Chapter 22
Riley
And why?
Her voice breaks on that last word, and it’s immediately sobering. This isn’t the time for my flirty teasing.
This is it.
The moment I’ve been waiting for. The chance to finally tell her everything and let the chips fall where they may. I’ve rehearsed this conversation so many times, but now that it’s upon me, I’m struggling to find the words.
Taking a step in her direction, I’m unable to resist reaching for her.
I want—need—to touch her, to hold her hand.
I need the contact; need her to ground me while I attempt to gather my thoughts.
But she presses that hand to my chest as I near, unwilling to allow me any further into her space.
She stares at the spot where we’re connected, where my heart thrums wildly beneath her touch, then slowly drags her gaze up to mine.
I’m not sure what I expected to see there—perhaps the yearning I’m feeling reflected back at me.
Instead, those chocolate eyes, usually so filled with warmth, are cool.
The gentleness with which she shoves me back belies the frustration that is clearly mounting within her as she retreats, pacing several steps away before turning back to me and crossing her arms. Her face is a mask of determination.
“Quit stalling,” she says, no longer pleading for answers. No, she’s demanding them. “You’re the one who wanted to have this conversation. Well, I’m ready to listen now, but that window is closing fast. I can’t keep doing this back and forth with you. Seriously, what do you want from me?”
“You know what I want. I want to be us again.”
The laugh she lets out is harsh and disbelieving. I don’t like it. It’s not Steph. Did I do this to her? Make her so … jaded?
“So, what is it? Talk already. Did you— did you join a cult? Were you in some secret cabal? Witness protection? Is that it? Were you in bad with the mob?” I flinch, not just at her tone, but because she’s getting warmer.
I was a criminal. “I can’t wait to hear this.
I mean, what else could it be?” she continues. “Were you—”
“I was in prison, okay?”
Her eyes snap to mine, but I spin away from her, unable to see the shock, the disappointment there.
“I was in prison,” I say again, dejectedly, then begin to pace in the small area.
I fist my hands in my hair, my frustration now mirroring her own.
This isn’t how I wanted this to go. “Fuuuuck!” I shout, my anger rising.
Anger at myself, the situation. The mistakes I’ve made.
“Fuck,” I repeat, more softly this time. Weary.
“Oh my God,” she says under her breath, and I stop and turn, forcing myself to look at her, to see the sadness in her eyes. “Riley …” she chokes out.
All the fight has gone out of me. I drop to my knees, huge breaths heaving from my lungs.
“It’s the truth,” I gasp out, my entire body wracked with the effort to breathe.
She waits, silently watching as I work to even out my breathing.
“You know I got in with a bad crowd,” I continue. “You saw them.”
“Lucky,” she says with disdain, and I dip my chin in acknowledgement.
He was not my friend. “The team— It was just like I’d feared, only so much worse, Steph.
And I was too proud to ask for help.” I shake my head.
“The hometown hero,” I spit out, disgusted with myself, “but I couldn’t cut it on the court or in the classroom.
“A friend offered me some chemical assistance, and things just … devolved from there, I guess you could say. I was convicted for possession and distribution. When you showed up, I was awaiting sentencing and living in absolute denial.” I choke out a harsh laugh.
“I didn’t even think I had a problem. Kept telling myself I wasn’t like the rest of those lowlifes that hung with Lucky.
What a joke. And he kept telling me it was no big deal.
Said I’d get a slap on the wrist. But the judge was an alumnus and took particular offense to my dealing on campus.
He said I had harmed the team’s reputation, never mind that it was a teammate who originally offered it to me.
So I got eight years. Did four and then spent two more on parole before I was able to leave the city. ”
Steph pads silently over to where I’m kneeling and sits down beside me, cross-legged on the cold rock. “And after that?”
“Pretty much what I told you that night in the bar. I traveled around doing odd jobs. After prison, I never wanted to stay in one place too long. Lived a nomadic life for a lot of years.”
“You never thought about coming home?”
“Lots of times, but I was too ashamed. And the more time that went by, the more lies I told my family, the harder it was to imagine ever coming back.”
