Blood Vow (Black Dagger Legacy #2)(33)

Bitty’s voice grew strident. “Put the casts on and we’ll go. But we want to be together.”

Rhage closed his lids even though it didn’t change how much he couldn’t see. The last thing the girl needed to worry about was him— “You got it, Bit,” Vishous affirmed. “That’s why I asked for Fritz to come.”

“I have to take care of my father.”

“Of course you do.” Vishous was talking in as gentle a way as he ever did. “And you got it right, kid. He’ll do better with you.”

No, Rhage thought. He was supposed to support Bitty.

This was a total fucking nightmare.

But at least things moved fairly quickly after that. Havers cleared a path and rolled in a portable X-ray machine, and the image confirmed the thighbone was where it needed to be. Then there was a flour-and-water kind of smell as fiberglass casts were put on both of Bit’s legs and her arms. Rhage refused to leave her, staying on the hard wet floor until everything was dealt with.

And then they were off.

Bit had a wheelchair. He was a slab of meat on a gurney. And the grim entourage of Z, V, and Lassiter fell in step behind Mary.

Talk about the halt and the lame.

“Hey, Rhage?” Lassiter said softly.

“What?” he mumbled.

“If your career as a trained killer doesn’t work out? Don’t go into interior design. You don’t have a knack for it.”

Rhage had to laugh. “You are such a fucker.”

“Yeah, and you’re a good male. Even if you just caused about two hundred grand of damage back there. Don’t worry, I think we can write it off your taxes. You know, as a demolition deduction.”

There was a squeeze of his shoulder and then Rhage sensed the angel fade back. Taking a deep breath, it was a case of holding it together until he and Mary could get some privacy.

Then he’d fall apart.

Onto an elevator. Slow rise. Slight jerk as they came up to the surface.

The cold, dry air of the night was fantastic in his lungs, but it did nothing to relieve the ache in his chest. And he and Bit both moaned and groaned as they were moved, by other people, into the back of Fritz’s S600 4Matic.

Which was brutal for Rhage and not just because every joint and straightaway of his body was killing him.

He wanted to be the one lifting Bitty up and settling her in the back bucket seat. He should have been folding up the wheelchair and putting it in the trunk. He needed to offer support to her as they bumped their way over to the paved road.

It was he who should be carrying her up to her room when they got to the mansion.

“Rhage?”

As Mary said his name, he looked in the direction of the front of the sedan. “Yeah?”

“You ready?”

“Yeah.”

Or at least those were the words they spoke. What they had actually communicated was: Rhage, I know you’re not doing well. Can you make it home so we can talk about it then? I’m really worried about you and I’d go into it here and now, but I’m aware that you don’t want to do that kind of thing in public.

Oh, God, Mary, this was horrible. I feel awful. Will you still love me even if I’m the worst father on the face of the earth and I never, ever get any better at it?

You are not the worst father. We all have limitations, and we all have things that we wish might have gone better. But please remember. Being a dad is a lifelong commitment and you’re just starting out. Don’t generalize, okay?

As the car started to move, Rhage took a deep breath and—

Bitty reached across the seat and took his hand. “Thanks for coming with me.”

He turned his head. “What?”

“It meant a lot to me that you came—and that you were in the room with me.”

Rhage recoiled. “Bitty … no offense, but I made everything worse. I mean, I trashed the place.”

“I never could have done that last one without you.” Her voice was both shy and lovely. “You know … my birth sire? He never did anything like that for me. He never … he didn’t even want me to go to the clinic. You know, even though I was hurt.…” She cleared her throat. “So thank you. You’re the best father ever.”

And then her head went down on his shoulder.

Tears welled into his eyes, stinging them, and making him blink in the midst of his blindness.

“Bitty?”

“Yes?”

He squeezed her little hand and cleared his throat. “You want ice cream when we get home?”

“Yes, please. Mint chocolate chip? We can all have some. We’ll get three spoons.”

Closing his eyes, he couldn’t believe how powerful Bitty’s forgiveness was. He felt positively resurrected, while at the same time, he couldn’t fathom the generosity. How could this little girl accept him even though he hadn’t been the Gibraltar he’d intended on being?

He’d been far closer to Godzilla.

From up in front, he could sense Mary staring at them both. And then his female murmured, because she always said the right thing at the right time, “Isn’t it wonderful not to have to be perfect to be loved?”

“Yes,” Rhage replied roughly. “And three spoons sounds like heaven to me.”