30. Riley
30
RILEY
N erves make my eyes wider than normal, and my pale skin paler despite the makeup I’m wearing as I flatten a hand over the front of my black dress. It’s been a long and melancholy week since Gran’s passing. Grayson has been subdued and quiet. Other than planning the funeral and clearing out his Gran’s room at the nursing home, he’s spent a lot of time with Aurora, the two of them cuddled on the sofa watching daytime TV or on the rug in the living room while she showed him one of the numerous toys or games Logan bought for her.
It’s sweet—watching them together. Seeing Grayson bond with my little girl. Watching her get to know her big brother—even if she doesn’t know that’s who he is to her. It pulls at my heartstrings. I just wish it was under better circumstances. That there wasn’t this gray cloud perched over Grayson’s head.
However, every time he smiles at my little girl, I know that too will pass. That he will learn to shoulder his grief. That this won’t be a step back for him in bottling up his emotions. He truly seems to have turned a corner, even though it’s obvious he’s struggling. I’m proud of him. However, today will be the most challenging day yet. Today, he buries his Gran. Today, he says his goodbyes.
Grayson is a wreck, though I think he realizes now that he has all of us to lean on. We just have to make it through today.
Movement in the doorway catches my attention, and I meet Royce’s hardened stare. His lips are pursed, face set in fierce determination, much like it has been for the past week. Lydia escaped the night Gran died. Royce offered to go after her, but I told him no. That’s what she wants—to take up more of our lives. I truly am done with her.
Besides, Blue found flights for both her and David to Switzerland. I’m guessing they both decided to flee the country? Whatever. If I was a more vengeful person, perhaps I’d go after them, but all I want is to move on. To spend time with my daughter and my guys. To cement this family we’re building.
“Ready?” Despite squaring his shoulders as though he’s prepared to go into battle, Royce’s voice is soft and gentle.
“No,” I honestly admit. Lydia and David may no longer be a concern, but Bertram most definitely is. We haven’t heard anything from him since we found Aurora, and with Gran’s death, Grayson hasn’t been in the office. However, we all agree he won’t miss the funeral today, even if it’s just for appearance’s sake.
I wouldn’t be so terrified if it were just me facing him, but none of us were happy to leave Aurora with someone we didn’t implicitly trust, so we’re bringing her with us today. She’s who I’m most afraid for. What will facing him again do to her? Royce and Logan will do whatever it takes to keep her away from him. To keep his eyes from even touching her, but I have no doubt the second he sees her with us, he won’t be able to stay away.
Pushing off the doorframe, Royce stalks toward me. My gaze drops over him. I so rarely get to see Royce in anything other than jeans or sweats, but today, a perfectly tailored black suit is stretched over his broad frame, hugging his muscles. The suit jacket makes his shoulders appear wider than usual, and the pants emphasize his narrow waist before wrapping around his tree-trunk thighs.
I bet if he turned around, his ass would look incredible. It’s more than him just looking good in a suit, though. It’s the fact that despite how smart and polished he appears, his wild recklessness can’t be contained. It shines through in the scruff of his beard and the way he carries himself with predatory grace. No man with Royce’s bulk should be able to carry themselves with such ease—like a panther.
Perhaps it’s the situation we’re walking into and the shit we’ve all been dragged through in recent weeks, but there’s an intensity about him—more so than usual—a dangerous aura that seeps through the seams and crackles in the air around him.
Royce might look refined, but everything about him screams stay the fuck out of my way.
He groans, hand fisting my hair. “Babydoll, don’t look at me like that.”
My lips curl up in a coy smile. “Like what?”
“Like you’re two seconds away from falling to your knees when we both know we don’t have time to satisfy one another right now.”
“Are you sure? I can be quick.” I’m teasing. His eyes narrow to a glare, and I chuckle.
“Are you seriously going to make me walk into a funeral with a hard-on?” he growls.
I shrug a shoulder, untangling myself from his hold as I step away. “You have the car journey there to picture whatever you need to to get that thing to go down.” I gesture toward his crotch.
Royce groans, a half-pained, half-frustrated sound. “Babydoll, it won’t go anywhere with you staring and pointing at it.”
I merely smirk as he adjusts himself in his pants.
Eyes narrowed on me, he growls, “You’re going to pay for that when we get home.”
