15. Riley
15
RILEY
A headache pounds behind my eyes as I step back into a dining room that I hope to never set foot in again after tonight.
Hearing me, my mother looks up from where she’s sipping on her glass of white wine. A look of disdain crosses her face. “You’re still here.”
“I believe we have some things to discuss.”
Flicking her gaze toward a door that I’m assuming Bertram disappeared through since he didn’t re-enter the foyer when he stormed off, she says, “Now hardly seems like the time.”
“Now seems like exactly the time,” I immediately counter. “Where is my daughter?”
I doubt Bertram is listening in on our conversation, but I keep my voice low, nonetheless. My mother casts another glance toward the door, appearing equally intent that Bertram doesn’t hear what we are discussing.
Lydia places her glass on the table with an exorbitantly long sigh, followed by an excessive gulp of her wine. Still staring at her nails, she says, “I’ve sent Aurora away to a boarding school.”
What. The Actual. Fuck?
Certain I must have heard her wrong, I repeat, “You sent her to boarding school?”
My mother’s attitude is gratingly nonchalant as she shrugs a shoulder. “It was the best thing for her. I wish I had been able to do the same with you.”
Of course she does, but that is neither here nor there.
“What boarding school?” I demand, beyond confused. This is not what I expected her to say, and it’s thrown me for a loop. Is it possible she changed her mind at the last second, and instead of selling her, she sent my daughter to boarding school? I mean, we don’t have any proof she actually sold her. Just that she refused to sell her to Ruthless . But why would she change her mind? Why would she go to all that effort to find Ruthless if she was going to back out at the last second? Maybe she got scared…
As far-fetched as it seems, hope flickers in my chest.
She waves a dismissive hand. “I forget the name. One of those expensive European ones. France? Switzerland? It had a fancy name I can’t pronounce.”
“Why would you do that? Why would you send her away?”
She scoffs like I’m some sort of idiot. “My husband was being released from prison.” Her hand lifts to rest over her heart, and she looks at me, appalled. “We needed time to ourselves without some sticky-fingered kid getting in the way.”
“So give her to me,” I argue. “You don’t send her away without consulting me.”
Again, she waves away my protests, and I swear, if she does it one more time, I’m going to snap the bones in her wrist.
Folding my arms over my chest, I tap my foot. “You know what I think? I think you found out your husband was getting out of prison, and you knew if he found out you were raising his kid, who he knew nothing about, he’d take the child and leave you. After all, it’s never been you he wanted, has it?”
“You spiteful child,” my mother hisses.
“My daughter is not in some European fucking boarding school, is she?” Hoping that she is, is futile. My mother is too selfish. Even if she got cold feet, she wouldn’t pass up the money. Or risk losing her husband. Vibrating with rage as I advance on her, where she lounges in her chair like she’s in-fucking-vincible. Standing over her, I practically spit in her face. “Tell me where the fuck she is!”
Malice glints in her hazel eyes, which are so similar to mine and yet nothing alike, as she gracefully rises to her feet. Leaning in, the overwhelming floral scent of her perfume threatens to choke me as she brings her poisonous lips to my ear. “You’ll never find her.”
She’s already halfway across the room before her words truly penetrate, and I whirl, yelling, “You bitch!”
Stopping, she slowly turns in her heels to face me, a victorious grin stretching her red lips. “Maybe it will teach you not to take what isn’t yours.”
“I did not take your husband,” I practically snarl. “You’re sick, twisted, vile husband raped me. He impregnated me.”
“Perhaps if you hadn’t flaunted yourself in front of him, he wouldn’t have.” I flinch at the verbal slap, my mouth dropping open in a silent O. “Flouncing around in your bikini and short skirts.” My mother’s face has contorted into one of pure hatred. “You wanted it, so stop lying to yourself.” I don’t notice the tear burning a track down my cheek until she sneers at the display of emotion. “And stop playing the sympathy card. It’s pathetic.” She runs her eyes over me, disgust curling the corners of her lips. You’d think I’d strutted in here in heels and sexy lingerie instead of a long-sleeved, high-necked top, jeans, and sneakers. “For trying to steal my husband, you can live the rest of your life knowing your daughter is chained in some basement and being passed around for the amusement of men who get off on making her scream in agony.”
