Page 62 of Wicked Minds
I sigh, relaxing into Logan’s chest. “I know. I swear she looks more like him with each passing year.”
“You know he’s going to lose his shit when he discovers the truth,” Logan states, face pinched as he continues to scroll through my photo reel. “He won’t be able to keep denying the truth.”
“It’s fucked up that he so blindly believes his dad,” Royce snaps, irritated.
I sigh dejectedly. “He’s his dad. We all want to believe the best of our parents, even if they haven’t always been the best people.” My indifference falls away as my own painful memories surface, and I swallow thickly. “My mom and I have never gotten along well. I knew she wasn’t a maternal person, yet when I finally found the courage to tell her what her husband was doing after she fell asleep…” My voice cracks, my lower lip trembling as I fight back the wave of emotion. “It never occurred to me that she wouldn’t believe me. That she’d take his side over mine—a man she’d known less than a year.”
The first tear overflows as I rip my heart open anew, recalling the devastation of that moment. It had taken months for me to gather the courage to tell her, and I’d pinned all of my hopes on it. I’d convinced myself that it would stop as soon as I told her. That she would somehow make it all better. Take me away, call the cops.
Something.
Anything.
I couldn’t have been more wrong. “Until that moment, she was still my mom. We weren’t close and rarely saw eye-to-eye, but I thought…” I sigh, sniffling as I wipe at my cheeks and stare down at my lap. “I dunno what I thought, but the second she told me to shut up and not to say anything that could ruin her marriage, she stopped being my mom.”
Rough fingers wrap around my chin, his grip firm yet gentle as he lifts my head until I’m staring into stormy blue eyes. “You were thinking that she’s your mom, and she was supposed to protect you,” Royce growls, practically vibrating with his anger. “She’s the one who letyoudown. The most important job as a parent, and she failed you. That’s on her. You shouldn’t feel bad for putting your faith in the one person who you’re meant to undoubtedly trust.”
I nod, eyes blurry with tears.
“When do you see Aurora next?” Logan asks, voice soft as he strokes his thumb to and fro across the back of my hand.
“Last Saturday of the month, so another two weeks—assuming my mom doesn’t cancel.”
Above my head, the two of them share a look. “Riley, have you spoken to Aurora since Christmas Day?” Royce asks with an edge to his voice that makes me wary of my response.
My resounding silence is answer enough. “Fucking hell, Ry, that’s messed up.” Royce practically vibrates with rage.
“It is what it is. It’s not like I haven’t tried to get in touch with my mom. She just likes to ignore my calls until it’s payday.”
There’s an almost feral edge to Royce’s voice. “You mean to tell me we’re two weeks into the year, and you haven’t gotten to tell your daughter Happy New Year?”
I shake my head.
“That fucking bitch.”
I snort, in total agreement with his assessment of my mother.
“Isn’t there anything you can do?” Logan asks, just as outraged.
There’s a forced nonchalance to my shrug. “I could get on the train and go see her next weekend, although it’s likely to do more harm than good. This is just something my mom does. Eventually, she’ll come asking for money and I’ll have my leverage to get a conversation or meeting with Rora.”
“That’s... I don’t even have words,” Logan empathizes.
“It’s disgusting, is what it is,” Royce snarls.
“If you still haven’t heard from your mom by next weekend, I’ll drive you to wherever she is,” Logan insists. “Or maybe we shouldn’t wait ‘til the weekend. We could go after class someday this week. I have practice on—” I cut him off by placing my hand on top of his.
“That’s a sweet offer, but you don’t have to do that.”
“I want to,” he insists. “Besides, you think I can deal with this asshole having seen her and not me? Not a chance. I have a feeling we’re going to be besties. I’m thinking friendship bracelets and matching braids in our hair.”
“Dude,” Royce interjects, struggling to fight back a laugh. “What are you gonna do, grow a beard and braid that?”
“Maybe.”
I can’t help laughing at their banter, which I’m sure is their intention.
“Let me try and get in touch with my mom this week. I don’t want to rock the boat unnecessarily. She’ll be pissed if I show up randomly, and life will be easier if I can avoid that.”
