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I sigh and kneel next to her. “Okay, here’s the deal.” She stares at me, reaching for my hands to hold them. “Forget about your hair being green. . . you’re gonnabegreen soon if we don’t, one, shower tonight, and two, change your clothes.”
She lets go of my hands, her arms straight at her side and a scowl wrinkling her forehead. “No. I don’t want to.”
“Sorry, kiddo.” I pat her head, twisting her around to the rack of dresses. “We don’t have a choice. How about you pick a new one to wear. Something brand-new.”
“Why? I like this one. Mama bought it.”
There’s a defiant side to River, one I’ve seen many times in her young life and I always wondered who she got it from. It certainly wasn’t Cullen, a man of careful control and reserve. And it wasn’t Ava, the sweetest person you’d ever meet. My entire life with her, I’d never even heard Ava raise her voice. Knowing what I know now, I can see where it comes from. Tiller.
I want to tell her she doesn’t have to change, but I know she needs to. I want to say, “You need to change because I said so,” but I don’t because that’s not the right words. And my mother used to say that to me all the time, like it’d pacify anything she didn’t have an answer for.
“You’ve been such a good girl this last week, I just thought you might want to pick out something new.”
Her eyes brighten. “Like a toy?”
“You don’t have room for new toys.”
“I do too!”
Sighing, I stand up. “Okay, so you pick out a dress, take a bath tonight, and I’ll take you to get a toy tomorrow. How about that?”
I kid you not, she rolls her eyes at me and huffs out, “Fine.”
The store is empty apart from an elderly woman who moves slowly from one dress to the next, her hand trailing over the hangers as she skims through the rack feeling the different textures beneath her fingertips, the satin materials vastly smoother than her wrinkled skin.
River’s yet to make a decision. Probably because she’s only thinking about a toy now. She keeps looking though. She’s either disappointed at what she finds, or she’s remembering her mother taking her shopping for the dress splattered with blood she’s still wearing and I feel horrible for asking her to change.
I’m pulled from my inner thoughts, voices in the distance. The three faces are immediately recognizable, one sparks a deeper emotion than the other.
Internally, my heart tugs with a gamut of emotions I don’t understand. Bella and her friend, smiling and laughing as they relay something to Cody, who follows behind them.
A sudden emotion surges, spreading like wildfire when I see Bella Ames. Every girl has one rival, and I can’t even say Bella’s a rival. She’s just someone who’s been in my life since I was young, and always a step ahead of me. Even with Tiller. Especially with Tiller. I’m sure you know, but I’ve loved Tiller for like, ever. Bella knew this and still pursued him.
And Cody. . . he’s the nicest guy you’d ever meet, so unlike Bella and Tiller.
Cody’s gaze travels around the store for a few seconds before it meets mine, his lips turning up into a smile, resulting in my own. “Hey, Amberly.”
As always, Cody’s smile is genuine, and I’m weirdly nervous, but not really because of him. Or maybe just a little. Cody likes me in a way I’ll never return, but it’s hard to tell someone your heart belongs to a boy who only wants to drown it.
I close my eyes and take a deep breath. My discomfort is mainly because of Bella.
“Hey, Cody,” I say, peeking up at him when I open my eyes, acknowledging his presence.
He smiles, a soft upturn of lips. “I heard. . . .” His voice trails off, and then he adds, “And I’m sorry.”
I’m tired of hearing that phrase and wish I’ll never hear it again.
“Thank you,” I voice as he leans against a rack, watching me, and then River. “Is that her daughter?”
I nod, my suddenly heavy heart aching, my eyes stinging and landing on the girl next to him. I wonder why Cody’s here with Bella, when I’ve only ever seen her around Tiller, hanging on his every word at the track. And if she’s not near Tiller, she’s with other riders. She’s a ProHo (a girl who only goes after professional riders) at best, and that’s giving her a lot of credit if you ask me.
Her too light gray eyes assess me and my hair for longer than I enjoy. She does this any time weunintentionallycross paths. It’s like she’s looking for something, a fault, a memory, I’m not sure. And I’m unsure of her, unable to get a clear read on who she really is. She’s either very straightforward or she’s hiding from a lot.
Blinking like someone snapped their fingers in her face, Bella seems to find her words. “God, I’m so sorry, Amberly. I can’t imagine losing my sister.”
The bleach in her hair runs deeper than her roots. I wonder if she realizes what she said. Being an only child, she doesn’t have a sister. And then her smile wanes just a little. “How are you holding up?”
“It’s okay.” I find myself saying the right words, too, even though I don’t feel the truth behind them. “I’m doing fine.”