More tears chase the first one down my face, and my throat closes over as I bring a hand to my mouth.
Knowing she’s won, my mother smirks before striding off with a swing of her hips. No sooner has she left the room than Logan appears. I don’t know how she didn’t see him in the foyer, but I don’t question it as my knees give out beneath me.
“Hey, there.” He lurches forward, catching me just in time. With a hand on the back of my head, he presses my face into his chest. “For the record, Shortcake, your mom is one heinous bitch.”
Despite the numbness taking over me, a strangled chuckle makes its way up my throat before it turns into a choking sob.
“Shh,” Logan soothes, stroking my hair. “Nothing she said is true. She’s a hateful, spiteful woman who gets off on seeing you being cut out at the knees. Don’t give her the satisfaction.”
“But what if she’s right about Aurora?” I hiccup.
“She’s not,” he states with conviction. “Whatever she’s done with her, we’ll find her. You know none of us will give up until we do.”
“Except it’s been nearly two full weeks, and we have no leads.” My heart is an anvil in my chest, dragging me down.
“Don’t give up hope yet, Shortcake.” He maneuvers my head back so he can press his forehead to mine. “Keep fighting. We will find her.”
He waits until I give a slight nod in agreement before he pulls away, interlocking our fingers. “Let’s get the fuck out of here, and please, let’s never come back.”
“Agreed.” His cheeky grin brings a reluctant one to my own lips, and I wait until we’re safely ensconced in his car before I ask, “The Timberwolves… were you just saying that?”
His entire face brightens in pure delight. “Nope. Got the call last week.”
I smack him across the chest. “And you didn’t say anything?!” I exclaim in mock outrage.
“Baby, you’ve had so much going on. It wasn’t the right time to bring it up.” He shakes his head. “It’s still not the right time.”
“I don’t care, Logan.” Reaching over, I clasp his hand in mine and squeeze. “I don’t care what else is going on in my life, I always want to hear about what’s going on in yours. Especially when it’s good news, and this is amazing news!”
His responding smile is soft and full of so much love.
“We should celebrate!”
He shakes his head. “Shortcake, you’ve been through hell tonight. We should go home and cuddle on the sofa while we force the others to watch rom-coms.”
I grin. Okay, that does sound highly amusing.
“I will absolutely take you up on that… tomorrow night. But tonight, we need to celebrate.” He goes to protest once more, and I cut him off with the shake of my head. “There’s nothing more we can do tonight.” While somber, my voice is firm. “There’s nothing we can do for Aurora tonight. And after that dinner, I could use the distraction.”
Lips pursed into a flat line, he reluctantly agrees with me. Reaching across the console, I kiss his cheek quickly before pulling my phone out of my pocket to message the guys in our group chat that I’m relatively certain Grayson only set up because I repeatedly ignored his texts.
Did you guys know Logan got accepted into the Timberwolves?
We need to celebrate.
They make it obvious they’ve been waiting for a message from one of us by responding immediately.
Royce
No. Any ideas?
Grayson
Are you okay?
I roll my eyes at Grayson’s response and his completely ignoring what I said, even as my traitorous heart flutters at his concern.
Eh, no. I was kinda hoping you might have something,
I respond to Royce, choosing to ignore Grayson’s message.
Royce
Leave it with me. Meet us at the diner.
Grayson
Riley, answer me!
“Royce says to meet them at Leon’s,” I tell Logan, pocketing my phone without responding to Grayson. That will earn me grief from him, but a part of me enjoys the thrill of riling him—of pushing him to that edge and seeing what he’ll do when he snaps.
Like chase me through an abandoned church.
“Milkshakes!” Logan groans the word, earning a laugh from me. “I’m fucking starving.”
“Same,” I admit.
“You didn’t eat a bite of your dinner, so no wonder.”
