The Life I Wanted
RILEY
Iwake up at six because my body still thinks it has somewhere to be.
One week with Preston, and my body was back to surviving under his rules.
For a second, I don’t know where I am. White ceiling, wrong window, and a lamp on the nightstand I picked out when I was fifteen. Then it comes back—the piano, my father’s voice, the ring bouncing once on the Sinclairs’ floor before it rolled somewhere nobody bent down to look.
I lie very still and wait for the relief to come. And when it eventually does, it’s small.
Not excitement, but regret. What I’ve lost.
Easton.
The name sits on my chest, heavily. I drag in a deep breath, and panic immediately sets in.
Preston. The video. Now that he no longer has me in his clutches, he’ll do whatever he can to prove a point. Easton. He’ll get to him. He’ll release the video.
Oh God!
I jump out of bed, desperation and confusion clawing at my chest. I find my phone, but it’s dead. I need to reach Easton. Figure a way out to get over this.
I’m still in the middle of the bedroom, trying to think of how to sort this, when a knock sounds on the door.
“Riley… honey, are you up?” It’s my mom.
I rush to the door to get it. I could use her phone. Or drive to his place… tell him before it’s too late. I yank the door open, and she’s standing there, a smile on her face.
She has two mugs in her hands, her reading glasses perched on top of her head.
“You should see your phone,” she says. “But drink this first.”
I take the coffee.
“I... it's dead. But I need to reach Easton. Warn him. Find a way...”
She lets out a soft laugh. “Come.”
She walks into the room and sits on the edge of the bed before patting the mattress beside her. “Here.”
I just stare at her.
She's in such a good mood that, for a moment, I wonder what's gotten into her. Doesn't she understand? She’s not taking this seriously at all.
“Oh, Riley. Come on, you worry too much.”
“Mom…”
“Relax, dear. It’s sorted, and Easton is fine.”
I frown. “H-he is?”
She chuckles again.
“It’s everywhere,” she says. “The engagement. Somebody at that party filmed your father. There’s a video.”
“What?” My eyes almost fall from their sockets.
“The Sinclair people are calling it a private family disagreement. Your father has already had three calls this morning, and he’s answered none of them.”
I sit down beside her, my legs suddenly feeling weak.
“And about Easton,” My mother sets her mug down. “Mason called. About twenty minutes ago.”
Something in the way she says it makes my stomach drop.
“Is he okay?” My voice drips with dread.
“He’s fine, honey. He called me because—” She stops, and starts again, more carefully. “He said he didn’t want to be the one to tell you.”
“T-tell me what?”
“He’s been watching the sports news.” A small, sad smile. “My son, who has never known which teams exist. He’s been reading about hockey for two weeks because he wanted to know what that boy was doing.”
That makes my heart squeeze.
The image of Mason, who has no regard for sports news, sitting just to read through multiple headlines, watching out for Easton simply because he found out his best friend, who’s a hockey player, has something going on with me, and he doesn’t believe it’s fake.
He’s monitoring him. Watching him for me.
My chest aches.
“Riley.” My mother takes my hand. “Easton went to his team last night. On the record, with their lawyers. About a woman named Maya, and drugs, and six months of paying her to keep the footage private.”
My heart stops. My breath catches in my throat, and I sit still, unable to process her words.
“N-no. He wouldn’t do that. I mean… he can’t. It’s risky…” I shake my head and pull my hands from hers, refusing to believe Easton would jeopardize his career like that.
“There’s a statement out from the club. Mason said it came through around six this morning.”
I don’t say anything.
“Honey?”
“He… He got ahead of it.”
“What?”
“His PR director. Diane.” My voice sounds like it’s coming from the next room. “You don’t put out a statement at six in the morning unless you’re beating someone to it. She’s making it a confession instead of an exposé.”
And it means he wasn’t caught.
“Riley, the coffee—”
I’m on the edge of the bed with my coffee tilting in my hand and my mother taking it away from me before it goes on the carpet.
He was being blackmailed the entire time.
Every single day I lived in that house. The morning I made coffee in his kitchen, and he flipped his phone face-down so fast he nearly knocked the cup over. Maya’s name on the dashboard on the way home from Valentina’s.
He carried it through all of it.
And Maya sold it to Preston.
He doesn’t know. He’s sitting somewhere right now thinking he beat Maya to it, and he has no idea Preston has a copy in a safe.
“I have to…”
I stop.
Because the next word was going to be call him, and my hand is already moving toward the nightstand.
The confession is still fresh out there. He might not have a career by the end of the week. And the last thing he has from me is a note on his kitchen counter that called what we had fake.
He’s in the middle of the worst week of his life. The last thing he needs is me there, telling him how much worse it could have been.
I wouldn’t be that person. He deserves his freedom too. A break from all of it. Just like I got away from Preston.
Maybe time to also figure out his next step, without me walking in to remind him of the past, and everything he’s about to lose.
I sit with my mom for a few minutes, and she eventually leaves with the mugs, after a warm hug.
My father knocks around ten.
I’ve dressed by then in jeans and a sweater from a drawer I hadn’t opened since I was twenty.
He’s got a box under one arm and he stands in the doorway the way he did last night, like he’s not sure yet whether he’s allowed in.
“Come in, Dad.” I offer him a small smile.
He walks in and sets the box on the bed.
I know what it is before I open it. The shape gives it away, and my throat closes.
“You came empty-handed, and I thought you’d need this to get your mind off things,” he says, watching me with careful eyes.
“So, I did some reading last night to get some info on the best camera and lighting setup you’ll need.
We have a large space at the north wing of the property.
You could set up a studio there and have a fresh start.
And if you want a different environment, we can arrange that… ”
“Dad.” Tears spring to my eyes.
I hug him for a long time.
When he’s gone, I sit on the bed with the box on my lap and my hands flat on the lid.
I don’t open it yet.
I just sit there, and a wave of sadness crashes into me.
For the first time in six years, I’m about to truly live the life I’ve dreamed, but the man who renewed my vision won’t be in it.
His life is breaking apart, and there’s nothing I can do to help him.
Maybe I should have never gotten into that car three months ago.