Frozen Hearts: A Why Choose College Hockey Romance (Halston U Book 1) by R.A. Smyth

Author:R.A. Smyth [Smyth, R.A.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2023-10-03T18:30:00+00:00

19

GRAYSON

“How was she today?” the middle-aged receptionist asks as I scrawl my name in the visitor log book.

“I officially know all the lyrics to My Girl, which had never been on my bucket list, but it settled her every time.”

The woman nods knowingly. “That song is definitely her favorite at the moment. It’s so sweet of you to take time out of your Thanksgiving to spend it with her.”

My only response is a tight smile. I’m not about to bare my ugly family history to this woman. Everyone here at Sunnyside Nursing Home is great, and I know many of them wonder why I’m the one who’s always here. Her emergency contact. The one paying for her place. I’m sure they all have their theories, but none of them will ever know the truth.

“Thanks, Tammy.”

“Well, go on and enjoy the rest of your day, sweetie.”

No one has ever called me sweetie. They know if they did, I’d rip their heads off, but Tammy helps take care of one of the only people in my life who I genuinely give a shit about, so I let her get away with things I wouldn’t allow anyone else.

Wishing her a happy Thanksgiving, I stride away from the reception desk as my phone pings. Noticing a text from Royce, I open up our chat and stall halfway out the door as I stare at the photo he sent.

One in which Riley James—the girl responsible for all the shit that has gone wrong in my life—is staring off into the distance with a radiant smile.

In this captured moment, with the sun shining on her face, she looks so innocent. Virtuous. Angelic.

However, I know it’s all an act—one big, fat lie.

She couldn’t be farther from the wholesome girl she pretends to be.

Beneath that virtuous exterior is a woman who doesn’t care who she has to trample over to get what she wants. She paints a pretty picture of innocence, of docility. But she’s intelligent and cunning, and when she sets her sights on a target, she sinks in her claws and doesn’t let go until her prey is dead and lifeless in her hands.

Which is exactly what she did to my family. She hunted us. Picked us apart until she knew our weaknesses and vulnerabilities. Then she pounced. Caught us in her maw and shook until our necks snapped.

The phone creaks precariously in my hand, my anger bursting at the seams, demanding release. Forcing my grip to slacken, I tear my eyes from her face, instead lowering them over the rest of her body visible in the photo.

She’s dressed in lycra leggings that stop at her knees and a loose, floaty top that does nothing to hide her sports bra underneath. Her hair is pulled up in a messy bun, flyaway hairs sticking up everywhere, and her face is red. Based on the way the sun is reflecting off the glass and the grubby wooden floors and dated interior visible in the background, I’m guessing Royce stalked her to the dance studio she attends near her apartment.

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