“Hard to swallow in the presence of pure evil,” I comment.
Logan gives an undignified snort. “Sing it, sister! The few bites I managed to swallow were ash in my mouth. I can’t get over what massive piles of steaming shit yours and Grayson’s parents are. I mean, I knew, obviously. But seeing it, holy fuck.” He glances my way, the dark road and infrequent streetlights casting his face in shadow. “Did Bertram seriously try to keep you in his house against your will?”
I shudder, my throat instantly drying at the reminder. What the hell would I have done if Logan hadn’t been there? Would he even have let me leave? My gut tells me no, and that’s terrifying as fuck!
“How the fuck did he think that was going to go down? Did he seriously think he could just hold you hostage inside that house?” Logan shakes his head, his shoulders tense and hands twisting the leather of his steering wheel as he seethes.
“He must have thought he’d be able to; otherwise, he wouldn’t have tried.” I chew on the inside of my cheek, frowning out the windshield. “If he’s been sending me cards, perhaps he’s had someone keeping an eye on me. Enough to know that I’m a loner on campus. Enough to ensure that I could disappear and not be missed.”
“But not enough to know you have a boyfriend,” Logan tacks on correctly because Bertram definitely was not expecting Logan tonight.
“Or that I’m spending all my time at his son’s house.”
“Yet, he knew you weren’t staying at your apartment.” Logan frowns in thought.
“He said the landlord told him that.” I shiver. “How long do you think he’s been reporting my comings and goings to him?”
With a look of resigned disgust, Logan says my worst fears aloud, “Probably since you moved in.”
I sigh heavily, the two of us falling silent for the remainder of the journey to Leon’s diner. Only when we’ve pulled into the gravel lot, and Logan has shut off the engine does he turn to me. Leaning across the center console, he effortlessly lifts me into his arms, depositing me in his lap so I’m straddling him.
My gaze latches onto his, and I can feel the rapid thump of his heart beneath my palm, the warmth of his chest seeping into my skin. Through the small amount of light seeping in from a distant streetlamp and the glow from the diner, I can see the tension in his clenched jaw, the muscle ticking just beneath the surface. His eyes are intense, almost glowing in the darkness. There's a storm of emotions there—anger, frustration, but most of all, a fierce, unyielding need to protect me.
His arms are wrapped around me, holding me close as if he's afraid I'll disappear if he loosens his grip even a little. The silence between us is heavy, charged with everything we’ve been through and all that’s still to come.
“You would absolutely be fucking missed, Shortcake.” There’s so much pain in those words. A desperate need for me to believe them. “Not just by me—by us. You know Tara would tear the world apart to find you if you just disappeared on her. That woman is utterly terrifying.” Sniffling a little at the sentimental moment, I chuckle. “And Ava cares about you too. I don’t believe she’d just sit back and do nothing if you disappeared, either.” His hands climb my body until he cups my face. “However, the point is that you will not be disappearing. None of us will let Bertram get his hands on you. I won’t let anything happen to you.” That last part is said in a whisper, his voice rough and full of conviction.
I reach up and gently trace the lines of his face, trying to soothe the tempest within him. His gaze softens slightly at my touch, but the underlying determination remains. He presses his forehead against mine, his breath warm on my skin.
“I love you,” he vows. “You’re everything I ever wanted and never thought I’d find. You are my breath, my blood, my life. One day, we’re going to get married. The four of us will raise Aurora together, along with her future siblings.” A mischievous twinkle enters his eyes. “We’re going to have a happy, beautiful life.”
The conviction behind his words leaves no room for argument. Nor do I want to argue. I want everything he’s saying—even the parts I have yet to fully accept.
I bring my lips to his, and he tightens his arms around me. In the cab of his SUV, Logan is my fortress, my shield against the world. And though the night is filled with uncertainties, I feel a flicker of hope. We might be in the middle of nowhere, but with him, I’ll never be lost.
We break apart at the bright glare of headlights slicing through the cab before Royce’s truck pulls into the space beside us. It hasn’t even fully stopped before Grayson jumps out, practically ripping Logan’s door from its hinges as he flings it open.
