40. Riley
40
RILEY
D espite spending the past two days resting and recovering, I’m exhausted as I climb the stairs to bed. Grayson had offered to put Aurora to bed while Royce and I snuggled on the sofa—okay, I was totally sleeping and drooling on his shoulder—and Logan is out with the team. I practically had to kick him out the door, but if the team is going to make it to the championships, then they need their captain to be present. Now that we have Aurora back safely, there’s no excuse for him not to give hockey and the team his all.
Yawning, I mumble goodnight to Royce outside his bedroom, only pausing briefly to glance up to Grayson’s floor before crossing the hall. He never reappeared after tucking Aurora in, so I assume he went to his own room afterward. Easing open my bedroom door, I slip inside. The only light is the soft pink hue of the mushroom nightlight Logan purchased.
On silent feet, I pad toward the lump on the bed, expecting to find my daughter starfished on her stomach and sound asleep. Except I pause at the bedside as I take in the sight before me. Yes, my daughter is passed out, sprawled out across the entire bed. However, a sleeping Grayson is beside her, perched on the very edge, with one leg hanging off the bed and his foot planted on the floor to stop him from face-planting the carpet. A book is propped open on his chest as though he fell asleep while reading, and one hand is outstretched toward Aurora as if, even in his sleep, he needed to assure himself that she was still here.
For several moments, I simply drink in the scene before me. It’s still all so surreal, seeing the two of them getting along. There were nights when I’d watch Aurora sleep and wonder what it would be like if Grayson knew of her existence. Knew he had a sister out there in the world. But even in my wildest imagination, I could never picture this.
On the balls of my feet, I tip-toe across the room and lift the book from Grayson’s chest before setting it on the bedside table. He’s lying on top of the duvet, so I grab a blanket from the bottom of the bed and drape it over him, pressing a chaste kiss to his cheek. He stirs but doesn’t wake, and when he rolls further onto his side toward Aurora, I bite back a smile before creeping out of the room and silently closing the door behind me before slipping into Royce’s room.
“Do you mind if I sleep with you tonight? Grayson passed out in my bed.”
“You know you never have to ask,” Royce says with a soft smile, pulling back his bedsheet. My eyes rake over the sight of him, bare-chested and with tattoos on display, as he sits up in bed, back resting against the headboard and a drawing pad on his lap.
“What are you drawing?” I ask as I strip out of my clothes and pull a discarded t-shirt of his over my head before climbing in beside him. He tilts the sketchpad my way, and I suck in a gasp. “Was this yesterday?” I ask, and he nods. He’s drawn all of us at the breakfast table, Aurora in Logan’s lap as the two munch on a humongous stack of pancakes. My more modest stack has been forgotten as I watch them with a smile on my face. However, it’s the slight smile on Grayson’s lips that captures my attention… it looks so similar to mine—filled with warmth and awe.
That tiny little smile transforms his entire face.
It reminds me of the teenage Grayson for whom I fell head over heels.
“Royce, is this… real?”
He huffs a small breath beside me, moving closer so I can feel his answer against my skin. “I wanted to draw it when I saw your expression, but when I noticed Grayson’s, I knew I had to capture the moment. I wanted you to see how he looks at that little girl.” He nudges me with his nose. “He’s in love with her. Who knew all it would take was a three-year-old to demolish the last remnants of those walls.”
Yeah, who knew?
Grayson was the one I’d been most anxious about getting along with Aurora. I knew Logan wouldn’t be an issue. He’s basically a giant child himself. While quiet and stony-faced, Royce has a heart of gold that I knew would melt once he spent some time with her. But Grayson? He’s a hard nut to crack—believe me, it’s taken a long time for me to break through that tough exterior. However, all I had to do was see how he looks at Aurora, interacts with her, and any hesitation, any fear I once harbored, went up in smoke.
“It’s a superpower,” I mumble absently, unable to look away from Royce’s sketch. “Can I have this when you’re done?” When he doesn’t answer, I look up at him. “It deserves to be framed—put on the wall. I’m thinking in the kitchen?”
I’m not sure if I’m crossing a line or pushing him too far, but when he gives me a soft smile, it fills me with hope. He presses his lips to mine in a soft kiss. “Hang it wherever you want, Ry. This house is as much yours as it is ours. Make it your home.”
I smile into his kiss. “Can I ask you a question?”
“You can ask me anything, James.”
“Why do you not show others your sketches? They’re so good, Royce. Your talent deserves to be appreciated by the world.”
His smile is soft and endearing, his gaze flooded with love as he lifts a shoulder in a casual shrug. “I draw for me. Not for the world or money or any of that.”
“So you’d never consider selling any of your drawings? There’s this cafe in Halston that Logan took me to once. It has artwork from local artists on the wall that customers can buy.”
“Never say never, but I’m happy just drawing for me for now.” He nudges my shoulder. “And for you.”
I grin up at him. “You best accept now that I’m going to want to cover every square inch of wall space with your drawings.”
He chuckles, shaking his head at my teasing.
Wriggling my toes under his calf, my head falls to rest against his headboard, and I watch on silently while he draws and shades. Watching him is like watching magic happen. How he’s able to bring the drawing to life… it’s incredible.
“Please tell me you plan on doing something that involves drawing once you graduate. It would be a travesty not to.”
His eyebrows hitch. “A travesty, huh?”
“Yup. A literal travesty. ”
“I mean, my degree is in architecture. There’s drawing in that.”
“Wow, sound less enthusiastic. Please. You’re blowing my mind with your excitement. AHH!” I squeal as he dives in, his fingers tickling me.
“Someone’s feeling bratty tonight.”
“Royce!” I squeal, his name coming out breathless as I writhe and wriggle in a bid to escape him.
I’ve slipped down the bed by the time he relents, and I swat at him while pushing my hair out of my face. He smirks down at me, but his stare shows a hesitant vulnerability.
“I have been working on something…”
My eyes widen as I scour his face. “Will you show me?”
He pauses before nodding and climbing off the bed. Wearing only his boxers that cling to his tight ass and thick thighs, he saunters over to his desk and lifts a larger sketchpad before coming back to me.
Perching on the edge of the bed, he hands it over to me, and I meet his gaze before dropping it to the pad of paper. With careful movements, I open it, a gasp falling from my lips as I take in the various frames filled with colorful characters.
A slow grin splits my face. “Is this… a children’s book?” I question, awed as I flip to the next page, then the next. “Royce.” His name is said with raw reverence. I can’t tear my attention from the sketchpad as I take it all in. “This is… incredible.”
“Yeah? You think so?”
“Are you joking?” I exclaim, whipping my head to gape at him. “I know so. You should submit to whoever you submit children’s books to. No, you need to. I mean it, Royce. If you don’t do it, I will do it for you because this is insane .”
He’s chuckling now, his initial hesitation having melted into relief. “That’s actually what I was thinking of doing. It’s not finished yet, but once it is.”
I nod, gaze falling back to the page as I go back to the beginning before patting the empty spot in the bed beside me. “Sit with me. I want you to read this to me. Tell me what the story’s about.”
Huffing a laugh, he does as I ordered, and we snuggle up on his bed together as he begins, “Well, it’s about a little girl who gets lost and is trying to find her way home…” and I fall even more in love with this passionate, creative man.