Page 138 of Vicious Desire (Fallen Royals 4)

“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.