Page 141 of Reveal

“Of course,” I finally say when I collect my cool enough to be able to speak. “Of course.”

CHAPTER FORTY-NINE

Vaughn

Al doesn’t drive very far before everything hits me.

Six blocks maybe before the tears come.

All of them.

The scared-shitless ones.

The self-pity ones.

The I-was-almost-raped ones.

The ones for the concern on Ryker’s face when he looks at me.

I’m lying across the rear seat of the town car, my palms on the leather, my face on the backs of my hands as my shoulders heave and my soul hurts.

And I cry for what almost happened and what could have happened.

I cry for things I never had and things I never knew I wanted but now have.

I don’t know how long I sob, but I don’t care.

Al closes the divider at some point to allow me my privacy. To allow me to grieve.

Both needed for me to realize that I have so very much to live for.

And when I’m done, when the tear tracks are stiff on my cheeks and my breath hitches every few seconds and my cheekbone aches like a bitch . . . Al pulls into my driveway with perfect timing.

CHAPTER FIFTY

Ryker

“Anything else, Mr. Lockhart?” Bella looks at me hesitantly as she sets the files I asked for on the edge of my desk.

My shirt’s ripped, and there’s blood on my knuckles. I’m sure I look like a fucking wreck.

“No. Thank you.” I start to sort through the rest of the shit I need to bring, and when I look back up, she’s still standing there with her notepad clutched to her chest and huge eyes like Dorothy facing down the wizard. “Yes?”

“Is she okay? Is Ms. Sanders okay?”

My hands still for the first time since I stormed in here barking orders. Her question is the same one I’ve asked myself on repeat. “She’ll be okay, yes. It might take a while, but I’ll do everything in my power to make sure she is.”

“Good. I’m glad. I like her.” Her smile is cautious, as she never opines on anything about my personal life. “Would you like me to order some flowers or food via Instacart or anything to be delivered to her house so she doesn’t have to leave?”

My head spins with the suggestions. “Can you ask me that later, Bella? Right now I’m having a hard time focusing on anything other than getting to her.”

“Of course.”

“Thank you. They’re good ideas . . . I just can’t . . . thank you.”

“Maybe you should—” She points to the box under the credenza. “Maybe you should bring her those things back. A reminder of good memories . . . or not.”

“Thanks for your help, Bella. That’s all.” I don’t look up. Can’t. Too much shit in my head. Too much emotion on my face. Too much vulnerability for the guy who’s always an asshole.