“But were you really forced?” the reporter asks. “You signed the divorce agreement. You knew what you were complying to.”
“At the time, I was a single mother, young and confused. I was scared, and I did what I thought was best for my son.”
“Ryke.”
“Yes, Ryke.”
Someone shifts in the open doorway that connects the adjoining motel rooms. I look over.
Ryke. His eyes are dark and set on the screen like he’s been watching for a little bit. His hair is wet from taking a shower in the other bathroom. After Connor’s warning last night, he went back to their bedroom. And I didn’t even make him check the locks before he left. I’m trying my best to overcome that fear.
It must be almost time to hit the road again, and I’m sure he came to fetch me, but his gaze stays on the television screen.
Sara straightens up in her chair. “I realize now that I only hurt him through the divorce agreement.”
Ryke runs a hand through his wet hair and walks further into the room, his eyes falling to the ground as he searches the floor for the remote.
“Don’t you want to listen to what she has to say?” I ask him, packing my comb in my duffel.
“It’s a fucking media ploy to make herself look better.”
“How can you be so sure?” I ask.
Ryke turns to face me. I’m not scared of him at all, and I don’t think he wants me to be. But his eyes flash hot, with anger so deep-seated that it’s hard to look at. “She sounds like she rehearsed her answers. She doesn’t fucking talk that formal.”
I frown. “Really? My mom sounds like that.”
“Mine doesn’t. She’s emotional. If she was real, she’d be crying or yelling. She wouldn’t hold back and be stone-faced.” He gestures to the television. “The only time I’ve seen her like that is when she’s trying to impress her wealthy fucking friends.”
This is the most he’s ever talked about his mom with me. I watch as he searches for the remote, but it’s with less diligence, his gaze faraway as his thoughts spin.
“Do you miss her?” I ask him.
He finds one of my shirts on the ground and tosses it to me. “Sometimes, but it doesn’t fucking matter, Dais.”
I stuff the shirt in my duffel pocket. “But she’s your mom…” I can’t imagine never talking to mine again. Even if there are times I’d like to run away from her, running away forever sounds painful.
He shakes his head. “I can’t live in your fucking optimistic world where everyone is kind and holy. I’ve seen too many bad people to believe there’s that many good.”
“She can change though—” I start, wanting something better for him. I wish I could take his problems and uncomplicate them, even if I can’t. It hurts to feel like I have no control over it.
“Change what, Daisy?” He shrugs. “She already ruined Lily’s life,” he states matter-of-factly, but his eyes are dark. “She ruined your life and Rose’s. And she broke my fucking heart. It’s fucking over.”
I swallow hard, a lump in my throat. “She didn’t ruin my life,” I say softly.
Ryke glares. “Don’t even fucking start.” Because he’s seen me scream at night, he’s watched me turn into a scared, frightened girl. And the catalyst for everything was Sara Hale.
“I wouldn’t be upset if you tried to have a relationship with her,” I add. “I just need you to know that.”
He surrenders his search for the remote and walks forward, his hands brushing my cheeks. “Thank you,” he says with a short nod. “But it won’t change anything.”
I nod back, not sure what else to say. My throat closes.
Off my silence, his features darken, his brows furrowing. “I just can’t forgive her,” he tells me. “For some fucking reason, it feels more like a weakness than a strength to open my arms to her.”
“Even if you miss her?”
He nods. “Yeah. Even if I miss her. So that’s where I’m at.” He kisses my head. “Don’t worry too much about my family problems, Dais. It’s my shit. I really don’t want you in the middle of it.”
I look up at him. “I’m glad that you want to talk to me though.”
He gives me a confused look. “Why wouldn’t I want to?”
My age.
The pieces must click because he says, “We wouldn’t be together right now if I thought you were too immature to talk to about this stuff.”