24. Riley
24
RILEY
T he next day, I go to Ava’s dance studio. I feel bad that, bar the odd text, we’ve barely talked, and honestly, I need to dance out this maelstrom of emotion threatening to swallow me whole. Between discovering Bertram has had my daughter this entire time and the fact my own mother tried to have me killed, it’s safe to say that my head is a mess.
Grayson’s acknowledgment that Aurora is too young for Bertram is the only thing getting me through. I was fifteen when we moved into his house. Even if his preferences went a bit younger… Three is too young! That’s what I’ll keep believing until the universe tells me otherwise.
I can’t sit around that house while we wait for a call from Dax or his men to round up Lydia, and I’m incapable of focusing on my studies right now. Dancing has always been my escape, my sanctuary. The world could crumble around me, but in those moments when my body moves to the rhythm, I find solace. Today, I need that solace.
Unfortunately, I’m apparently unable to obtain it alone.
“After you,” Grayson grunts as he pulls open the door to the dance studio and gestures for me to go in. He volunteered as tribute when I said I was coming here. Unfortunately, Logan has hockey practice, and Royce said he was going to The Depot to discuss plans to kidnap my mother—isn’t it funny how fate works itself out?—with Dax and his team.
Meanwhile, Grayson has been hovering like a mother hen since I was released from the hospital, despite me telling him—and the other two—that I’m perfectly fine. Pissed off and a little shaken up, but fine. I could tell he didn’t even want me coming here today, but for what must be the first time in his life, he learned how to keep quiet when I sent him a cutting glare after informing him and Royce what my plans were for the day.
“You can stay in here,” I tell him as I drop my bag inside the door of the empty studio.
“Why? Where are you going?”
I point up the stairs to where Ava’s office is. “To talk to Ava.”
“Then I’ll come with you.”
Before he can step forward, I plant a hand on his chest. “No. You won’t. Ava is my friend , and I need to talk to her alone.”
The angle of his jaw pulses, and I fold my lips between my teeth to suppress my laugh at seeing him so easily riled. I definitely get a kick out of it.
“You’re not supposed to be alone.”
“Good thing I won’t be alone, then.”
“Riley.” He growls my name between clenched teeth.
“Grayson.” I pin him with a look. “That’s how this works: compromise. Do you understand that word? Does it exist in your dictionary?” I flick my finger back and forth between us. “There has to be both give and take between us if this is ever going to work.”
He seems to somehow grow in size as he inhales before slowly letting it all out, including his frustration. “You’re right.”
I’m… what?
“I’m sorry. I must have misheard you. Can you repeat that?”
“You’re right,” he says again, this time with a dramatic roll of his eyes.
“I’m sorry.” I fish in the pocket of my oversized hoodie for my phone. “One more time for the camera.”
He snatches it from me before I can record anything. “Don’t be a brat.”
Instead, I grin at him. “Now, where would the fun in that be?”
“Are you going or what?” he huffs.
I raise my hands in a fake show of surrender. “I’m going, I’m going.” Ducking out of the room, I climb the stairs to the first floor where Ava’s office is located, along with some storage space and a smaller studio she hasn’t had the chance to fit out yet.
Tapping my knuckles against the door, I wait for her to call out before ducking my head in. “Hey, you got a moment?”
“Riley!” She’s already waving me into the room as she moves out from behind her desk. The second I’m through the door, she pulls me in for a hug. “I’ve been worried about you.”
“How’s Izzy?” I deflect before she can ask me anything about the shitstorm that is my life.
The look Ava gives me says she knows exactly what I’m doing before she moves to sit on the narrow sofa stuffed into one corner of her small office. It’s intended for Isabella to have somewhere to sit and work while she’s here, but we’ve had a number of in-depth conversations here before and after a session in the studio.
“She’s good. She’s absolutely loving Hot Shot Huskies, although I’ve noticed a certain hockey player has been MIA recently.” I can tell from the bumping of her eyebrows that she’s teasing. “Is that the friend you’ve been staying with?”
“Yeah. Him, Royce, and Grayson.”
“That sounds… cozy.” I give her a weak smile, fiddling with the strings of my hoodie. Noticing, Ava tilts her head, watching me. “You wanna talk about it?”