“My car never did anything to you,” Logan grouses. “There’s no need to be such a caveman.”
Grayson doesn’t acknowledge him as, eyes glowing in the low light, his gaze rakes over me. “You’re okay.”
The sheer relief in his voice makes me feel bad for not answering his question, especially given his earlier confession. His hand stretches out for me before pausing, his fingers twitching with the need to touch me before he reluctantly withdraws.
An awkward silence fills the space between us, and swallowing, I assure him, “I’m okay.” My voice sounds small in the cab. Or perhaps it’s Grayson’s tension suppressing the volume and making everything muted. That’s the thing about Grayson. One minute, he’s all growly and mine and invading my personal space, and the next, it’s like he’s afraid to touch me. It’s almost like he’s two people and can’t decide which version of himself to be from one minute to the next.
It doesn’t help that there are still unresolved emotions from our implosion in the classroom when I held a plastic knife to his throat while I fucked him and he confessed.
“Your confidence in my ability to keep our girl safe is insulting,” Logan gripes, rolling his eyes to show he’s teasing as he helps me out of the SUV. Grayson is forced to step aside, and Royce immediately envelops me in his arms.
“I’m okay,” I assure him.
The relaxing of his posture gives away his relief, even as he murmurs for only me to hear, “I never doubted you wouldn’t be. Doesn’t mean I liked letting you go in there without me.”
“I know.” I give him a brief smile. I knew he struggled with the idea as much as Grayson did. The difference is, where Grayson would readily wrap me up in bubble wrap and ensure I never needed to leave the house, Royce understands there are things I have to do, even if none of us likes them. He respects my decisions enough to support me, even if he wishes he didn’t have to.
“I want all the details,” he says, louder this time so the others hear.
“And we’ll tell you, but this is a celebration.” Despite the tiredness tugging at my limbs, I turn in Royce’s hold to grin at Logan.
Grayson smacks him lightly on the shoulder. “How could you not tell us you got a spot on the Timberwolves?”
Logan shrugs a shoulder, but he grins smugly—and he fucking deserves to! “There’s been a lot going on.”
“There’s never too much going on,” I tell him, extracting myself from Royce. He instantly opens his arms for a hug. “This is a big deal. We want to hear about your successes, regardless of whatever else is happening.”
“She’s right, man.” Royce’s heat envelops my back as he claps Logan on the shoulder. “Congrats. I think this deserves burgers and milkshakes.”
“Thank god! I could literally eat all of you right now,” Logan groans as we move as one toward the diner. “Safe to say, dinner was a disaster. Neither of us ate anything.”
The broken bell hangs listlessly above our heads as Grayson pushes open the door to the diner, and I’m instantly hit with the smell of fried food and burned coffee. A few tables are occupied, and a couple of guys sit on stools at the counter. A few people look our way as we enter, but for the most part, we’re ignored as Grayson leads us to an empty booth at the far end of the retro-fitted diner along the window overlooking the parking lot.
He slides into the booth as Logan gestures for me to sit opposite him, claiming the seat beside me as Royce sits beside Grayson. After glancing briefly out the window, I focus on the menu in front of me. Despite not having eaten anything at dinner, I’m not hungry. Couldn’t actually tell you the last time I had an appetite. Still, I know the guys won’t let me get away with not ordering anything.
Spotting a grilled cheese sandwich on the menu, I settle on that.
“What can I get ya’s?” the waitress asks when she approaches our table.
“Milkshakes all round,” Logan declares before anyone else can speak. “Oh, and fries for dunking.”
Grayson’s face scrunches while Royce groans, “Seriously, man?”
“What? Everyone knows milkshakes are a cure-all. Plus, only a heathen would order a milkshake without fries.”
They both shake their heads, more than used to Logan’s antics, before everyone orders their actual meals.
“It was twisted as fuck,” Logan continues once the waitress is out of earshot.
“He was surprised to see you?” Royce asks.
