Page 116 of Reveal

“Please.”

I hear the deadbolt click, and I step back. Vaughn’s standing there, eyes puffy, hair a mess—the worst I’ve ever seen her but so goddamn beautiful compared to the horrid images in my mind of her bruised and battered.

“Baby, what’s wrong?” My hands are framing her face immediately, because there’s sick and then there’s swollen from crying.

And she’s swollen from crying.

“I’m fine. I thought it was food poisoning, but it’s an allergic reaction. I think. My eyes keep watering and swelling and—”

“Shh. Shh. Shh.” I pull her against me and almost sag with relief when she not only lets me but slides her arms around me and clings tightly. This—her in my arms—is a million times better than listening to her lie to me or letting my imagination about her being bored with me take hold.

Because something is wrong.

Majorly wrong.

But there’s nothing I can do to get it out of her, and holding her like this—her letting me pull her against me—if this is all I can get, then I’ll take it. Anything she needs right now is hers.

Her body shudders as she cries. I can feel the heat of her tears against my chest. The desperation in the grasp of her hands. The defeat in the sag of her posture.

“What’s wrong?” I murmur against the crown of her head, the subtle scent of her shampoo filling my nose.

She just shakes her head and hiccups another sob. My hand smooths down the back of her hair, and the other pulls her against me, the only way I know how to comfort the unknown.

“Vaughn?”

She doesn’t respond.

“I don’t know what’s wrong, baby, but we’ll get through it. You’re not alone anymore. You’ve got me.”

She nods for the first time.

I don’t know how long we stand there on her porch with my arms wrapped around her and her face buried in the underside of my neck, but eventually she steps back. Those aqua eyes of hers are red rimmed and filled with so much confusion, and I hate that there’s not a single goddamn thing I can do to help her since she won’t tell me what’s wrong.

“I’m here, Vaughn. Use me if you need to. Let me help you.”

She just shakes her head as if she doesn’t trust herself to speak.

“Please.”

This time she nods and whispers, “Thank you.”

The door clicks shut, and the deadbolt turns in, all without my ever having stepped foot inside her house.

I don’t know how long I stand there and stare at her door, but I do.

My need to fix and know and take care of her is stronger than my will to leave her to suffer silently through whatever it is that’s troubling her.

Losing Lucy. Something with Brian. Fucking Carter Preston. An issue at Apropos or with Wicked Ways. Maybe all the talk about her uncle has thrown her for a loop.

I wish I knew the answer.

Fuck, how I wish I knew.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

Vaughn

I know Ryker doesn’t leave for a long time. He stands at the door and then sits in his car in the driveway for even longer.