8. Riley
8
RILEY
T he thump of a backpack hitting the seat beside me jolts me out of my daydreaming. Although, is it daydreaming when all your thoughts resemble a nightmare?
Blinking, I stare absently across the tables—some occupied but most empty—and book stacks that comprise the Halston U library. Right, I came here to study. Coming to campus had sounded like a good idea this morning. Anything to get out of that house, to distract myself…
Yeah, that plan failed.
All I’ve done is think. Think of her. Of what I could have done differently. Of how horrifically I’ve let my own daughter down.
A large palm is waved in front of my face, obstructing my view.
“Earth to Riley.”
Tearing my gaze away, I look blankly at Grayson. Everything feels so distant… disconnected. I can barely keep my thoughts in line. I’d forgotten entirely that something—or some one —had distracted me. “What are you doing here?”
Even my voice sounds monotone and world-weary.
“You weren’t answering your phone.” His eyes narrow in a glare, but there isn’t the usual warning behind the action. If anything, concern is the prevalent emotion shining through his dark brown orbs.
“Oh.” I glance down at my phone, sitting on the table. I hadn’t even heard it buzz or seen the screen light up.
“Pack your stuff.” At Grayson’s order, my face snaps up to his, and my features pull down in a frown. “Now, Riley.” His tone is non-negotiable, and I obey without a word of protest because I have zero fight left in me.
The cadence of his sigh from behind hints at his disappointment at my lack of fight, but I pretend I don’t hear it as I shove my things into my bag. Before I can swing it over my shoulder, though, he snatches it from my hand and strides away from the table, leaving me with no option but to chase after him. A faint flicker of irritation penetrates the numb shell I’m encased in.
Asshole.
I have to take two steps for each of his as he marches across campus.
“Hey,” I bark as we approach his car, and he finally slows. “What are you doing? I have class in an hour.”
Whirling on me, he cocks an arrogant eyebrow. It should make him look haughty. Correction, it does make him look haughty, but not in the way that grates on your nerves and screams rich kid . Instead, Grayson manages to make the entire stance appear… smoldering.
Haughty has never looked so hot.
It’s infuriating.
He is infuriating.
“Don’t try to tell me you’re actually going to take in a word of what is said in that class,” he drawls in a tone that should be insulting but instead is like a caress against my skin.
My lips purse because, no, I haven’t managed to take in a word of what’s been said in any of my classes all week. I’m here because I can’t stand the thought of sitting in my apartment or at the guys’ doing nothing.
Even if my being on campus is just as futile.
Not helping myself.
Not able to help my daughter.
Useless.
I’m completely. Fucking. Useless.
“Hey!” The snap of his tongue, along with the cold press of fingers as they wrap around my chin, wrenches me from my spiraling thoughts and dumps me firmly in the wasteland that has become my reality. “Where did you go?”
I stare up into Grayson’s impenetrable eyes. They’re always shielded, shuttered against the world. He keeps everything so carefully contained, putting on a front for everyone around him.
“Nowhere.” I try to pull free from his grip, but he holds firm, preventing me from hiding.
“Don’t lie to me.” It’s less of a chastisement and more of a plea. Which is the only reason I don’t balk and snap at him as I typically do.
“Nowhere pleasant,” I correct in the same tired tone.
“Tell me anyway.”
My responding sigh is heavy, weighed down with the truth I don’t want to admit aloud. However, Grayson’s hard stare tells me I won’t get away with another vague non-answer.
My teeth sink into the tip of my tongue, biting back the truth even as my gaze drops, unable to meet his as I confess, “I’ve never felt so helpless. There isn’t a single thing I can do to help my daughter. To protect her. To bring her home. What am I supposed to do, Grayson?” I throw my hands out to my sides and gaze up at him imploringly. “What. Am. I. Supposed. To. Do? I’m genuinely asking because I don’t have a fucking clue. My baby girl is missing , and I’m going to class, taking self-defense, and having dinner with your fucking dad like nothing is wrong.”
