Chapter 12 Riley
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Riley
I had been running on emotions all week.
Every time I turned around, Caelan was there. I wasn’t stupid. I knew the odds of running into the same person this many times were astronomically low. He was engineering these encounters, stalking me, if you wanted to be dramatic about it.
I should find it creepy…. But I found it devastatingly attractive.
The man was unfairly hot. Every time I saw him, my brain short-circuited a little more.
The way he smiled when he spotted me, like I’d just made his entire day by existing.
The way his eyes lit up, gray going warm, crinkling at the corners.
The way his shirts clung to his shoulders and his jeans hugged his. ..
I needed to stop thinking about this.
It was Friday morning, and I was looking forward to brunch with the girls.
A chance to vent about my confusing feelings, get some perspective, maybe drink enough mimosas to forget the way Caelan’s hands felt on my back at the lake.
The way they’d felt on my waist that morning in bed and how he’d looked at me when I pressed my leg against his very obvious hard cock.
How the heat had rushed to my core and how I’d had to squeeze my thighs together to get the slightest friction because I couldn’t just keep rubbing myself on him. ..
Stop. Thinking. About. This.
My phone buzzed. Yes. The group chat.
Margo: Bad news. A surprise client just walked in, some idiot wants to sue his neighbor over a fence. I’m going to be stuck here all day.
Sloane: Ugh. I’m out too. Something I ate is staging a revolution in my stomach. Full-scale mutiny. Pls send thoughts and prayers.
Riley: Seriously? Both of you?
Jade: Um.
Riley: Jade?
Jade: So.
Sloane: Say that again?
Jade: Thessa may have... kidnapped me?
Riley: WHAT
Jade: In a romantic way!! She showed up at my door this morning with coffee and told me to pack a bag. We’re going somewhere for the day. She won’t tell me where. It’s very mysterious and hot.
Sloane: Jade. That’s adorable.
Margo: That’s also technically a crime but go off I guess.
Riley: How are things with you two? You’ve been weirdly quiet about it.
Jade: I don’t know how to explain it. She’s just..
. easy? Like being with her feels natural.
We talk for hours about nothing. She makes me laugh until I can’t breathe.
She does this thing where she looks at me like I’m the most fascinating person she’s ever met and I just melt into a puddle of useless goo.
Sloane: That’s called falling in love, babe.
Jade: SHUT UP
Jade: ...maybe
Jade: Also she told me something interesting
Riley: ?
Jade: Her brother. Caelan. He likes you.
Riley: What?
Jade: Like, REALLY likes you. Thessa says he talks about you constantly. She’s never seen him like this about anyone. Ever. In his whole life.
Sloane: Is Riley seriously just now figuring this out?
Margo: The man got her a signed book from the author we were currently reading. That’s dedication. That’s a man who has a vision board with your face on it.
Sloane: Okay that last part was a bit much.
Margo: I’m not wrong though. That man has “will commit crimes for you” energy. It’s hot but be careful.
Sloane: That’s honestly the best kind of energy. On paper. Irl? Not sure
Margo: Yeah. Legally questionable but emotionally satisfying.
Riley: We’re just friends
Sloane: Sure. And I’m the Queen of Spain.
Margo: Long live Queen Sloane.
Sloane: The crown is a burden but I bear it with grace.
Jade: Thessa says you’re special to him, Riley. And coming from his sister, that means a lot.
I stared at my phone, heart pounding.
I knew Caelan liked me. You don’t almost-kiss someone multiple times without liking them. You don’t sleep in their bed and get hard against their thigh and look at them like they’re the answer to every question you’ve ever asked without liking them.
But hearing it confirmed by his own sister made it real in a way I wasn’t prepared for.
My friends’ brunch plans had fallen through, and my head was spinning with revelations, and I was alone in my apartment with my thoughts and no one to help me process them.
What was I supposed to do with this?
I was still staring at my phone, trying to figure out what to do with my suddenly empty Friday, when someone started banging on my door.
“RILEY.”
My blood went cold.
“RILEY. I KNOW YOU’RE IN THERE. OPEN UP.”
The voice was slurred, angry and unfortunately very familiar. Damien.
“RILEY!” He banged harder, the door rattling in its frame. “You owe me money, bitch. You think you can just ignore my calls?! I made you. Without me, you’d be nothing!” He yelled, and I backed away from the door, heart hammering against my ribs.
My chest was tight, a panic attack threatening at the edges, that familiar feeling of the walls closing in, of air getting thin, of my body betraying me at the worst possible moment.