I smirk. “Promises, promises.”
He dives for me, and I dance out of his way, darting toward the door. Before I can escape, though, his arms wrap around me from behind. I melt into his embrace, my head resting on his chest. Despite not wearing his usual clothing, he still smells of leather and something earthy, and I wonder if it’s his cologne or shower gel. Whatever it is, it’s perfectly him and exactly what I need right now.
The flirty moment passes, and the weight of everything against us hovers heavily overhead as I sigh. Royce drops his head, inhaling like he needs to breathe me in as badly as I need to fill my lungs with him. “Let’s just get through today, sweetheart.”
The car ride to the cemetery is quiet. The kind of quiet that feels heavy, like a blanket that’s too warm and thick, pressing down on us. Logan’s hands grip the steering wheel tighter than usual, his knuckles white against the black leather. Royce stares out the window, his jaw clenched, lost in his own thoughts. Grayson is in the back with me, his gaze fixed on Aurora, who’s nestled between us, playing with the straps on her car seat.
Aurora, with her bright eyes and innocent curiosity, is the only one who doesn’t quite understand the gravity of today. She looks up at me with that wide-eyed expression that makes my heart melt and ache simultaneously.
“Mommy?” she asks, her voice small and uncertain, “You said we’re going to say goodbye to Gran, but… where did she go?”
Grayson shifts beside her, his hand coming up to rest on her small shoulder. I see the pain in his eyes as he struggles to find the words. How do you explain death to a three-year-old? She might not have known Gran—never met her—but that doesn’t make it any easier to explain to her the permanence of death.
I clear my throat, trying to keep my voice steady. “Gran... Gran is in a special place now, sweetie,” I begin, choosing my words carefully. “She’s up in the sky, like a star. Watching over us.”
Aurora’s brow furrows, and I can tell she’s trying to process this. “Like the stars we see at night?” she asks, her voice full of wonder.
“Yes, exactly like that.” I force a small smile. “She’s up there, watching us, making sure we’re okay.”
Aurora nods, her little mind accepting this explanation for now. She turns her attention back to the straps on her seat, her fingers fiddling with them absentmindedly. Grayson’s hand tightens just a bit on her shoulder, and I can see the struggle in his eyes. This isn’t just about explaining something complicated to a child—it’s about dealing with his own grief, his own loss.
Logan releases a long breath, glancing at me through the rearview mirror. We share a look, one that says so much without saying anything at all. We’re all feeling it, the sadness, the loss. The car feels like it’s filled with it, suffocating in a way that’s hard to escape.
The trees blur past as we drive, the world outside moving while everything inside feels like it’s standing still. We’re heading to the cemetery to say goodbye to someone who meant so much to Grayson, someone who was there for him. The only person who was ever truly there for him.
While Grayson needs today to say goodbye, I’m attending the funeral to thank this incredible woman who gave Grayson a perspective he would never have had. A woman without whose influence I shudder to think what Grayson would have become. Just like his father, I imagine.
As we pull up to the cemetery, the car slows down, and I see the people gathered, dressed in black, standing in small groups. They’re waiting, murmuring amongst themselves, the somber mood evident in their mannerisms.
The cemetery is a mix of old and new, with weathered tombstones standing alongside freshly dug graves. The sight of it all sends a shiver down my spine, a reminder of the finality of today. Grayson shifts beside me, his gaze fixed on the gathering crowd, his face unreadable, but I can feel the tension rolling off him in waves.
Logan turns off the engine, and the sudden silence inside the car is somehow even more deafening. Royce finally tears his gaze away from the window, glancing back at us with a look that mirrors how we’re all feeling—heavy, tired, not quite ready, but knowing we have to be.
Aurora’s small hand reaches for mine, her fingers curling around my own. “Mommy?” she asks softly, almost whispering, “Will Gran be okay up there?”
I squeeze her hand gently, leaning in to kiss her forehead. “Yes, baby,” I whisper back, my voice catching in my throat. “Gran will be okay.”
As we step out of the car, the weight of what’s ahead of us settles in fully—the reality of it all. We join the others, making our way toward the small gathering. Each step is heavier than the last, and as we approach the crowd, I feel Grayson’s hand brush against mine, a silent reassurance that we’re in this together, that we’ll get through it, no matter how hard it feels right now.