She reaches out and tentatively places a hand on my thigh.
“So what changed?”
I shrug. “Got tired of running. Heard my brother was getting married and realized how much I’d missed out on. Once I started thinking about returning home, the floodgates opened and …”
“And?”
“And all I could think about was you.”
She sucks in a sharp breath, moving to pull her hand away, but I grab it and interlock our fingers. Slowly, ever so slowly, she drags her gaze to mine.
“It’s always been you, Steph,” I say quietly.
“I tried to forget you—lord knows I tried—but you were always there. Just under the surface and tucked close to my heart. I have so many regrets from back then, but the biggest one will always be hurting you. I can’t say I regret pushing you away, even now, because it wouldn’t have been a life for you, with a boyfriend in prison.
I couldn’t have asked you to wait. But I do regret how I went about it.
If you believe anything, I hope you can believe that. ”
This time, when she tries to pull away, I let her, dropping her hand and climbing to my feet as she does the same.
“I don’t know,” she says, putting distance between us again.
“Don’t know if you believe me?”
She shakes her head, a single tear trailing down her cheek. “Don’t know what to do. What— what to think. This is … a lot. I just—”
“Please, Steph,” I cut her off. “Please give us another chance. We were always meant to be together, Sunshine. I know you know that. I know you feel this, too. We just … took a detour, but we’re here now.”
That sounds lame even to my own ears, but I don’t know what else to say as the panic begins to rise. I study her microexpressions as her face shuts down. I can see her detaching again, rebuilding those goddamn walls right before my eyes.
“That’s what you call it? A detour?”
I shake my head at her, unsure of how to respond. This is going totally off the rails.
“Because I’d call it a broken heart,” she continues.
“Don’t mistake my words, Steph, don’t imagine it was anything other than heartbreak for me too.”
She scoffs. “Hardly. You made a choice, Riley. You don’t get to rewrite the past now.
You didn’t just hurt me, you destroyed me.
And you did it little by little, stealing my sanity, picking away at my self-confidence, for months, before finally dealing the death blow.
When I found you in that disgusting building, you let me believe there was still a chance for us, that we could fix things.
You screwed me on a dirty mattress, then left me alone in a scary basement to go be with— with—”
She shakes her head as furious tears slide down her face. I want to kiss them away. I want to pull her into my arms and tell her it was all a bad dream. But I can’t do that.
What I can do is set the record straight.
Finally.
When she speaks again, her voice is heartbreakingly soft, and it cracks on the last word. “To go be with that woman.”
“Steph—”
“No. No. You betrayed me.”
I’m already shaking my head. “No, Steph,” I say quietly. “Never.”
Her shoulders drop, defeated. “I saw you.”
“No. I never slept with her, baby.”
She rears back at my words. “Wh— what?”
“I never slept with that woman, Steph.” I watch her face as the words land.
As she takes in what I’ve said. “She was in that room with Lucky,” I continue.
“He left right before you showed up. I only let you believe it to drive you away. So you would finally move on and forget me. I knew you wouldn’t give up on me otherwise, but I had to let you go. ”
She swipes at her tears, staring up at me through watery eyes.
I’m not sure when it happened, but we’re standing a mere foot apart now, and this time when I reach for her, she doesn’t pull away.
I tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear, then linger, running my thumb gently along her wet jaw.
She sighs, her eyes closing at my touch.
“Even when I was caught up in my own shit and being a total jackass, I never strayed. Even when I was avoiding you and high all the time. I promise you, Steph. It didn’t happen. Do you believe me?”
Steph searches my face intently, and I will her to see it—to read the truth in my expression.
“I think …” she lets out a long breath, eyes continuing to roam over my face. “Yeah. I think I do.”
“It’s always been you,” I repeat quietly.
She lets her lids fall closed once more and nods.
I bring my other hand up to frame her face, then lean in and press a soft kiss to her forehead before pulling her into a tight embrace.
She tucks her face into my chest, her shoulders dropping and arms coming around me as a sigh escapes her lips, a soft puff of breath ghosting over my collarbones.