Releasing my chin, his fingers skate down the column of my throat until his hand rests at the base and his thumb rubs tight circles over my pulse point. His gentle yet domineering touch sears into my skin like a brand.
“Firstly.” His rough voice is gravelly against my skin. “You are doing absolutely everything you need to be doing.” My lips part in protest, but his eyes narrow in a silent warning not to interrupt. “You are helping your daughter. By looking after yourself, you are helping. ” His thumb continues to rub soothing strokes. “She needs you to take care of yourself right now so you can take care of her when we bring her home.”
Eyes burning with unshed tears, I close them.
“Look at me.” My eyes snap open at his demanding rasp, and I instantly fall into the dark pools of his irises. So stoic. So steady. Grayson’s ability to hide his emotions has always grated on me, but now… Now, I stare into those depthless orbs, and instead of searching for answers to what he’s thinking, I steal strength from his steady gaze. Strength that I use to tape, super glue, and staple all the shattered pieces of myself together. It’s a temporary fix. A Band-Aid on a gaping wound. A belt to an amputated limb.
But at least I’m not freely bleeding.
“There she is.”
I don’t know when Grayson became someone who could soothe my jagged edges—at least, without the two of us attacking one another and ending up naked—but that’s precisely what he’s achieved.
And I’m too wrung out to question it. To worry about what it might mean. To throw up the mental roadblocks I usually do when I sense him inching closer to my heart.
“Come with me.”
Although it’s phrased as a demand, there is a hint of a question behind it. Just enough hesitation for me to know he’ll leave it be if I refuse. Sucking my bottom lip between my teeth, I search his gaze before glancing around me. A few students hurry between buildings; otherwise, we’re alone, the cold weather preventing anyone from dawdling outside.
“Okay,” I acquiesce, turning back to face him in time to catch the flash of accomplishment that crosses his features before he turns away to open the back door. He places our backpacks inside before opening the passenger door and waving me into his sports car. The cold leather of the seat penetrates through my tights, chilling the backs of my legs, and I shiver as Grayson slides in behind the wheel.
With the press of a few buttons, heat blasts through the vents, and a moment later, my seat heats, and I sink deeper into it. Grayson fires off a text on his phone before he pulls out of the parking space, and as we drive out of campus, I stare out the window.
A moment later, the sound system in his car announces an incoming call from Logan. I turn to stare at the console as Grayson answers. “The whole point of messaging you was to avoid a phone call,” he drawls.
Logan scoffs on the other end. “You tell me you’re taking Shortcake off campus, and you expect me not to question if you’re kidnapping her.”
A semblance of a smile twitches at the corners of my lips, gaining momentum when Grayson huffs his irritation. He must see my response because he flicks his gaze my way, eyes narrowing in warning, however there’s none of his typical hostility. Instead, his eyes are alight… almost as though he’s amused. I find it intriguing—I find everything about Grayson intriguing. He’s an enigma. A puzzle that, just when you think you’ve figured out how to solve, you realize it’s more complex than you initially anticipated.
“Shortcake, you there?”
Logan’s voice pulls my attention back to the console. “I’m here. Don’t worry. There was no kidnapping involved. I came of my own free will.”
“Are you sure?” he enquires, unconvinced. “Pizza is the code word. Say pizza, and I’ll come rescue you.”
“You realize I can hear you,” Grayson drawls as I chuckle.
“I promise I’m fine,” I assure Logan.
Logan makes a noise as though he still doesn’t believe me but relents. “Fine, but if you change your mind, send me a pizza slice emoji, and I’ll come and rescue you from Grayson’s grumpy ass.”
“I’m hanging up now,” Grayson grumbles, pressing end call in the middle of Logan’s protests.
With a smile still on my face, I relax into my seat and ask, “Where are we going anyway?” We ended up at the forgotten church the last time we were alone, and my blood heats at the memory, my core clenching at the idea of a repeat performance. Grayson and I may have our issues, but fucking is most definitely not one of them. And the way he manages to make me forget while he’s chasing me… pinning me down… stretching me…
“To see Gran.”
That instantly wrenches my thoughts from the filthy gutter they’d tumbled into.
