Page 148 of Frozen Hearts
I watch as she bundles my daughter into the car seat before the car reverses out of the space and drives out of the parking lot. Even then, I continue to stand there, numb and oh so broken as the tears flow down my cheeks.
Eventually, I pull myself together enough to turn toward Royce’s truck. It’s parked directly in front of the playground, but as I look through the windshield, I don’t see him inside the cab.
Turning my head, I scan the rest of the park until I spot a lone figure sitting on a picnic table overlooking the lake. Inhaling a deep breath, I walk over and climb up beside him.
Neither of us says anything for a long time.
“She’s yours, right?” he eventually asks.
“Yeah.”
“What age is she?”
“She’s three.”
He nods knowingly.
“Grayson’s dad lied.”
“Yeah,” I sigh. “He did.”
EPILOGUE
ROYCE
My mind is a mess as, hours later, I trudge numbly through the front door of the townhouse I’ve shared with Logan and Grayson since Freshman year.
The townhouse we locked Riley up in. Where we took away her rights. Stole her voice. Forced her to bend. To compromise. To hand over one of the few parts of herself she had left.
WhereIforced her to do all those things.
In the hall, I sag against the wall, shoulders slumped as I stare unseeingly at the floor. Every time I close my eyes, I see her diving out of my truck. Watch as she races toward the play park. Toward the little girl that looks so. Like. Her.
That dark red hair. Those cheekbones…
However, that straight nose, the sharp eyebrows…
… features disturbingly similar to a tall, dark-haired, surly bastard I’ve shared these walls with for the last three years.
One of my closest friends.
My brother, for all intents and purposes.
I can still feel the bone-deep chill that settled over me as the realization dawned.
The realization that Grayson had been wrong. ThatIhad been wrong.
Feeling like I might puke, I stumble into the living room, collapsing into the nearest chair. My head falls back, eyes closing.
I’m instantly assaulted with images of today. Riley pushing the little girl—her daughter—on the swings. The first truly genuine smile, bright and radiant, filled with hope and for once not fractured or riddled with anguish on Riley’s face.
The light that entered her eyes. I’d never seen that before. Never seen her so… at peace. So content. So lost in the moment. Her mind is always on something else, always trying to figure out how to stay ahead, ascertaining how much of herself she is willing to compromise for the bigger goal. It’s always fascinated me, watching her ingenious mind at work, but seeing her press pause today, seeing how truly happy she was for that brief moment… I caught a rare and precious glimpse of therealRiley. At the best version of herself. Not the person she needs to be when she’s on campus. Not the dancer she portrays at Lux. Not the woman unleashing every ounce of pent-up emotion in the dance studio. And certainly not the cornered cat fighting for survival, for the safety of her daughter that she had to become to navigate the predators in this house while we tried to tear her limb from limb.
Round and around I go. Thoughts swirling. Emotions raging.
Shock.
Outrage—at myself, at Grayson, at his father.
