Chapter 42
Riley
“STAYING—EVEN WHEN LIFE HURTS.”
ONE WEEK LATER
“Can I join you?”
My head whips up at the sound of Collins’ soft voice. I snap my journal closed and set it aside. “You never have to ask, Snow.”
“I know, but—” She looks down and shrugs, leaning against my doorframe and picking at a frayed thread at the hem of the dress she’s wearing. Her newly pink pastel strands have been pulled up into a high ponytail with baby hairs falling loosely to frame her face.
She looks so damn pretty today. She’s stunning every day, but when she walked downstairs, wearing this simple lime-green t-shirt dress with her high tops and lacy socks with her hair pulled back and winged eyeliner…
I think my heart stopped and kickstarted at a new, rapid pace.
Oversized tees are her security blanket, and she may not have noticed it, but I did.
So it illuminated my soul to see her differently today.
It means she’s feeling more and more comfortable in her own skin, and that’s huge.
Collins looks at me with trepidation as she chews the inside of her cheek for a moment. “You hadn’t been to our room all day, and I figured you wanted some alone time. I didn’t want to intrude on that.”
“Snow.” I’m shaking my head before she can even finish her thought.
“I always want you with me,” I confess, scooting over on my bed and patting the space beside me.
She joins me and curls up against me, beneath my arm.
“It’s just habit for me to come here when I want to write or practice quietly…
absolutely not to get space from you. I’m sorry that I made you worry like that. ”
She pulls my comforter over our knees and burrows deeper into my side.
“You don’t need to apologize, Ri. I don’t ever want to be away from you, but my therapist assures me that it’s healthy and normal to need space at times.
” She stiffens a little at her next words.
“I promise it won’t hurt my feelings for you to tell me so. ”
“Hey,” I murmur softly, hooking her chin with the crook of my finger, tipping her head back to look at me. I almost forgot what I wanted to say because goddamn it, she’s fucking stunning. Big jade eyes and freckles hiding behind her blush have me swallowing hard.
How in the hell did I get so lucky?
I must have said it out loud because Collins gives me the most genuine smile, so sweet and tender that it makes my heart melt. I can’t help but tighten my grip on her as I smile back.
“Wherever you are, that’s where I want to be, baby,” I whisper, my eyes dropping to her slightly parted lips. “Come bother me anytime you feel like it.”
She giggles at that, the sound sweet yet broken. “Noted.”
Her hand lifts to cup my jaw, her thumb stroking softly back and forth across my skin, and it has my nerve endings firing on all cylinders. “You look beautiful today, Snow.”
She smiles again, her lips now brushing against mine. “So do you.”
I’ve been wearing baggy sweats and a hoodie all day despite it being hotter than Satan’s asscrack outside. I snort, about to call bullshit, but she presses her soft, pouty lips against mine, and suddenly, arguing seems completely unimportant.
The kiss is slow and sensual, and I let her take the lead, consuming as much or as little of me as she desires. I cup the back of her neck to pull her closer, but the moment my fingers clamp down, my hands start to shake. It’s not as intense as it used to be, so I count it as a win.
I can’t help the shame that washes over me.
While I’ve been having more good days than bad, it’s still embarrassing that I can’t always hold her properly, the way I crave to.
The constant shaking makes it hard to stop the negative, self-deprecating thoughts that cut in on this moment.
Instead, I focus on the good—on Collins—and I pull back and kiss her one last time, deeply and slowly.
Hoping she can’t feel the frustration festering just beneath the surface.
When we break apart, Collins looks beautifully sated just from a kiss alone, and it settles something within me. That is, until she eyes my journal. She reaches for it, but instead of snatching it, she brushes her fingers over it deftly, a little smile tugging at the corners of her lips.
“You’ve always got this on you, don’t you?”
I nod, picking it up and handing it to her in a silent offering.
She straightens a little, her eyes widening. “Oh,” she breathes, pushing it back into my chest, causing my brow to furrow. “I wasn’t asking because I wanted to know what’s inside, Ri, I promise.”
“I know, Snow.” I smile, taking her wrist and flattening her palm so I can place the journal in her hand. “This journal has seen every side of me. The parts I even tried to keep hidden. The pieces of me I had to relearn and rediscover…after.”
