Page 124 of Frozen Hearts
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“Good morning, Shortcake,” I greet when I enter her room. My earlier anger has given way to curiosity, and I’m suddenly bursting with the need to hear her side of things. The questions press against the inside of my lips, demanding freedom. Still, if I stand any chance of Riley confiding in me, I have some making up to do. I can only hope that coffee and the willingness to hear her out is enough.
My lips tug down in a frown when I find her huddled against the stripper pole, her head resting against it. She’s only wearing one of my T-shirts, leaving her bare legs exposed, and I can see the goosebumps pebbling along her skin.
My displeasure only intensifies when she lifts her head and I see the dark circles forming beneath her eyes.Well, fuck. If that doesn’t make me feel like shit.
“Speak for yourself,” she sasses. “A good morning would be one where I woke up in my own bed, with my lumpy mattress and the window that isn’t properly insulated so there’s a constant draft.”Sounds… awful.Mumbling to herself, she tacks on, “Ugh, never thought I’d miss my crappy apartment.”
In an attempt to salvage the morning, I hold out my hand carrying her coffee. “Maybe this will cheer you up.”
She stares at it, her nostrils flaring as she inhales the delicious scent of coffee, nutmeg, and cinnamon before her eyes flash to mine, filling with suspicion. “What’s the catch?”
“No catch,” I assure her.
“Is it laced with laxatives?”
“What?” I ask, laughing. “No. Why would I do that?”
She shrugs, saying in an equally hurt and angry tone, “Could be Grayson’s new way to fuck with me.”
“It’s not. He’s not even here, so he has no idea I got this for you. I cross-my-heart-and-hope-to-die promise this is a laxative-free—and every other kind of drug-free – pumpkin spice latte.”
Her gaze switches to the coffee, remaining glued there as she licks her lips. “But it has caffeine, right?”
“Yes. The only drug this coffee contains is caffeine. And a fuckton of sugar.”
“Okay, I’m sold.” She makes a grabby-hands motion that has me chuckling as I pass the coffee cup over to her and watch as she lowers her nose and inhales deeply. “Ugh. So good. Truthfully, I probably still would have drunk it, even if it did contain laxatives.”
Crouching in front of her, I watch perplexed as she rests her forehead against the lid of the takeaway cup. I can’t figure out what she’s doing—praying to the coffee gods?—until she sniffles.
“Are you… crying?” I ask, starting to panic.
“No,” she bites, the word coming out muffled because she still hasn’t lifted her head.
“Riley.” Her name is laced with concern. “You are. Why? Did something happen? Are you hurt?”
She sniffles again, and I’m ten seconds away from uncuffing her and pulling her into my lap when she finally lifts her head. The cuffs jangle against the pole as she wipes a hand and swipes the telltale signs of her tears away.
“It’s nothing. I’m just tired. Maybe hormonal. My period is probably coming.”
I scan her face, hating the redness around her eyes and the fact she won’t meet my gaze.
“Okayyyy,” I say, because what the fuck else does one say in this situation? Feeling awkward as shit, I grab the key for her cuffs from my pocket and undo them before carefully helping her over to the sofa. She practically collapses onto the seat, tucking her feet beneath her as she slowly sips on her drink.
I sit and silently watch her, which thankfully, she doesn’t object to. Pressing her shoulder into the back of the sofa, she closes her eyes and rests her head against the leather fabric as she nurses her coffee. While she enjoys her morning fix, I try to reconcile the girl in front of me with the one Grayson talks about, but honestly, I can’t.
To me, they are two different people.
And unless Riley has a personality disorder, I’m beginning to think that’s the truth.
Perhaps Grayson has it wrong, and it wasn’t Riley who made the false allegations against his dad? Is it possible that she apologized because she knew who did? However, that doesn’t explain her telling me that Grayson’s dad got away with a far more severe crime. Unless she truly believes whoever made the false allegations?
There are countless possibilities as to what could have happened. Grayson is only focusing on one side of the story, and I’d be a fool not to at least hear Riley out.
“Riley,” I hedge, waiting patiently until she opens her eyes and looks at me. “What happened back then?”
I don’t need to be any more specific. She knows exactly what I’m referring to. I can tell by the way her shoulders bunch and her serene expression falls.