“I go and sit with her every week,” he continues. “She has advanced dementia, and most of the time, she doesn’t know who I am.” Tight lines form around his eyes, his knuckles whitening around the steering wheel as he stares steadfastly out the front windshield.
My hand moves to rest on his forearm, and I feel his muscles flex beneath my fingers. “You’re a good grandson,” I murmur.
His head whips in my direction, eyes flaring with so many fractured emotions—doubt, grief, weariness. It suddenly hits me, and I don’t know why it didn’t before… the weight of the responsibility that he carries on his shoulders. That he has been carrying… since when? Since he was eighteen?
It’s not only his responsibility to his company but to his Gran… the only family member he has left. The only connection to his mom. Most likely the only woman he ever remembers loving him…
“You were seventeen when your dad was arrested. Did you stay with her?”
Focus back on the road, he nods. “It wasn’t long after I went to live with her that I started seeing the signs. She’d forget to turn off the stove, leave lights on, and faucets running.”
My heart clenches for a teenage Grayson, not only losing his dad and the life he’d grown up in but having to watch his Gran slowly disappear too.
“It was manageable when I lived with her in high school, but when I started at Halston… She lived too far away, and I couldn’t be here and there at the same time. I paid for someone to come in and check on her, but I started getting calls from neighbors. Even a call from the police department once, saying they’d found her walking down the road in her slippers and nightgown.” He sighs wearily. “It was then that I realized I couldn’t let her stay there by herself. I packed up all her belongings—sold what I could and put the rest in storage—and registered her at Sunnyside Nursing Home.”
“You did the right thing,” I tell him, sensing he needs to hear it.
“Yeah,” he sighs. “Maybe.”
“Definitely. You did the right thing for her—and for you. Even though it was probably a tough call to make.” Staring absently out the windshield, I admit, “I very nearly turned down my admission to Halston. Although I’d been working toward the goal for an entire year, I knew what being accepted would mean. Being faced with the reality…” I sigh, twisting my fingers in the ends of my hair.
“Knowing you’d have to leave Aurora.”
“Hardest decision I’ve ever had to make. When my— Lydia —found out I was pregnant, she insisted that I abort it. I didn’t even have to think about it. In my mind, it wasn’t a decision. I’d known since the moment the pink lines appeared on that stick that I was keeping the baby.” I scoff, remembering that time. “Not that it stopped her from finding someone who would do it against my will. Thankfully, I was too far along by then.” I shake my head, not wanting to think about how close I came to losing Aurora before I even really had her.
“My point is, sometimes we have to make the hard decisions. We have to do what we really don’t want to do because it’s ultimately in the best interests of everyone involved. The last thing I wanted to do was leave Aurora with Lydia for four more years, but I couldn’t bring her with me. Even if Lydia had agreed, I didn’t have the means to provide for her. If I wanted to give my daughter the future she deserves, I had to make the hard choice. It was because I love her that I left her.”
Sighing heavily, my gaze drops to my knees. “I knew Lydia didn’t give Aurora the love or attention she needs, but I never ever thought she’d be so callous as to do this.” My throat closes over. “If I’d known…”
A large, smooth hand lands on my knee, squeezing.
“You’re the one that told me regrets don’t do us any good. You made the best decision for you and your daughter at the time. You couldn’t have known how things would pan out. All we can do is look forward.”
Grayson’s words ring in my ear, and his hand remains on my knee for the rest of the drive to the nursing home.
“How are things going at the office?” I ask as we pull into the parking lot at the nursing home.
Sliding the car into an available space, Grayson’s head falls back against the headrest as he groans. “Not good.”
“Your dad still causing problems?” He’d mentioned earlier in the week how he’d made a surprise appearance in the office, strutting around like a peacock and acting as though he’d never been gone.
“Of course. He’s doing his best to undermine me. To encourage people to go to him instead of me. It’s pissing me the fuck off.”
I nod thoughtfully. “It’s like he’s trying to reclaim the life he had before his arrest.”
