“I can’t,” said another male voice as Ava rushed inside.
“Miss,”the concierge blurted as his eyes went wide.
Richard spun around, searched her up and down for a blink, and then sighed. “Ava, I’m soglad you’re still here. Can we talk?”
“Miss, if you would like me to have this man removed—” the concierge came again.
“No, it’s fine. Thank you.” She gave the sharp-featured man a nod then looked back at Richard, wishing she could decode the pained look on his face. “Let’s come outside.”
“I think we need to be somewhere more private,” Richard said.
“You’re right,” she said. This meant he wanted to talk about her past. Her past that no one else should know about. “Let’s go up to my room.”
“Ma’am, I really must warn you against—”
“He’s my boyfriend,” she said to the worried man behind the counter. “Okay? I trust him.”
He gave her a curt nod. “Very well.”
She nodded back. “Thank you.” After all, had Wren come to the hotel looking for her, she’d want the front desk to be vigilant.
“This way,” she said to Richard with a nod toward the elevators.
He followed quietly. He didn’t meet eyes with her in the elevator, only kept his gaze downcast as his breath, short and labored, spoke of the upset within. The deep furrow in his brow did the same. In fact, agitation oozed off him from every direction, making her wonder if she should fear him.
As it was, they could have found a private place to talk outside. But if he planned to get violent, he’d want to be behind closed doors.
The bell chimed as the elevator dragged to a stop on the third floor. The doors rumbled open, and Richard darted out like his next breath depended on it. “Where to?” he asked over his shoulder.
Ava glanced down to see him make a fist, release it, and make a fist again. She cleared her throat, and headed down the hall, mind drifting back to those unsuspected moments when Wren would finally let loose. As she stepped onto the patio with a vase of iced tea. Or right after a busy work party when everyone had gone home, and she was helping clean up. Or when she’d climbed into Wren’s car after a banquet where she’d spent the whole night puffing him up and publicly pretending to adore him.
If Richard proved to be violent as well, Ava would never trust herself again. Never. Her heart hammered restlessly, a constant clamor in her chest as she imagined recovering from such a blow. The physical, exterior pain would pale in comparison to what her heart would endure.
She tugged the card from her pocket, waved it in front of the keypad, and twisted the knob. A quick glance over her shoulder said Richard was right at her back. She stepped inside, hand clinging to the knob while he followed her in, and contemplated running instead. If Richard was secretly the same type of man as Wren or her father, she wouldn’t want to know. But at least, from here on out, she wouldn’t be searching for unicorns that didn’t exist.
The cool latch slid from her fingers.
The door let out a whisperingwhooshbefore metal met metal with a clank. Ava backed up as Richard paced the entryway with his jaw clenched.
“I think I figured something out, and I need you to be honest with me if I’m right.”
His breaths were still labored, seeming to push the words from his lips.
“Okay.” Ava gulped, lifted her chin, and folded her arms to fight the oncoming tremor that buzzed beneath the surface.
“Did Wren…” He stopped there and turned to meet her gaze, that pained expression tensing his face once more. “Did hehurtyou? Physically, I mean. Was he violent?”
The concern she saw in him, heard in his voice, it was all the affirmation she needed. At once the tension drained from her limbs. She was used to protecting this detail. To guarding it with everything in her. Telling Detective Lingley and the counselor at the center, that was somehow easier. They’d been strangers at the time, and she knew they could help. But this…this was an entirely new step for her. Admitting, to someone she loved, what she’d allowed into her life.
Ava inhaled a breath of confidence. “Yes.”
And then Richard was rushing in, wrapping his strong arms around her, and ducking his face into her hair. “Good Lord,” he breathed. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
He didn’t sound mad, just confused. And hurt.
“I don’t know,” she admitted. “I was…ashamed, I guess. Or embarrassed that I stayed so long with a guy who hurt me. That I even fell for him in the first place.”
Richard rubbed a reassuring hand over her back. Quiet, strong, supportive.
