Page 106 of Frozen Hearts
“Same old. His parole hearing is set for January.”
I move to the fridge, grab a bottle of water and twist off the lid before downing half of it.
“He’ll get out, man,” Royce encourages while Logan nods.
I’m hopeful, but one can never truly know how these things will go, and the closer we get to that day, the more unsettled I become. Our relationship, while complicated, works the way it is, and I can’t fathom how that dynamic will change when he no longer needs to rely on me. I swipe a hand over my face, suppressing the ball of dread in my stomach at the thought of how bad things will get if he is denied parole.
“How’s our hostage?” I ask instead, desperately needing the distraction.
Logan shrugs. “Angry,” he mutters bitterly.
“Huh, she didn’t seem angry when I went in to check on her,” Royce muses, only causing Logan’s scowl to deepen.
I watch him closely, his forehead creased as he mulls something over before lifting his gaze to meet mine. “Gray, can I ask you something without you biting my head off?” My eyes narrow as I wait him out, and he eventually spits out, “Are you sure she’s the girl?”
“Why the fuck are you asking me that, Logan?” I growl, my heart pounding with a mix of anger and frustration. “Am I certain she’s the one who falsely accused my dad of raping her? Yes, I’m fucking certain.”
“Why?” he argues, unfazed by my outburst.
“Why? Because as they pulled my dad out the door and placed him in the back of the cop car after stating the allegations against him, she turned to me and told me she was fucking sorry.” My voice cracks with emotion, body trembling with the weight of my hatred for that bitch. “Why areyousuddenly doubting me?”
“I’m not,” he says, holding his palms up in defense. “I’m just trying to understand. Was there ever any proof? Did she testify or anything?”
I search his face, struggling to control my emotions as rage crashes like a tidal wave over my head. “What. The. Fuck. Did she say to you?”
“Nothing.” When I simply continue to stare, he confesses, “She went off on me earlier, saying how your dad committed the crime he was accused of and got away with a far more serious one.”
“If that isn’t proof enough that it was her who accused him,” I counter, voice rising with frustration.
“True. It’s just the Riley I got to know… I didn’t think she’d be capable of doing that.”
“Because she’s a manipulative liar!” I half yell, unable to contain the lid on my anger. Staring him right in the eyes, I bluntly state, “I’m sorry to break it to you, man, but the girl you thought you knew doesn’t exist. Trust me. Once upon a time, I thought I knew her, too.”
He nods but doesn’t meet my eyes, clearly struggling with the conflicting information he’s received. It lessens some of that rage inside me, and I continue in a softer tone, “She’s trapped and searching for a way out of her predicament, and she seesyouas the weak link. She has a connection to you and thinks she can manipulate and use it for her own gain.”
Logan’s lips press into a scowl, his eyes drilling into the tabletop. “You’re right, man. I’m sorry. I let her get in my head and I shouldn’t have.”
Blowing out a breath, I place my hand on his shoulder; my anger snuffed out at seeing his turmoil. “It’s okay, dude. I know you’re having a rough time with this. It’ll get easier, I promise. We’ll break her until she finally confesses to what she did, and then you’ll see her for who she truly is.”
Deep down, though, I’m worried. I can’t help but wonder if Logan will be able to resist her manipulation and see through her lies. Concern that she will sink her claws in and destroy him the same way she has my dad, has my hatred toward her sharpening into a finely tuned weapon, and with fresh determination, I lift my head and meet Royce’s ice-cold stare. “You still on board?”
The same cold, hard determination is reflected back at me. “You know it, man.”
Confident that between us, we’ll be able to keep Logan out of her clutches, I smirk. “Good, ‘cause I stopped on the way home and got awelcome to hellgift for her for tonight.” I hold up the paper bag in my hand, and both Logan and Royce eye it critically.
“That’s tonight’s fun sorted, then, but what do we do with her tomorrow when we’re at Logan’s game? Just chain her up and leave her?” Royce asks.
“Actually,” Logan begins hesitantly, eyes shifting between Royce and me. Even before he opens his mouth, I know I’m not going to like whatever he’s going to say. “I was thinking she could come to the game with you guys.”
Yup. Knew I’d fucking hate it.
“Why?”
“Fucking hell, is this that superstitious bullshit, man?” Royce gripes, rolling his eyes. Logan has always been into that shit. He’s got a puck from his first Championship win that he kisses before every game because he believes it brings him good luck. And now he’s set Riley on the same pedestal. “You do realize it’s all hocus pocus. Only you can determine if you have a good game or not.”
“Yeah, maybe,” Logan says, clearly not truly believing that. I’ve heard enough times about the weird rituals some of his teammates have to know there’s no point in trying to tell him—or apparently any hockey player—otherwise. They will continue to do whatever they believe is necessary to win their game. Whether it be wearing the same pair of boxers for each one, listening to the same song on repeat in the locker room, or sleeping in their opponent’s uniform—yes, the captain his sophomore year did actually do that.
Royce should understand it better than I do. Some of the guys he played football with were just as superstitious. However, Royce is a firm believer in devising your own luck. He had his own pre-game ritual, but it had nothing to do with superstition and everything to do with getting his head in the right mindset before he went out onto the field.