“Oh yeah.” Logan chortles. “He was not happy at all . Tried to get me to leave until Riley made it clear she would be leaving with me.” He pauses as our milkshakes and drinks are delivered, waiting until we’re alone again before continuing. “Her mom wasn’t even ready when we went inside. If I hadn’t been there, she would have been left alone with that sicko.” He practically rips the paper cover off the top of his straw in his agitation. “Then, when she finally did show up, she was like a granny on the prowl. It was twisted as fuck. Serious MINWF vibes.”
“MINWF?” Grayson repeats. I’m glad I’m not the only one confused.
“Mother I Never Want to Fuck,” Logan clarifies in a duh tone. “Or more accurately, but it’s got too many words for a good acronym , ‘Mother I’d Rather Scratch My Own Eyes Out Than Fuck’.”
Despite the situation, I snort into my drink.
“I warned you she’d probably hit on you,” Royce points out. “Although I didn’t think she’d do it in front of Riley or Bertram.”
“Yeah, it was some weird ass shit.” Logan fake—or maybe not so fake—shivers. “I need a shower just from the greasy feel of her eyes on me. Seriously, man, you deserve props for letting her touch you. You must have an iron-clad gag reflex.”
“What do you mean she touched you?” My shocked gaze jumps between Logan and Royce, certain I must have misunderstood.
Sighing, Royce levels Logan with a thanks man glower, to which Logan simply shrugs a sorry before Royce focuses on me.
“After we found your mom’s post on Craigslist, I met her to find out what she was up to.” As he says it, I vaguely recall them explaining this to me when they got home that night…
Understandably, the details of what they’d done were forgotten amongst everything else.
“And that involved her touching you?”
What am I saying? This is my mother, and I mean, look at Royce… Of course, she hit on him. Imagining it, a wave of nausea hits me, and I close my eyes. Of course, that makes the images sharper, and I quickly snap them open as I stare into Royce’s suddenly pale face.
“I didn’t want her to, Babydoll.” He shudders in disgust at the reminder, showing exactly how much he didn’t want Lydia touching him, and anger ignites at the thought of my mom draping herself over him against his will. My nostrils flare, and my eyes harden. I have half a mind to drive back to her house and snap her fingers one by one so she can’t touch any of my men or anyone else ever again.
“James.” Royce tries to get my attention. “As hot as this murderous look is, I’d readily endure it all again. We never would have had a chance of getting Aurora if I hadn’t.”
“We would never have known what happened to her,” Grayson adds softly.
“Doesn’t mean I like it,” I reluctantly grumble, focusing on those steel-blue eyes boring into mine as though asking for forgiveness. Except there’s nothing to forgive. “You should never have had to put yourself in that position,” I tell him. Hating that he had to while simultaneously loving him all the more for it.
“There isn’t a situation I wouldn’t put myself in for you—for Aurora.”
I have the overwhelming urge to climb into his lap, but I settle for sliding my foot from my sneaker and stretching it toward his under the table. Grasping it, he squeezes my calf before tucking my foot beneath his thigh. His hand remains on the exposed skin of my ankle as he draws soothing patterns with his finger.
He maintains eye contact with me the entire time, and it’s like everything around us falls away. We’re the only ones in the booth. In the diner.
I love you , I mouth.
I’ve never said the words aloud to him before, and now isn’t the time, but I need him to know how I feel. Need him to know I appreciate everything he has done and will undoubtedly do for me more than words can ever describe.
The corners of his lips hitch up in a faint smile, his finger outlining a heart on my ankle as the worry bleeds from his posture.
The waitress chooses that moment to return with our meals. As soon as his plate is set in front of him, Logan dives into his burger. I guess he wasn’t exaggerating when he said he was starving.
We lapse into silence while we eat. Royce keeps one hand on my ankle while I nibble on my grilled cheese sandwich. I make a solid attempt at eating half of it before pushing the rest away and ignoring Grayson’s disapproving frown.
“You need to eat.”
My eyes flick to Grayson’s narrowed ones before dropping to the table when he pushes my plate back in front of me.
“I did. Now I’m full.” I push the plate away. A gain.