“I’m pretty certain that’s exactly what he’s trying to do.” Grayson’s head falls to the side, those steely eyes colliding with mine. “Except, I have this sick feeling that he wants more from you.”
My brows furrow. “That doesn’t make sense. He’s still married to Lydia.”
“Yeah, as a way to remain close to you.” He lifts his head to stare out the windshield, running a hand through his hair and mussing it up. “Whatever it is, I don’t like it.”
Yeah, neither do I.
Grayson knocks on the door before popping his head into the room. “Gran? I have a friend with me today.” Pushing it wider, he steps over the threshold, ushering for me to follow.
I look around the spacious room. Pale blue walls and light streaming through the large window give it a homey feel. A bed is pushed against one wall, and two armchairs are positioned by a window opposite a television, which is on but muted.
Rounding the chairs, a frail, elderly woman comes into view. A basket of yarn is placed by her feet, knitting needles in her hands as she glances between us with a friendly, if not bland, smile.
“Oh, hello. Are you here about the refrigerator? It keeps making that awful noise.” She makes to get up, but Grayson places a hand over hers.
“No need to get up,” he says with a reassuring smile. “Our colleagues are looking at the refrigerator as we speak. We thought we would keep you company while they did.”
“Oh.” His Gran relaxes back into her chair. “Well, isn’t that sweet of you?” Her eyes scour his face for a drawn-out moment, eyebrows slightly furrowed as though she can’t quite piece together what she’s seeing. “What were your names again?”
With that amiable smile still in place, Grayson places a hand over his chest. “I’m Grayson.” Gesturing to me, he says, “And this is Riley.”
His Gran’s gaze flits to mine, passing over my face and pausing on my auburn hair before returning to Grayson.
“Grayson and Riley. What lovely names.”
Gesturing to the spare armchair, Grayson silently tells me to sit as he pulls over a stool and perches on it.
“What are you knitting there?” I ask, indicating her knitting needles.
A grin that reaches her eyes spreads across his Gran’s face. “A baby blanket. My daughter is pregnant with our first grandchild.” Grayson’s inhale is audible, but the delight on his Gran’s face is blinding.
“That’s so exciting,” I say, keeping up the conversation and giving Grayson a moment. “Do you know yet if it’s a boy or a girl?”
“A sweet baby boy.”
“How far along is your daughter?”
“She’s just entered the second trimester and started showing a little baby bump.”
I grin at her. “She’ll be able to feel the baby kicking in no time. How was her morning sickness? I had a terrible time with my little one. Could barely keep anything down for the first twelve weeks.”
Gran’s eyes go wide as her gaze rakes over me. “You don’t look nearly old enough to have a child.”
Throwing my head back in laughter, I nod in agreement. “I have a three—nearly four—year old. A girl.” Fishing my phone from the pocket of my coat that I shed when I sat down, I pull up a photo and show her.
“Oh, isn’t she a sweetpea?” she coos.
“She’s a stereotypical little girl. Obsessed with princesses and everything pink.”
Gran chuckles, eyes still on the photo on my phone.
“My grandson was the same way at that age.” It takes me a second to grasp that showing her a picture of Aurora must have shifted her reality slightly, and my gaze slides to Grayson, who is staring transfixed at his Gran.
“He was obsessed with princesses too?” I tease, keeping my focus on Grayson. His gaze snaps to mine, and he mouths ‘ haha’ even as the corners of his lips lift.
“Oh gosh, no.” She chuckles. “Girls were gross. He was a typical boy, getting himself into all sorts of trouble. Had his mama constantly chasing after him, dragging him out of trees and cleaning up his cuts and scrapes.” Amusement softens her features. “She even had to hose him down in the backyard one day after he crawled through a hole in the hedge after a rainstorm.” She shakes her head. “He was covered head to toe in mud. Looked like a swamp monster.”
A rough rasp rips from Grayson.
“I bet he’s still a troublemaker,” I tease Gran.
Some of the life in her eyes fades, and her shoulders sag. “I wish. That boy carries the weight of the world on his shoulders. He’s been through so much. He tries not to let it show, but I see the strain, the toll it’s taken on him. Losing his mother, enduring his father, and being forced to grow up too fast. It’s changed him, hardened him. He never complains or speaks of the hardships, but I see it. I see how it’s molded him into the man he is—for better or worse.”