“Not really,” I admit, grateful when she accepts that answer without question. “There is something I do need to tell you, though. I, uh, have a daughter. She’s three—well, nearly four now. She’s been… She, erm, doesn’t live with me at the minute, and honestly, it’s been hard being away from her, which is why I never said anything, but I’m, uh, trying to get her back, and well, I thought you should know.”
It all comes out as a rambling mess, but somehow, Ava manages to piece her way through it. By the time I’m done, her eyebrows practically hit her hairline as she gapes at me.
“That’s… a lot.” Leaning forward, she rests her hand on my knee. “I’m so sorry you’re going through all of that. While I don’t know exactly what you’re going through—and I don’t need to—I know I’d be a mess if Izzy’s dad decided to fight for custody.” Her other hand claps her chest, over her heart. “Not seeing her every day would kill me.”
“Yeah,” I agree. “That’s what it feels like.”
“Oh, Ry, I’m so sorry!” She’s hugging me a moment later, and it feels as though a weight has been lifted off my chest. Even though I haven’t shared half of what’s actually going on, just sharing my daughter’s existence with someone who has become a friend feels freeing.
“Anyway,” I say, sniffling. “I thought I’d come to work out some of those feelings in the dance studio, if that’s alright with you?”
“Absolutely! I have a class in an hour, but the studio is all yours until then.”
She’s already ushering me out the door, and I call a thank you before descending the stairs, feeling a million times lighter than I did when I arrived.
Standing in a simple black leotard and flowing, sheer skirt that sways with my every move, I can feel Grayson’s eyes on me. Leg warmers hug my calves, while ballet slippers allow my feet to glide effortlessly across the floor.
The opening notes of Elastic Heart by Sia reverberate through the air and infuse my skin before I gracefully extend my arms, letting the music guide me.
My movements are fluid yet purposeful, each a cathartic release as I glide across the floor. The fabric of my skirt flows around me as I execute a pirouette. My body spins as if trying to shed the confusion and betrayal that cling to me. As devastating as it is knowing Aurora is trapped with Bertram, at least I understand his actions. However, my mother—the woman who should have protected me—tried to end my life. It’s a fact I won’t ever wrap my mind around, and the thought alone makes my heart ache. Yet here, in this moment, I can face it.
Still, the reality of her actions leaves me reeling, struggling to comprehend how any mother could harbor such malice toward her own child. I leap into the air, my legs splitting in a grand jeté , feeling the freedom in the height and the fall, the temporary escape from the weight of reality. Landing softly, I transition into a series of graceful arabesques, my arms reaching out as if trying to touch the peace I find elusive.
I feel the conflict within me, the love and hate intertwined. My mother’s selfishness, her narcissism, is a poison I’ve been desperate to purge for years. I spin again, faster this time, my arms wrapping around myself, a shield against the world. How could she? The woman who gave me life trying to take it away? Knowing she actually went out of her way to end my life—it’s a bitter pill to swallow.
Abandoning ballet’s rigidity, I let my body fall into a series of controlled rolls and spirals, embracing chaos. Each movement is a conversation with my pain, my anger, and my grief.
My steps become more frantic, reflecting the turmoil inside. I slide into a deep lunge, my fingers brushing the floor, grounding me, reminding me that I’m still here, still fighting.
As I dance, the bracelet on my wrist—a string of pink and white beads spelling out my name—jingles softly, a comforting reminder of why I’m here, of who I’m fighting for. Bertram having Aurora is where my focus needs to be, and to face the battle ahead, I need to expunge my mother from my life and my soul once and for all.
My feet pound the floor in rhythm with my heartbeat as the song builds. I let my emotions pour into my movements, my body a conduit for everything I feel. I perform a series of turns, my arms lifting me into a fouetté en tournant . Each spin is a testament to my resilience and refusal to be defeated.
Stretching upwards, my body elongates in a perfect arabesque penchée , reaching for hope, for the light at the end of this dark tunnel. The bracelet remains my anchor, a symbol of the past and the strength it gives me to face the present.
Finally, the music begins to fade, and I slow, my breathing heavy and my body glistening with sweat. My eyes fall closed as I move into an elegant arabesque. I hold that final pose, my chest heaving, my body glistening with sweat, and slowly let my leg down, grounding myself back into reality. My eyes are closed, the echo of the music still reverberating in my soul. I feel the room around me, the weight of my emotions now lighter, the burden somewhat lifted.