“You’re not eating enough,” he grouses.
“Since when did you become a nutritionist?” I snap.
He growls in frustration. “Don’t think none of us have noticed how you only eat a few bites at every meal.”
“Yeah, well, I’m not exactly hungry.”
“I don’t care if you’re not hungry. You need to eat!”
My hand smacks the top of the table. “Dammit, Grayson. I’m not hungry! How many times do I have to say it before the words penetrate your thick skull?”
As some sort of peace offering, Logan pushes my untouched milkshake in front of me. “How about you sip on this instead? Then you can share some celebratory dessert with me after.”
Loosening a breath, I reluctantly agree and take an acquiescent pull on my straw. The sweetness of strawberries floods my mouth. Damn, there is no denying that milkshake is gooood.
Grayson throws his hands up in exasperation, and I hear him grumbling under his breath about how sugar isn’t food. Still, we all promptly ignore him, and thankfully, Royce redirects the conversation by saying, “Lydia making googly eyes at Logan can’t have been the highlight of dinner…”
“Ha,” Logan barks humorlessly. “That was the warm-up act. Your father followed it up by basically dictating that Riley move in with them.”
“ What? !” Grayson roars before glancing at the tables around us and lowering his voice. “He did what?! ”
“How did he think that would go over?” Royce adds, his brows creased in thought.
“I’m pretty sure he thought he was just going to lay down the law, and Riley would oblige,” Logan practically snarls. “He went on and on about how she was fucking unstable and attention-seeking. He’s fucking lucky I didn’t stab him with my fork.”
Cheeks heated, my gaze drops to the table, feeling just as embarrassed as I had when Bertram said all that shit at the dinner table. With the exception of being attention-seeking, nothing else he said was a lie. But hearing him say it all in that fake-as-fuck sympathetic tone made me feel like I was that fractured fifteen-year-old again.
Every word out of his mouth had been a slice of a blade to my skin, cutting me open. Flaying me until I couldn’t find the strength to stand up for myself.
If it hadn’t been for Logan…
God, I can’t even bear to imagine.
“Hey.” Smooth fingers that don’t belong to my husky or my bad boy fighter wrap gently around my chin, lifting my face until I’m staring into dark brown eyes that leave me feeling like I’m falling into the depths of a warm, endless night. For the first time, I notice subtle flecks of gold and amber buried deep, like the last embers of a dying fire inviting me closer.
Grayson’s fingers stroke tenderly over the angle of my jaw. “Don’t let him get in your head. It’s what he wants. To control you. To break you down piece by piece until you no longer recognize yourself.”
I latch onto his bolstering words, letting them push out the insidious voice of his father, whispering that I’m damaged. Staring into his eyes is like falling head-first into a pool of melted chocolate: Deep and inviting, and in their warmth, I find the strength to silence the tormenting echoes of my past.
“I’m no longer that little girl,” I say aloud in a small yet steady voice.
“No, you’re not,” Grayson agrees, his tone a blend of strength and tenderness. “You’ve transformed your pain into power, your trauma into resilience. You’ve become this incredible, strong woman who stands tall despite everything that tried to break you.”
He pauses, his gaze unwavering, allowing his words to sink in. “You’re a testament to what it means to rise above, to overcome. Your strength isn’t just in surviving; it’s in thriving, in becoming the woman you are today. Don’t let anyone, especially him, make you forget that.”
His words wash over me, along with Royce’s affectionate touches and Logan’s steadying warmth, filling the cracks in my armor with renewed strength until I don’t need Grayson to hold my head high anymore.
The instant I sit straight in my chair, Logan pulls me onto his lap and kisses my temple. Somehow, Royce manages to keep a hold of my foot and shifts it to rest on his thigh as he continues his ministrations, and I melt into their comfort as I rest my head on Logan’s chest.
“Bertram has been speaking with her advisor and landlord,” Logan informs them. “He knew her grades had dropped this semester and that she hadn’t been staying at her apartment.”
