by S. Massery
Yeah, well.
“The people are nice here. I’m learning a lot of coping skills and how to deal with my depression and anxiety.”
“Anxiety?”
“It presents itself in different ways. In my case, it effected my ability to leave the house.”
Ah.
It’s been two months since we admitted her to Meadowview. She was almost released at the thirty-day mark, but she and her doctors agreed that she wasn’t ready. She also hadn’t called, and only Dad was allowed to visit her.
Or so he said.
Noah thinks Mom didn’t want us up there.
“I have good news,” Mom says. “We’ve figured out a medication and dosage that helps me, and I’m ready to come home.”
My chest tightens. “Really?”
“I’ll be home for Christmas.” Her voice cracks.
I cover my mouth, because I don’t want to blurt out anything stupid.
Dad’s been on leave from his job for almost as long as she’s been at the facility. The worst part is that these past few months are the most I’ve seen of Dad. He still wakes up with me every morning and sits diligently by the window until I return.
Coffee in the pot.
Newspapers laid out on the table.
We share a quick breakfast, and I head to school.
Sometimes Eli is a substitute teacher, but he’s stepped back. Now, he’s taking online classes at the local community college to prepare him to rejoin a university.
Oh, and the best part?
My cross-country team made it to State.
A recruiter was there.
And I don’t think anyone had as loud of a cheering section as I did at that race.
“Eli and I are going to Chicago for New Year’s,” I tell her.
She hums. “Lovely boy.”
Her brain skips over the year of tortured hatred I felt toward him. To her, we were together all along. He never broke my heart and I never betrayed his trust.
Some days I wish it was that simple.
“We have interviews with the University of Chicago,” I say.
This takes her by surprise. “But it’s so far away.”
Eli comes over and touches my shoulder. I lean into him.
“It is far, but I was offered a full ride conditional on my acceptance.”
She sucks in a sharp breath. “Riley, that’s wonderful. For cheerleading?”
That hurts a little. I glance up at Eli and exhale. He nods encouragingly.
He and Noah both seemed to agree that I sugarcoated my life from Mom. She was never around, so I didn’t want to make waves. In the end, Mom had no idea that I was bullied by the cheerleaders, that they held a fake party to celebrate her death, or even that I joined the cross-country team.
“I haven’t been on the cheerleading team in two years,” I say gently. “The scholarship was offered to me by a recruiter who saw me run the New York State Championship cross-country race. I came in third.”
“Oh, honey. I had—” She pauses. “I’ll do better. I want to know everything.”
“Okay,” I say in a quiet voice.
Do I believe it?
Maybe I should.
Hope is a dangerous thing, but only if you let it drag you too high into the sky.
For the first time in a while, I reach over my shoulder and touch where I know the outline of the bird is tattooed into my skin. I used to put my finger on it a lot after I first got it. It represented everything I could lose—and everything I could be.
Noah went with me to get it. He has a matching one on the back of his calf. We wanted something to tie our family together. Back then—and even now—it reminds me of Mom. How easily a bird’s wings can be clipped. First by cancer, then depression.
I vow to not let myself get caged in.
I almost open my mouth and tell her about it. If that’s included in the everything she wants to know. But I can’t.
The bell above the shop door dings, and a couple wander inside. Their voices float toward us.
“You sound like you’re out,” Mom says.
“We’re in Times Square for the tree lighting…”
“I don’t want to hold you up,” she says quickly. “How about you give me a call when you’re free?”
I smile. “Perfect.”
“I love you, Riley.”
My heart thuds heavily. “I love you, too, Mom.”
I hang up and wrap my arms around Eli. For the past two months, I’ve leaned on him more than I should’ve. And he’s held me up without failing.
“You okay?” he asks, kissing the tip of my nose.
“Absolutely.”
Eli
Eight Months Later
Riley’s parents and mine are finally getting along.
I only dare to say this because we successfully managed a flight to Chicago without any arguments, and we even shared a big taxi to Riley’s and my brand-new apartment.
We flew out here a month ago and scoped out about eighteen different apartments, finally settling on one that was appealing, in a safe neighborhood, and close to campus. Oh, and affordable for my trust fund.
I started getting payouts from it on my eighteenth birthday, unbeknownst to me. Once I graduate with a bachelor’s degree, I’ll receive the rest of it.
Way to keep me honest, Mom and Dad.
Riley bounces around our new space with all the energy of a toddler on a sugar high. The furniture movers just left. My mom and Riley’s had a lot of opinions about where to put everything. Both our parents seem tiredly happy with what we’re renting and how it’s set up.
“And look! You can see the river from here!” Riley drags her mom over to the huge windows. “I want to put a plant stand here. Get some ivy, maybe…”
Dad chuckles. “You’re going to let her decorate?”