When I finally open my eyes, Grayson is standing right in front of me so close I can feel his presence and warmth. His expression is one of awe, admiration, and something more profound—something that makes my heart skip a beat.
This is the first time he’s seen me dance like this—seen me so vulnerable, so open. I can see in his eyes that he understands the significance—that he’s witnessed a private part of my soul. And in that moment, I see a reflection of his openness, a mirror to my own rawness.
His eyes are soft, filled with tender emotion. He looks at me as if he’s seeing me for the first time, truly seeing me, and my breath catches. There’s a depth in his gaze, a silent promise, a recognition of our shared past and pain.
“I’ve never seen anything so beautiful.”
His words are simple, but they hold so much weight. He’s seen me at my most exposed, and instead of retreating, he’s stepping closer, showing me his own vulnerability. The love in his eyes is unmistakable, a silent confession that tugs at my heartstrings.
In the next moment, his lips are on mine, my head craning back as we collide in a vortex of inevitability. He walks me backward, and I gasp as my back connects with the mirror’s cold surface.
He takes advantage of the opening to slide his tongue between my teeth, entwining it around mine and sucking until I’m putty in his hands. My hands clamp his face, dragging him impossibly closer until I can feel him everywhere.
His hand comes up to cover mine, but when his fingers nudge my bracelet, he breaks the kiss, turning slightly to investigate. With his hand covering mine, he pulls it away from his face for a better look. I hear the gasp fall from his lips as he brings my wrist closer, turning it this way and that to further inspect the bracelet.
“How do you still have this?” The question is asked in an awed murmur, Grayson seemingly unable to wrench his eyes from the bracelet… from the reminder of our past.
“Why would I get rid of it? You bought it for me.”
Finally, he looks up, eyes meeting mine. “I made it for you.”
Oh my god. No, he didn’t!
“Purchased one of those bead kits online and strung it all together.”
Well, damn.
“Why?” I search those dark, unyielding orbs. “Why would you go to all that effort for a girl you hardly knew?”
With his free hand, he reaches out, his fingers brushing my cheek and sending shivers down my spine. “Because I knew enough to know I wanted you to feel special.”
Which is exactly what he achieved with this gift. I did feel special.
“I gave it to Aurora,” I tell him. “Before I left for college. But it’s too big for her wrist, so she keeps it in a shoebox. Royce found it amongst the items he rescued from Lydia’s and returned it.”
Gaze still resting on my face, he asks, “So you’re keeping it safe?”
“It’s giving me hope,” I counter.
We’re standing so close. There is not an inch of space between us. I slide the hand he’s not holding captive up his chest until it comes to rest over the erratic thumping of his heart.
“I don’t know what to do with you,” I confess.
For some reason, that makes him smile. Leaning in, he nips teasingly at my lips. “Most of the time, I don’t know what to do with you either.” He drags his nose over the rise of my cheekbone; his next words whispered in my ear, “But I think I’m figuring it out.”
“Oh?” My voice is shaky, breath uneven.
“Love you.”
He says it so simply that his lips are already on mine by the time my brain has caught up to the words. Somehow, my leg ends up hitched over his hip, and I’m grinding shamelessly against him when a throat clears, and we practically jump apart.
Face blooming, I peer around Grayson’s large frame, meeting Ava’s amused eyes. “Sorry to interrupt. I just wanted to let you know my next class is in fifteen minutes.”
“Uh, right.” I clear my throat, looking anywhere and everywhere but at her. “Thanks. We’ll, erm, get out of your hair.”
Her tinkling laugh has my focus snapping back to her, eyes narrowed in a deathly glare. “Uh-huh. Good to know what you get up to when you’re dancing alone. ”
She’s gone before I can correct her, and instead, I bury my face in my hands, groaning. “Let’s get out of here before we traumatize any children.”
When I finally dare to glance in Grayson’s direction, he doesn’t look the least bit chagrined. In fact, the asshole is fucking smirking as he leads me out to his awaiting car.
Royce and Logan open the front door as soon as we pull up. One look at them, and I’m throwing open the car door. “What?” I demand, jogging up the front steps. Hope threatens to choke me. “Did Dax find Aurora?”
Royce’s eyes are hard, and as they connect with mine, I know we’re finally on the right track to bringing my daughter home.