Page 71 of Ride or Die

“He was rescuing you from a home invasion. It’s a known psychological phenomenon.” Riley tapped the buttons on the machine. She’d studied transference in university too, along with Pavlov. She’d written a paper on it, actually.

She’d been thinking a lot about operant conditioning lately.

“That’s beside the point,” her mother said, wrinkling her nose. “So? Is he the one? Endgame—is what you young people say now?”

Riley looked at the shelf, from where her mom had a view of the entire tiny apartment. “Mom.”

She cackled, tanned skin crinkling around her eyes. “Also not a no!”

Riley had to shut this down, otherwise the next words out of the phone were going to be about babies.

“Mom. NO,” she said, like she was talking to her baby cousins. Well, they probably weren’t babies anymore. It’d been a while since she’d seen them.

Perfect topic change.

“When is the next family reunion? We haven’t been to Houston in a while.”

“Riley Meredith Sinclair. Do not speak to me like a dog. And do not change the subject. I am your mother.”

Riley picked up the phone and grinned down at the screen. “A very nosy mother.”

Her mom snorted, her eyes dancing wickedly.

“Who’s being nosy?” A bald head took up the whole screen, background flashing as it swung wildly.

“No, John, don’t hold it like that! You’ll go to a different screen!”

Riley’s dad’s bright grin shone from the phone. “Hey kid, how is everything?”

“No! Don’t answer him. I was about to get important details. Girl talk! Get out!”

Riley laughed as her mom chased her dad out of her sewing room and squealed when he turned to tickle her. They wrestled for the phone, and her mom finally slammed the door shut on his good-natured chuckle.

“Ha!”

Riley laughed with her. “Tell Dad I’m good. And don’t tell him about Saint.”

“SAINT! Is that his name?”

Riley closed her eyes as the shriek crackled throughout her apartment, but her mother was too happy to really be mad at. She meddled and pried with care. Gossip might have been her first love language.

The line went quiet, and Riley looked at the screen. Her mother’s eyes narrowed. “He’s not another cop, right?”

Riley shook her head. “No, I checked.” But he might be worse. She didn’t mention the military, or Saint’s friendliness with the bikers, but her stomach twisted.

A sigh of relief breezed out of the phone. “Thank goodness. I love your father, but being a cop’s wife is not the life I wanted for you. And now that Andrew’s out of the picture…”

Riley hadn’t realized her dad’s career in law enforcement had strained her parents’ marriage until she was older, when she learned that they weren’t just quiet. The silence was all the unspoken questions. The worries. Wondering who was going to walk through the door— a husband, or the officer that had just been through hell and back. Her dad had become a different person when he retired. Warm and bubbly.

Riley was still getting to know that version of him.

“It’s too bad about Andrew, honey. But it’s for the best.”

“Can we not?” Riley found another load of laundry in the dryer, crumpled and flat. From last week.

“He’s a sweet boy, but not quite right for you, bless his heart. Too bad you didn’t fall for the brother. Toby. Now… Gloria said he’s running his own law firm.”

She didn’t doubt it. She scrambled for something to say to get the stars out of her mother’s eyes, to get the conversation off the Achisons.