“I think you’re good at your job. And I think it keeps you busy. But I don’t think that you’re actually that attached to building up the Griffin empire.”
I see that green fire flaring up in her eyes again. I know I’m pissing her off, but I don’t care.
“You spend a few weeks with me, and you think you know what’s best for my life?” Riona demands. “You think you know better than I do?”
“I do know you, Riona,” I say, calmly. “You think you’re independent and invulnerable. You think you want power in your family. I think you need something much more personal than that.”
“What?” Riona demands.
“You need to be loved,” I tell her. “You’re not above it, any more than I am. You’ve been happy here with me. Happier than you are at home.”
Riona stares at me, lips pressed together. I can tell she’s angry, but she didn’t throw back an answer as quickly as I expected.
She swallows hard, and then replies, “I do like it here. But I’m not going to abandon everything I’ve worked for in Chicago. I want that partnership. I earned it. I’m grateful for everything you did for me . . . everything your family did. But I don’t belong here. This is your home, not mine.”
Disappointment washes over me, heavy and dark.
I hadn’t realized how much I’d been hoping that Riona would stay. After everything we’ve been through together. Everything we’ve learned about each other . . . I thought she had bonded to me, like I bonded to her.
But I was wrong.
She’s anxious to get back home. The Djinn is gone, and Josh Hale as well. Nobody is out to get her anymore. So she doesn’t need me. I did my job a little too well.
“I’m sorry,” Riona says, softly.
She doesn’t ask me to come back to Chicago with her again. She understands what I owe my family, after leaving all that time.
Still, neither of us seems very happy in this moment. We’re determined, but not content in our choice.
We ride back the rest of the way to the house in silence.
23
Riona
Bo comes back to the house at about ten in the morning, looking exhausted, but happy.
“Shelby and the baby are fine,” she says. “They’re naming her Frances.”
“Frances?” Raylan says, like it’s a foreign word.
“I know,” Bo says, shrugging. “But they seem really excited about it, so don’t say anything.”
All of a sudden I feel like an intruder here. I’m sure Raylan wants to go to the hospital to see his new niece. I don’t think I should be a part of that. The Boones should be able to enjoy all this together, without me in the mix.
Speaking quietly to Raylan, I say, “I’m gonna drive back home today.”
“By yourself?” he says. “I’ll drive you.”
“No,” I shake my head, “It’s too far. And you’ll have to fly back again. Stay here with your family. Go see your niece.”
Raylan doesn’t look happy, but he doesn’t argue with me.
I don’t have much to pack. I brought nothing with me, and I’ve mostly been wearing Bo’s clothes.
I do plan to take back the cowboy boots Raylan bought me at the outlet store. I know I won’t have anywhere to wear them in Chicago, but I feel irrationally attached to them. They’re damned comfortable, if nothing else.
I offer to reimburse Bo for the dress Raylan and I ruined, but she just snorts and shakes her head. “You were doing me a favor ripping that up. Aunt Kel is always trying to get me to dress more feminine. I wish she’d save her money, or get me something I actually like.”
“Like a grenade launcher?” Raylan interjects.
“Yeah,” Bo grins. “That would be much better.”
Bo heads over to Grady and Shelby’s house so she can help Celia get the boys dressed to go visit their baby sister.
Raylan feeds and waters the horses, while I get ready to leave.
We meet in the yard—Raylan looking tired and dusty, me gripping the keys to the Escalade in my hand.
“You sure you want to drive back alone?” he asks me.
“Yeah,” I say. “I think that’s for the best.”
I look up at his handsome, scruffy face. I wish he’d give me his charming smile one more time—the one that drove me crazy at first. Now I think it would just make me feel warm and happy.
Instead, Raylan pulls me close in a hug.
As he lets me go, he brushes my cheek with a rough kiss.
I grab his face and kiss him softly on the mouth instead.
“Thank you,” I say, again.
I turn away from him and hurry over to the car. I don’t look back at him, but my ears are straining. Listening in case he calls out to me.
Raylan doesn’t shout for me to stop. He just watches as I get into the SUV and start the engine.
I wave to him in the rearview mirror. He holds up his hand in return as I drive away.
It takes me all day long to drive back to Chicago. It’s the longest and most depressing drive of my life. Every moment of it feels wrong. My stomach is tight, and my temples throb with a headache.
I tell myself that I’m doing the right thing.
Raylan and I are too different to be together. We want completely different things out of life. He told me he wants to get married and have kids someday. I’ve sworn a hundred times that I’ll never get married, and I’m not too keen on children, either.
He wants to stay on that ranch, and I want to run a law firm.
We’re just not compatible.
It’s like Nero said—he and Camille have the same plans, the same goals. Internally they’re the same.
Raylan and I are different inside and out. Yes, we learned not to drive each other crazy. And we learned how to work together pretty well. And sexually speaking, we were pretty fucking compatible . . .
But you can’t build a whole relationship around sex. I’d like to . . . but I can’t.
Still, I feel utterly dull as I drive back into the heart of Chicago. It’s nighttime. A chilly wind blows bits of trash across the road. Not many people want to brave the cold, so the sidewalks are more empty than usual.
Raylan gave me his phone. I use it to call Dante.
The phone rings and rings without answer. I was going to ask him if I could swing by to drop off the SUV, but I don’t want to drive over there if he’s not actually home.
Without thinking, I head in the direction of the office instead. It’s more home than my actual home. And unlike my condo, it wasn’t burned to a crisp.
The office tower looks as grand and imposing as ever. It used to give me such a thrill walking through the double glass doors every day. Thinking that this would be a piece of the city I’d own someday.
Looking up, I can see two or three windows on our floor still illuminated. My own office is dark. But Uncle Oran seems to be working away.
I want to go up and sit in my chair behind my desk. I want to remind myself who I am, and what I’m working for. I haven’t felt like myself in weeks. Slipping into that cushy leather chair again will be like slipping back inside my own skin.