Her eyes mist over, and the soft intake of breath tells me she understands exactly what I’m talking about.
She swallows, trying to sound casual, “And what is it that you’ve been writing about these days, Riley Benjamin?”
An idea takes form in my head, so I smile, hiding my sudden nerves.
“You can read it for yourself, or…” I trail off, scooting to the edge of the bed and offering my hand.
Puzzled, she takes it, the cutest little crease forming between her brows as she stands. “Or?”
“I can show you.”
Why in the hell did I think this was a good idea?
For years, this journal sat untouched, waiting for my pen to touch the paper.
I appreciated the gift, but I just hadn’t found the right words to put into it.
Then, I met Collins Adaire Weston, and before I knew it, I was filling up page after page.
Songs, poems, and just feelings I’d never thought I’d share with someone else in my lifetime.
Every entry led back to her. Some were about Creed as my feelings started to shift slowly, but Collins is the center of our universe, so she’s the inspiration behind the majority of these lines.
Before we were taken, I started to work on a song.
Just a few verses here and there, but nothing that really added up.
But a few weeks ago, inspiration took hold of me, and it didn’t stop. I wanted it to be a surprise for Creed and Collins, so I spent several sleepless nights writing until I got it right. To think I almost fucked everything up by leaving…
It’s a song of love and hope and yearning. I don’t even know if it’s something Bear and Blair would agree to put in the album, but I don’t care about that.
It’s a song for Collins and Creed. A song about finding family and forgiveness. It’s an apology.
Wilder had walked in on me humming the melody when he arrived early for one of our sessions a few weeks ago.
I’ve never seen a man sulk as hard as he did when I wouldn’t sing for him.
It was all in jest; he wasn’t truly upset.
He understood that the first time these words would come to life wouldn’t be for anyone other than the very people they were written for.
The door to the studio swings open, and Creed barges in, excitement evident as it practically pulses from his veins. He pauses when he sees where I’m sitting, a wild grin tugging at his lips.
“You’re behind the mic?” He narrows his eyes playfully before they widen, and his mouth pops open on a dramatic gasp. “Holy shit. You’re behind the mic.” He turns back to where Collins is sitting on a stool in the corner of the room. “Baby, he’s behind the mic.”
Collins laughs as she swivels in her seat. “He is.”
He turns back to me. “Why? I mean, I’m fucking thrilled…but why?”
I grip the back of my neck, the nerves in my gut amplifying.
“I-I want to show you two something, but I need your help.” Creed perks up even more at that. “Can you still read sheet music?”
“It’s been a few years, but yeah.” He nods, taking the papers that I hand to him. “Piano?”
“Y-yeah.” I clear my throat, forcing myself to let go of the back of my neck and relax.
I look over at Collins, who waits patiently. Suddenly, she’s too far away, and I need her closer. “C’mere, Snow.”
She hops down and crosses the few feet between us to stand between my legs. Her face is partially hidden by the mic that hangs between us, but I love the way the studio light makes her skin shimmer and glow.
Creed kisses each of our temples before moving to sit behind the piano next to us. I watch with my heart pounding as he reads the music, his eyes luminous as he takes it all in.
His fingers create the first notes, and all of the breath whooshes from my lungs. Something I created is coming to life right before me, and it’s already more than I could’ve ever imagined. He plays the song exactly as I had mapped it out, but somehow it sounds better because he is playing it.
I hand my journal to Collins, already open and turned to the page with my lyrics.
My confession.
I give her the option to read what I had written or to simply listen.
The melody circles back and pauses for a beat, letting the leading note linger and hum through the air.
Taking a deep breath, I open my mouth to sing.
I let my story be told with every note.
The world narrows down to three perfect points: Collins, Creed, and me. My voice is quiet to start, nervousness causing my words to tremble as I sing, but the feel of Collins’ hand wrapping around mine and squeezing reassuringly boosts my confidence.
With every word, I tell them just how much they’ve changed me for the better. How breaking down my walls and exposing vulnerability is anything but weak. It’s a plea to keep me accountable and to keep me on my toes. It’s a cry for forgiveness. It’s about staying even when life hurts.
I swing my gaze between the two of them, ensuring that they know that my words are intended for each of them. It’s a promise that I am here. That I will never try to take the easy road out again. A vow to stay and fight their demons as well as my own.