Page 32 of Riot

I wrinkle my nose, leaning into the pram to check on Seren. The thought of him with anyone else sends fissures of jealousy stabbing into my chest.

“Ivy?”

A flicker of panic clenches my chest as a man walks towards me. He’s confident—too confident—and my guard goes up instantly.

Dark blonde hair flops into his eyes, and his beaming smile reveals perfect white teeth. There’s a layer of fair hair covering his jaw and upper lip, and his clothes are casual but clearly designer.

“It is you,” he says. “I thought so.”

Fear twists into recognition as my brain catches up. Jackson Cole is as handsome as I remember, and the last few years have been kind to him. He’s bulked out, muscles straining under his clothes.

How many nights did I lie in bed fantasising about him kissing me, or sweeping me away from my crappy life? When Mum was in the hospital, dreams of him were all that got me through the dark nights.

I wait for that flutter in my chest, that yearning desire for him, but it doesn’t come.

But the anxiety does.

A tendril of nerves works through my stomach as Jackson stops in front of me, rocking back on his heels as his eyes roam over me.

I’ve known Jackson since our first day at school when we were five years old, but I know now how dangerous men can be, especially the ones who pretend to be harmless.

“Hey,” I choke out.

Was he always so tall? I want to stand, even though he’ll still loom over me, but I force myself to remain seated.

“It’s been a while,” he says with a charming smile.

“It has. How are you?”

“I’m good.” His grin is easy, as if he doesn’t have a care in the world while my shoulders bow with the weight of my dread.

He sits beside me without asking, and my heart squeezes so tight, I nearly grunt at the pain.

I glance towards Riot. He’s standing with his back to me, his head lowered as he speaks into the phone.

Look up…

He doesn’t.

“It’s good to see you, Fernsby. I’m sorry we lost touch.”

“It’s fine. It’s my fault,” I murmur, dragging my gaze back to him. He’s too close. “Life’s been a little crazy.”

“I’m sure it has. Is that your kid?” He nods towards the pram. “I heard you had a baby.”

My stomach twists like a pretzel as I brace for him to say something that’s going to rip me apart, but he doesn’t. There’sno judgement in his eyes as he studies my daughter. Why would there be? He doesn’t know how she was created.

I relax, mustering a smile. “Yeah. That’s Seren.”

“Cute name,” he says, pulling silly faces at my daughter.

Jackson isn’t one of the monsters I fear.

I repeat this, willing my heart to calm down.

“It’s Welsh. It means ‘star’.”

And that’s what she is. When I was in the darkness with no way out, Seren was the star that guided me home. She gave me a reason to survive, so I gave her a name that told the world what she means to me.

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