Damn. I shouldn’t have joked so much about going to therapy and should’ve actually gone instead.
I could’ve had my cuckoo fixed by now. Well. Next time will be.
I forced it down. Of course this was happening.
The universe just couldn’t let me have one nice morning thinking about a hot man.
It had to send my garbage ex to bang on my door and just couldn’t wait until after coffee.
Or a mimosa. No, it had to be now, while I was still in ratty pajamas with unwashed hair.
He was yelling about the royalties now, how he knew I was making more than I reported and how every single shit that happened in his life was my fault, but I just tuned him out.
It was the same shit he always said. Things that weren’t true - which I only discovered recently, after believing them for years.
My hands were shaking as I pulled up my texts.
Riley: Hi. Are you guys perhaps downstairs?
Dom: Yeah. What’s up?
I was typing out a response, trying to figure out how to explain the “situation” without sounding completely pathetic, when I heard the lock turning. I froze immediately.
The spare key. The one I’d hidden under the mat for emergencies. The one Damien knew about because I’d told him back when I was stupid enough to trust him and hadn’t thought of changing its place. Stupid.
The lock clicked. The handle started to turn.
I grabbed the first thing I saw, a frying pan from the dish rack, and positioned myself behind the kitchen counter. If he came in, I’d... I didn’t know what I’d do. Swing. Scream. Both. Die, possibly. At least I’d go out fighting.
But the door didn’t open.
There was a scuffle outside. A grunt, the sound of someone being shoved against a wall hard enough to rattle the pictures hanging in my hallway, then footsteps, loud and purposeful, going down the stairs.
And then nothing. Blissful silence.
I stood frozen, pan raised, waiting for the other shoe to drop.
After a long moment, I crept toward the door and opened it a crack to peer down the stairs.
I caught a glimpse of movement in the alley beside the building.
Damien, stumbling, his arm bent at an angle that looked uncomfortable.
And behind him, one hand wrapped around the back of his neck like he was a misbehaving puppy being dragged to the vet. ..
Caelan.
My breath caught. What... how... why was he...
I closed the door, pressed my back against it, and tried to process what just happened.
Caelan was here, and he had stopped Damien.
He had Damien by the neck and was dragging him into an alley, a sack of garbage headed for the dumpster.
I was grateful, confused, and, god help me, extremely aroused. This was so wrong.
My phone buzzed.
Dom: We handled the situation. Don’t worry.
We? So Caelan was friends with the tattoo guys now? Since when? How deep had he integrated himself into my life without me noticing?
I didn’t know if that was weird or sweet or both.
Ten minutes passed. I’d put down the pan but hadn’t moved far from it. I was pacing my tiny kitchen, running through scenarios in my head, when there was another knock at my door, softer this time.
“It’s me.”
Caelan’s voice. My heart did a complicated acrobatic routine as I opened the door.
He was standing in my hallway, wearing a black t-shirt and black jeans that made him look like he’d stepped out of an action movie. His hair was slightly mussed, like someone had grabbed it. His jaw was tight…And his knuckles were red.
I liked that look on him. I liked it a lot, more than I should probably admit to anyone, including myself.
“Hi,” he said. His expression was neutral, but his eyes were scanning my face, checking for damage, cataloging every detail like he needed to make sure I was intact.
“Hi,” I managed.
“Are you hurt?” The question came out clipped. His hands came up like he wanted to touch me, check for himself, but he held back.
I didn’t even pretend I didn’t know what he was talking about. “I’m fine. He didn’t get in.”
Danger crossed his face. “He won’t get in. Ever. He won’t come near this building again. He won’t come near you again.” His voice was low, certain, with an edge that made my stomach flip. “I made sure of it.”
“What did you do?”
“Nothing permanent.” A pause. “Unfortunately.”
“Caelan.”
“He’s alive and conscious. He has all his limbs.” Another pause, and his jaw tightened. “For now.”
Sue me, but I felt warmth spreading through my chest at his words.
“How did you know?” I asked. “That he was here?”
“I was just passing by.” The lie was so transparent it was almost insulting. “Wanted to see how you were.”
“Just passing by. At the exact moment someone was trying to break into my apartment.”
“Strange timing.” He didn’t even try to sound convincing. His eyes were still moving over me, checking. “I also said hi to Dom downstairs. We’re best friends.”
I chuckled at that. “Your knuckles are red.”
He glanced down at his hands like he was surprised to find them attached to his body. “I punched a wall. Unrelated.”
“Sure.”