my gosh. It’s them,” someone whispers.
I look away from Riley. As usual, when I’m beside her, no one else exists. So I’m surprised to discover that we’re the center of attention.
Riley notices too because she grabs my bicep. “Is it just me or are people staring?”
“Maybe they’re like me and can’t take their eyes off you,” I whisper.
Her eyes glitter at me and her smile is so pleased that I want to say something else to make her grin like that.
“Isn’t she the one…”
“So it’s true? They’re actually together now?”
The whispers get worse when we enter the lobby. Several of the nurses are looking at their phones and then at us.
It doesn’t bother me. I’ve been in the headlines several times now—first with my rise to the league then with my accident.
People are curious creatures and tend to fixate on people, bands or celebrities for a million reasons.
I can’t please the masses, so I decided early on to live my life by my own terms.
“This is so weird,” Riley says, ducking her head and shuffling as fast as she can out of the nursing home.
I open the car door for her. “They probably saw the news about my deal with the Lucky Strikers.”
“I don’t think that’s it. No one was smiling. They were all… judgey.” Riley swings her legs into the truck. “I’ll google your name just in case.”
I stretch my arm over the car door and smirk down at her. “That rolled off the tongue. How often have you googled my name, Riles?”
I expect a sharp comeback, an insistence that she would never do such a thing.
Instead, Riley’s face turns shockingly white.
My good mood evaporates.
I straighten instantly. “What is it?”
Riley looks up slowly, “Layla called us out in her podcast.”