“I’ll have some say, I’m sure.” Probably in the bedroom.
“What do we think about getting some lunch?” Riley’s dad asks. He’s opening drawers in the kitchen, scoping out the fridge.
If he didn’t ask, I think my own was a few seconds away from voicing it himself.
“Great idea,” Mom says. “I think I saw a little bistro down the street.”
They file out.
“Can you bring stuff back for us?” I ask Mom, sticking my head into the hallway.
She smiles knowingly, and I inwardly cringe.
Riley’s about to sail past me, her purse slung over her shoulder, when I grab her wrist. She swings back into me.
I cup her face.
She peers up at me, barely suppressing her excitement. After so long, we’re here. Together.
Happy.
Her mother has been doing well, and her dad, last I knew, had transferred back to the Hillshire county office. He was done working in Manhattan.
“I love you,” I say.
I love telling her, because a spark comes into her eyes every time. Like a tiny firework bursting just under her skin.
“And you know what?”
“What?” she parrots, breathless.
“Food can wait. We need to christen this place.”
“Ah,” she murmurs. “I’m down for that.”
An hour later, I drag her up from the couch and try to smooth her hair. It’s useless—they’re going to know right away. Plus, the whole place smells like sex.
“Oh god,” Riley murmurs. “We should’ve got air freshener or something. Dad’s going to punch you again.”
I roll my eyes. “We’re living together. They know what we’re doing.”
Her face turns a deep red, and she hurries into the kitchen. There are boxes of glassware and utensils we haven’t unpacked yet, and she rips into one of the boxes. Water straight from the sink, she tips back the glass and drains it in a matter of seconds.
“Do you think we damaged each other irreparably?” she asks me. She leans against the counter and crosses her arms.
I watch her. She fidgets for a moment, picking
up the glass and setting it in the sink.
“Why do you say that?” I finally ask.
“Because… I don’t know. I love you, but I feel like maybe I hurt you too much.”
I go to her and lift her hands. “I trust you. Got it? And all this stuff you think is between us…” I shrug. “We have scars between us. What we did to each other left marks.”
“Ugly marks,” she whispers. She wipes at her eye, then shakes her head. “I’m sorry, I don’t know why I’m bringing this up now—”
“It’s okay. We can talk about this stuff on the eleventh hour of the biggest change in our lives. We’re starting school soon. Literally everything sort of feels up in the air.” I squeeze her hands and draw her in closer. “Except us. You’ve been my constant.”
“You’ve been mine, too.”
“Those scars between us are already fading. But even if they don’t? It’s a roadmap to our relationship. I love them. I love the highs and, well, I don’t love the lows.”
I crack a smile, and she mirrors me.
I continue, “This whole journey has made us who we are. And we’ll just keep adding to the map.”
There’s college, and the police academy—if, in four years, I still want to go that route. A proposal and engagement, then marriage. We can buy a house or a condo, or live as nomads.
Our whole lives are up for grabs.
It’s funny that I can so clearly remember knowing I had a future set in stone and dreading every minute of it.
Everything has changed.
I kiss her forehead and hold her close.
Our future is uncertain—but the fact remains that it’s our future.
To discover together.
THE END
Download a bonus Eli & Riley scene here!
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Also by S. Massery
Fallen Royals Series
Wicked Dreams
Wicked Games
Wicked Promises
Vicious Desire
Cruel Abandon
Wild Fury
Broken Mercenaries Series
Blood Sky
Angel of Death
Morning Star
Contemporary Romance
Something Special
Something Sacred
To see a current list of releases, please visit my website:
http://www.smassery.com/books
Acknowledgments
The more I write, the more my gratitude for my friends in the industry grows. First, I want to give a special shout-out to Ari, my unwavering assistant. She deals with my chaos with grace.
To all my author friends who have cheered on this book, thank you for the encouragement and the wise words of wisdom. Sometimes this book was like pulling teeth—Eli and Riley were not cooperating, folks—but I’m happy with the version I created.
My best friend in the entire world, you’re my super-supporter, which you deserve a cape for. And a red and yellow S across your chest. (For Sara, obv.)
Thank you to my early readers, Kylie and Erica, and my fantastic, wonderful editor, Emmy.
Books like this seem to come together slowly, then they snap together at the end. Fully formed and ready to be released into the world.
Thank you to my readers, and specifically the Squad (my reader group) — your excitement keeps me going.
About the Author
S. Massery is a romance author of varying subgenres. She lives in Western Massachusetts with her dog, Alice.
Before adventuring into the world of writing, she went to college in Boston and held a wide variety of jobs—including working on a dude ranch in Wyoming (a personal highlight). She has a love affair with coffee and chocolate. When S. Massery isn’t writing, she can be found devouring books, playing outside with her dog, or trying to make people smile.
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