“Shit,” Grayson curses. “I should have expected him to do that. It’s just like him to stick his nose where it doesn’t belong.”
“I told him she’s been staying with me, but we suspect he might have someone watching her. Not all the time, but enough…”
“I mean, we knew he had to have eyes on her with the cards he’s been sending. How else would he have known Riley had started at Halston unless Lydia told him?”
I shake my head. “I don’t think she did. I just… I can’t see her giving him any information about me that she doesn’t have to. It’s clear that whatever the reasons for their marriage, she wants him, and she views me as an obstacle standing in her way.” My heart clenches as her hate-filled words try to tear me apart.
For trying to steal my husband, you can live the rest of your life knowing your daughter is chained in some basement and being passed around for the amusement of men who get off on making her scream in agony.
Who the hell says that to their daughter? What sort of person sells their grandchild, then holds it over their daughter’s head? I always knew Lydia was a self-involved bitch, but this is on a whole other level. She truly hates me. Hell, hate isn’t a strong enough word for the pure malice she leveled at me.
Loathes.
Detests.
Abhors.
Words all more befitting.
“Then we need to be on our guard.” Grayson’s tone is severe. “Whoever has been watching Riley might have been watching us too. And if they haven’t, they’ll be on the lookout.” Focusing on Logan, he says, “I’m sure my dad will be digging up everything he can find on you.”
Logan shrugs easily. “I figured he would. Let him look; there’s nothing for him to find. Another reason why it was better for me to go tonight instead of Royce.”
My eyes go wide, and I sit up straighter as I realize going in Logan’s place tonight would have put Royce in the firing line—where Bertram would have found out about the fake rape accusation. I hadn’t even considered that he’d go digging for dirt on any of them.
“Shit, Royce. You have to stay out of his line of sight. He can’t know you’re involved in any of this.”
“Sweetheart, he’s going to put it together sooner or later. I agree, it’s better not to hand him the ammunition by walking in his front door, but sooner or later, he’ll realize Logan lives with his son and that you’ve been staying at our house. Even if I’m simply the roommate in his eyes, it’ll be enough.”
My stomach sinks as I scramble to think of a way to protect him, the way he’s always protecting me.
“What if I go back to staying in the apartment? Logan can visit me there, and we can just… I don’t know. See each other on campus?” I wince, hating the idea even as the words leave my mouth.
The corner of Royce’s eyes soften with affection. “Not happening, James. You can go back to staying in your apartment if that’s what you want, but there’s no way I’m letting Logan steal all your nights.”
“She’s not going back to her apartment,” Grayson all but growls, ruining the tender moment. “Even with the security cameras, I don’t trust my dad. Not if he’s paying off the landlord. He could have gotten a key to her place or anything.”
Fuck .
I shiver at the notion, not having considered that. At least Grayson’s cameras have been in place since before his release, so we know he hasn’t been inside the apartment, but Grayson is right. He could have a key and is just waiting for me to be home alone. Fuck that!
Grayson pins me in place with a look that clearly shows he expects me to argue, but for once, I hold my hands up in surrender. “You’ll hear no argument from me. Now that we know his intentions, I have no plans on making it easy for him to lock me inside his house.”
A war plays out on Grayson’s face before he finally settles on a self-satisfied smirk. “See, it’s not so difficult to comply with me. Perhaps you’ll be more inclined to do so in the future.”
I snort. “Don’t hold your breath.” Bringing my finger to my lips in contemplation, my eyes widen. “Or maybe you should. Save us all the two dozen headaches you’re bound to give us in the future.”
Our typical back and forth is enough to break the heaviness that had descended over the table. “Burn!” Logan jests, cackling like an idiot and holding his hand up for a high-five while Grayson huffs in annoyance, and Royce smothers a smile behind his hand. “Enough of this depressing talk. Did someone say something about celebrating?”
Dropping his hand, there’s a genuine smile on Royce’s face and a glint in his eyes that promises trouble—hopefully not the violent kind—as he sets a handful of bills on the table and slides out of the booth. “If you’ll all follow me, we’ll get the celebrations underway.”