Chapter 17 #2
I grabbed the table lamp and hurled it at the mirror. Glass exploded.
I tore the room apart. I flipped the mattress. I punched the wall until my knuckles bled through the stitches.
I was the monster. I was the fool.
She was gone. She was in Ohio. She had been gone for three months.
And I was here, in a luxury hotel, rich and famous and utterly, completely unworthy of the air she breathed.
I collapsed onto the floor amidst the wreckage of the room.
I had to find her.
I didn't care about the contract. I didn't care about the game tomorrow. I didn't care about the NHL.
I scrambled for the hotel phone. My hands were shaking so bad I could barely dial.
"Front desk," a cheerful voice answered.
"I need a car," I rasped. "Now. To the airport."
"Mr. Thorne? But the team bus leaves at—"
"I don't care about the bus! Get me a car!"
I slammed the phone down.
I grabbed my bag. I didn't pack. I just threw my wallet and my passport into it.
I opened the drawer and grabbed the flashcard.
I ran.
The flight to Ohio was a blur of connections and delays. I flew commercial. First class, but still. It was slow. Too slow.
I landed in Columbus at 2 AM. I rented a car. A shitty sedan that smelled like stale smoke.
I drove.
I drove through the night, through the cornfields, through the small towns that looked like they were sleeping under a blanket of dust.
I knew her address. I had memorized it from her student file when we were "studying" in the library. I had never thought I'd use it.
I pulled up to the house as the sun was rising.
It was a small, white house with a porch swing. There was a garden in the front, overgrown with weeds.
I sat in the car, staring at it.
Panic set in.
What if she wasn't here? What if she hated me? What if she had moved on?
Three months was a long time.
And what would I say? "Sorry I believed you were a villain? Sorry I got rich while you got expelled?"
I looked at my reflection in the rearview mirror. I looked like hell. My eyes were bloodshot. My hand was bandaged and bloody. I hadn't shaved in two days.
I looked like my father.
"No," I whispered. "Not him. Just Spike."
I got out of the car.
I walked up the driveway.
I didn't knock. I sat on the porch swing.
I waited.
I waited for an hour. The sun climbed higher. Birds started singing.
At 7:00 AM, the front door opened.
An older woman stepped out. Riley's mother. She looked like Riley—same eyes, same curly hair, but gray.
She saw me. She dropped her watering can.
"You," she whispered.
She didn't look happy. She looked terrified.
"Mrs. Bennett," I said, standing up. "I'm looking for Riley."
"She's not here," she said quickly. Too quickly. She moved to block the door. "Go away. You've done enough damage."
"I know," I said. "I know everything. I know she lied to save me. I came to fix it."
"Fix it?" Mrs. Bennett laughed bitterly. "You can't fix this. You're too late."
"Please," I begged. "Just tell me where she is. Is she inside?"
"No. She's working. At the diner on Main Street. Patsy's."
She looked at me with a mixture of anger and pity.
"If you hurt her again," she said, her voice shaking, "I don't care who you are. I will call the police."
"I won't hurt her," I promised. "I'm here to beg."
I turned and ran back to the car.
Patsy's Diner was a chrome-and-neon throwback from the fifties.
I parked the car. I took a deep breath.
I walked in.
The bell on the door jingled.
The diner was busy. The smell of bacon and coffee hit me.
I scanned the room.
And there she was.
She was behind the counter, wearing a pink uniform that was too big for her. Her hair was tied back in a messy bun. She looked tired. Pale. There were dark circles under her eyes.
She was pouring coffee for a trucker.
She didn't see me.
I walked toward the counter. My boots were heavy on the linoleum.
"Riley," I said.
She froze. The coffee pot hovered in mid-air.
Slowly, she turned around.
When she saw me, the color drained from her face completely. She dropped the pot.
It shattered on the floor. Hot coffee splashed everywhere. Glass flew.
The diner went silent.
"Spike," she whispered.
She looked at me like I was a ghost. Or a monster.
I walked around the counter, ignoring the glass crunching under my boots. I ignored the manager shouting.
I stopped in front of her.
"I know," I said. "Vera told me. I know you took the fall."
Riley flinched. She stepped back, hitting the back counter.
"Go away," she whispered. "Please. Just go away."
"No. Never again."
I reached for her.
She put her hands up to stop me.
"Don't touch me," she said, her voice rising in panic. "Spike, you can't be here."
"Why? Because I'm dangerous? Because I'm broken?"
"No!" She looked around frantically at the staring customers. "Because..."
She took a deep breath. She looked down at her stomach.
The uniform was loose. But looking closer... I saw it.
A small, distinct bump.
My world stopped. The noise of the diner faded to a hum.
I looked at her face. Then back at her stomach.
"Riley," I whispered, my voice trembling. "Is that...?"
She closed her eyes. Tears leaked out.
"Yes," she choked out.
"Mine?"
She nodded.
I fell to my knees. Right there in the coffee and the glass.
I was going to be a father.
Me. The ticking time bomb. The son of a murderer.
And she hadn't told me. She had faced this alone. Expelled. Pregnant. exiled.
"Oh god," I sobbed, burying my face in her apron. "Oh god, Riley. What have we done?"
She didn't push me away. Her hand came down, hesitant at first, then firm, resting on my head.
"We made a mess," she whispered, her fingers tangling in my hair. "A big, beautiful, terrible mess."
I looked up at her.
"Marry me," I said.
The diner gasped.
Riley stared at me, her mouth falling open.
"What?"
"Marry me. Come to Seattle. Let me take care of you. Let me take care of... of the pup."
"Spike, get up," she hissed, trying to pull me up. "You're making a scene."
"I don't care! Let them look!" I shouted. I stood up and grabbed her face. "I love you. I loved you when you were my tutor. I loved you when I thought you betrayed me. And I love you now, carrying my child in a diner in Ohio."
"You're crazy," she cried, laughing through her tears.
"I know. But I'm yours."
I kissed her.
It tasted like coffee and tears and redemption.
The diner erupted in applause. The trucker clapped. The manager sighed and started sweeping up the glass.
Riley pulled back, breathless.
"You have to pay for the coffee pot," she said.
"I'll buy the whole diner," I promised. "I'll buy the whole town."
She smiled. It was the first real smile I had seen in three months.
"Just take me home, Spike," she said.
"Which home?"
"Wherever you are," she said. "That's home."
I picked her up, carrying her out of the diner, leaving the mess and the pain behind us.
We had a long road ahead. We had a baby coming. We had the madness to fight.
But as I walked out into the sunlight, holding my world in my arms, I knew one thing for sure.
We weren't going to fight it alone.
And that made all the difference.