Throat thick, my gaze slides to Grayson. My breath catches at the utter, wretched heartbreak that fractures his features.
He’s silent while I chat with his Gran for a bit longer, but I keep casting glances his way. He keeps his head buried in his hands, but I can tell his grandmother’s admission has affected him.
When it’s time for us to leave, I hold my hand out for her to shake. “It was a pleasure to meet you.”
“You too, dear.”
Grayson says his goodbyes before we leave her room, walking back to the reception in silence.
“How was she for you today?” a woman behind the desk asks when we approach.
“She was in good spirits.” Grayson’s response is terse, his features set into their typical impenetrable mask as he focuses on the visitor log before him.
“I’m sure she enjoyed having a new visitor,” the woman says, giving me a warm smile as Grayson signs his name and sets down the pen. “Well, it’s a beautiful day. You two should go and enjoy it. I’ve got your Gran, sweetie.”
I roll my lips between my teeth, holding back my laughter as Grayson places a hand at the base of my spine and escorts me outside.
He walks beside me across the parking lot, and my shoulders begin to shake as we approach his car. He glances at me from the corner of his eyes, his gaze narrowing; however, there’s a rare, mischievous spark illuminating his dark orbs. “What, pray tell, has you so amused?”
Lips still between my teeth, they slip free as I grin. “Oh, I don’t know, sweetie .”
His eyes flare, mirth dancing in their dark depths. “You little—” He dives for me, and I squeal, jumping backward and running around to the car’s passenger side.
Except he follows, barricading me against the door with his long arms and solid body.
“Think you can tease me like that without punishment, Tempest?” He breathes into my ear before nipping the lobe with his teeth and sending shivers cascading down my spine.
“You like my teasing… sweetie.”
A groan, followed by the bite of teeth on flesh, sends a tug straight to my core. “God help me, I do,” he whispers against my skin as he trails his lips closer to the crook of my neck. “I like your teasing. I like your fight. I like it when you glare at me like you’re envisioning stabbing me.”
One hand leaves the car to glide down my side before resting on my hip. “I like that you’re soft yet fierce. Caring yet cutting. I like your tears and the sound of your laugh. That when I challenge you, you challenge me right back.”
He pulls back just enough for our eyes to collide. “But what I love the most about you, Tempest, is your pain.” My brows dip in confusion. “It is the pain you have endured that makes the fact you can tease inspiring, that makes your fight so much more fearsome. Makes your ability to care so precious, your tears more potent, and your laugh fucking musical .”
Leaning in, he presses his forehead against mine, our breaths tangling in the scant space between our lips. “That pain that should have destroyed you, yet you’re still standing, still breathing. That strength with the courage—the resilience and sheer determination it must have taken… It’s a flame teasing me closer when I’m lost in the dark and need a way out.”
“Grayson.” His name is barely a breath between us. Like a tug on a boat, his body leans into mine, a soul-deep sigh slipping from between his lips before he wrenches himself away.
“Don’t say anything.” He looks down at me with his usual stoic expression, except it’s lacking some of its typical hardness. There’s a rare softness around his eyes, a slight hitch to his lip. “Just do as you’re told for once and get in the car.”
Not moving, I stare up at him, searching. “Do you want to talk about it?”
He hesitates before shaking his head. “No.”
“Okay,” I readily agree. “I may not understand what pain you’ve endured, Grayson, but like you just pointed out, I do understand pain, and I know what it is to be forced to grow up too fast.” I give him a small smile and a shrug of my shoulder. “In case you ever feel like talking.”
Giving him my back, I slide into the car, feeling the intensity of his gaze boring into me before he strides around the front of the vehicle.
As he gets in, his phone buzzes in his pocket, and he pulls it out, frowning at the screen.
“What is it?” I ask, suddenly on alert.
He tilts the screen so I can see the text from Royce.
Get to The Depot now. We have a lead.