Page 10 of Wicked Minds
It makes it even more pertinent that I make it up to her. So she’s not left with the same scars I bear. God knows she’s already got enough of her own for one lifetime.
…A daughter.
I still can’t quite believe it.
“Are you going to tell them?” Riley asks in a weary yet on-edge voice, and I pull my focus from the worn door of her rundown building, trying to remember how the hell I ended up here. The last thing I remember is pulling out of the lot at the park.
How I got here doesn’t matter. For once, my subconscious recognized the right thing to do and followed through. This is where sheshouldbe. Not locked inside our house. Even if, by the end, she was no longer confined to her room. Roaming the house as though she had as much right to be there as we did—sleeping in Logan’s bed and curling up between the two of us while we watched TV.
I run my gaze over the perplexing woman beside me. She’s staring out the window, but sensing my eyes on her, she turns to face me, her expression pulled tight in anticipation of my answer.
Am I going to tell them? It’s a damn good question.
For a moment, I understand the predicament Logan has been in—torn between his loyalty to us and his feelings for her.
The answer should be yes. Easy. My loyalties should lie with the men who’ve been like brothers to me. The only family who’s ever given a damn aboutme—who has chosen me. Chosenmyside. Believedmytruth.
And yet, it’s not that easy. Not that black and white. Because, while I agree that Grayson has a right to know, it’s not my secret to tell, and I can understand Riley’s hesitancy to make herself vulnerable like that. To peel back that layer of protection she has encased around her daughter.
There’s a reason she’s kept her daughter a secret all these years. Why she never went to the cops or demanded a DNA sample.
A mother’s love.
A mother’s protection.
While my own mother is as maternal as a rottweiler trained to go for the jugular, Riley is made of different stuff. Better fabric. With this new insight, I can see that everything she has done has been for her daughter.
Halston.
Lux.
Enduring us.
All of it has been to protect that little girl.
“It’s your secret to tell,” I finally respond, eyes scouring her face. “And I know you have no reason to trust them—any of us—with it, but I think they should know the truth. Grayson in particular.”
Riley snorts. “Grayson would rather choke to death on his father’s lies than accept the truth. My daughter isn’t a bargaining chip or a pawn. I won’t use her to make Grayson believe me over his father. I refused to use her back then, and I won’t do it now.”
I’m not entirely sure what she means by that, but now isn’t the time to pry. Sighing, I run my hand through my hair. “That’s fair. I can try talking to Gray.” I grimace at the notion, already suspecting how that conversation will end. “But you should tell Logan. He’s already on your side. Pretty much has been this entire time.”
“Other than that one time when he drugged me, brought me to your house and chained me to a stripper pole,” Riley snarks, filled with pent-up fire. “Oh, and the other time when he accused me of trying to ruin him with a false rape accusation.”
My face contorts, and I wisely keep my mouth shut. I know damn well why Logan jumped to that assumption, and I equally understand why Riley would be bitter toward us—Logan in particular. Regardless, her daughter is Gray’s half-sister, which, holy fuck, I hadn’t quite connected those dots untilright now. Grayson has a little sister. And he fucked her mom. Jesus, talk about complicated family dynamics.
Anyway, that’s not the point.
Grayson is a total ass, but he’s loyal and very family oriented. His Gran means everything to him. If he has a sister, he’ll want to know about her. Be there for her. Help her if she needs it, which I’m not sure she does. Logan mentioned how Riley’s mom was a bitch to her, demanding money, yet her daughter lives with her, and based on the urgency with which she came to me this morning, I can’t help but think there’s more to the situation than meets the eye. A theory that solidifies as I scan Riley’s face, noting the weariness tugging at her features. She looks exhausted, and I know these last few days haven’t been easy on her, except I sense it’s more than that.
Her exhaustion is the kind that comes from years of being beaten down. Years of struggling to survive. Of barely holding it together. Is there more going on than I’m aware of? Other pressures on her shoulders? I have so many questions.
The sudden realization hits me, metaphorically knocking me off my feet. I want to know everything there is to know about Riley James. Whatever this is, it is no longer purely physical. I’m not entirely sure if it ever was simply that. This chemistry between us has always been potent. Drawing me in. I wanted to keep her at a distance. I needed to. And Grayson’s belief helped me to ensure that, but now…
Now, there’s no denying that my obsession isn’t solely with her body but also with her mind. Her personality. Her soul. Her history. Her past and her future. Her life. Her daughter. Her fears and concerns. Her hopes and dreams.
Every little nuance that makes RileyRiley.
I want to know it all.
