Page 38 of Wicked Minds
“Grace,” the nurse addresses, her tone soft and soothing.
“He shouldn’t be here!” Gran insists, pointing an accusing finger at me.
“Okay,” the nurse easily agrees, turning to me. “Perhaps you should go.”
I swallow roughly, reluctant to leave her when she’s in this state.
“He shouldn’t be here,” Gran repeats, on the verge of sobbing this time. Seeing her so upset breaks my heart.
“Okay.” I sigh. “I’m going. I’ll leave. I—” I stare devastated at my Gran. “I’m sorry.”
Gone are the tears in Gran’s eyes, replaced by a lost sort of hardness aimed at me. “You’re not capable of feeling sorry.” The facade cracks. “You killed my baby girl. I will never forgive you.”
Everything in me shatters. My dad… she thinks I’m my dad.
“Grayson,” the nurse says carefully. “It’s best if you go. I’ll get her settled. She’ll be okay.”
I nod absently, but my feet remain superglued to the floor.
“She’ll be okay,” the nurse continues, and I finally tear my gaze away from Gran’s frightened face.
“Yeah. Okay.” I shake my head, pulling myself together. “Okay, I’ll go. I’m sorry,” I say to the nurse before leaving Gran’s room with a heavy heart and even more questions than I had before.
Numb, I climb into my car as my phone buzzes. Pulling it out, the number for Springview Federal Correctional flashes across the screen. I send it to voicemail.
For the next several hours, I drive aimlessly around as day turns to night, and my headlights pop on, lighting up the road in front of me. I barely even notice. Seeing Gran deteriorate like this… it’s painful to watch the woman who was once my anchor, my lighthouse, fade into nothing more than memories—possibly not even real ones at that.
How am I meant to see her every week if this is going to become a regular occurrence… her thinking I’m my dad? I don’t want her to be terrified of me. I don’t want my visits to bring about such pain. She’s already suffered enough, losing her daughter and husband. I don’t want to add to that. Not when she’s so frail and I don’t know how much time she has left.
The weight of being mistaken for my father weighs heavily on my chest. It’s not that she didn’t recognize me. It’s her reaction to thinking I was my dad. That fear… how can it be imagined?Isit imagined? Was I so oblivious when I was younger that I missed her terror?
The not knowing is driving me insane, but I have no way of finding out. It’s not like I can ask my father about it. I can’t trust Gran’s version of the truth… who else is there to talk to?
My mood is heavy when I finally pull up outside the house. The windows are dark, and for the first time in a while, I’m disappointed that no one is home. Recently, I’ve felt like an outsider walking into my own house. Avoiding the guys and actually feeling more at ease when they aren’t around. Tonight, though, I feel like I need to talk.
Inside, I walk from room to room, unable to settle, but there’s definitely no one here. It’s a Friday night… Logan most likely has a game, and Royce is probably there.
Or maybe they’re with her.
“Ugh,” I groan aloud. I can’t even handle thoughts of her.
“Your dad raped me, Grayson.”
Unbidden, her words echo in my mind.
No. Not possible.
It’s not like my dad actuallykilledmy mom, despite what Gran is saying. Mom was sick. Dad played no part in that. She probably meant it metaphorically. Perhaps she blames him for not doing more, or maybe their marriage wasn’t what she wanted for her daughter… there are so many ways Gran’s words could be interpreted that aren't outright murder because that’s just… not possible.
My dad may not be perfect. He may not even be a good man, but he’s not a murderer, and he’s certainly not a rapist.
13
RILEY
My muscles hurt from being on stage all night as I grab my bag, calling goodnight to the girls still in the dressing rooms as I head for the door.
I haven’t spoken to Royce all week, and I find myself almost looking forward to our cone of silence in his car as he drives me home. There’s something so simple yet precious about it. How many people can you say you can sit in comfortable silence with?
