Page 45 of Wicked Minds
“Man, that was a false allegation. Riley will understand that.”
“Maybe she will, although what seeds of doubt will it plant in her head? What triggers might it provoke? Memories that might resurface? She doesn’t deserve to relive her trauma.”
Logan has the good grace to grimace.
“Beyond that, what happened… it fucked me up. It’sstillfucking me up. The Ellingtons have proven that they can come back at any time and rip my dreams away from me.”
“Royce, they can’t take Riley away from you.”
“Can’t they? They took my football career.”
“Yeah, but Riley isn’t someone to be bought or easily swayed. If anything, her past makes it easier for her to differentiate the truth from the lies. Show her whoyouare, and she’ll have no doubt that you’re telling her the truth.”
I shake my head, refusing to believe him. Refusing to give myself even that little speck of hope. “I’ll only bring more baggage to her door.”
“Maybe you should let Riley decide that. Isn’t that what we’re doing? Giving Riley control? Letting her make the decisions; letting her set the pace. Just focus on making it up to her. If she decides she wants more, then I imagine you’ll be unable to say no, so there’s no point beating yourself up about it.”
“You give the worst advice,” I grumble, leaning back against the countertop as I nurse my fresh cup of coffee.
“I give the best advice, but enough about you. I need your help, and since you and Riley are on kissing terms, you’re in the best position to help me come up with ideas to prove to her that I’m on her team.”
“No. Absolutely not. I’m not doing that.”
“What? Why not?” he moans. “I need help! Something that shows her how much she means to me.”
“You could try telling her,” I drawl sarcastically before mentally slapping myself for engaging him at all.
“Don’t you think I’ve done that? My words mean nothing, apparently. I have toshowit. Actions speak louder than words and all that jazz. I’m still debating getting her a car. There’s this cool pink SUV I found that I think she’d totally dig, though she’smade it clear that she doesn’t want me to pay for everything for her, so maybe I should save that for later…”
“That would probably be wise,” I deadpan. “Riley’s all about the small stuff. The meaningful everyday things,” I tack on before once again chastising myself for getting involved. Logan’s going to do whatever Logan is going to do. He doesn’t need my help, and I don’t want to be tossed to the dogs when whatever he ultimately lands on backfires.
“I know that,” he argues with a pout. “I’ve been doing that. It just doesn’t feel like enough. I feel like I need to do more. Do something that genuinely proves to her how sorry I am.”
Oh, for fuck’s sake.“Riley’s not like you. She’s not a showy person. You don’t need to give her big, public gestures. She doesn’t need you to announce to the world that you’re sorry or fix every little problem in her life by throwing money at it,” I try to explain to him.
“You’re right,” he says with a determined set to his jaw that has me internally groaning. “I’ve been thinking too small. I need to go bigger.”
“That’s not even close to what I said,” I argue. However, it’s obvious he isn’t listening as his eyes light up with a gleam that alarms me.
“Thanks for the chat, man. I gotta go get ready for tonight’s game.”
As he walks away, I call after him, “I didn’t fucking say anything! Whatever you’re thinking, I want no part in it. This conversation never happened!”
Asshole doesn’t even respond.
I’m only left in peace for a few moments before the front door opens and Grayson walks in, t-shirt sticking to him and hair soaked from his run.
“Hey,” he says breathlessly before filling a glass of water and downing it.
“Hi.” Silence falls between us, rare and out of place.
“Where were you last night,” he asks, wiping the sweat from his forehead. “I was looking for you. Wanted to talk.”
“What did you wanna talk about?” I ask, deliberately avoiding his question about where I was.
Of course, the asshole notices, his eyes narrowing in thought before he connects the dots. “Seriously? You’re still stalking her at that club?”
“It’s none of your business,” I growl. Before this can escalate into an argument, I repeat, “What did you wanna talk about?”
