Reveal (Wicked Ways #2)(73)

“And?”

His phone alerts a text.

“Do you need to get that?” I ask.

“Nope.” A run of his hand up and down my arm. “What did she have to say?” There’s caution in his voice.

“She said a detective had a very interesting conversation with you.”

“That’s all she said?”

“Mmm-hmm,” I lie.

His chuckle rumbles through his chest into mine from where I’m sitting against him. “Interesting is the word she used?”

“I believe so.” I look up at him, but he keeps his focus on the city lights beyond. “What made it so interesting?”

“Nothing, really.” He chuckles again, and the sound tells me there was so much more to the conversation than nothing, really. His text alerts again, but he doesn’t even look toward the counter where it sits and carries on.

“Ryker?” What did the detective say? Do you need to get your text? What are we doing here? All three mix in the sound of his name.

“I toyed with him a bit and then made sure that all of Brian’s background was discussed . . . so that it now becomes part of a permanent record child protective services won’t be allowed to ignore. Or a judge, for that matter.” I can hear the pride in his voice. “Now, I know she had to have said more than that. What else did she say, Vaughn?”

“Nothing, really.” I repeat his phrase, silently surprised that he’d think to do any of that, while not wanting to ruin the evening by rehashing the rest of our conversation. How she asked for my version of events between Ryker and Brian. Her questions about how I intend to care for Lucy when I work nights, to which my reply was “The same way parents take care of their kids who work during the day.” Then I went on to outline my plans for school once my debt is paid off, which was met with skeptical silence.

“Now that we’re both telling each other half truths, I have a real one to tell you.”

“Oh?”

“I lied to you.”

My body should tense at his confession, my anger should fire, but it doesn’t. Instead, I sit right where I am in the crook of his arm—where we’re resting against the back of his couch, our feet propped up on a coffee table that I’m sure is way too expensive to have feet on—and just keep my eyes closed.

“About?”

“After Carter went to your house and you begged me not to confront him . . . I did it anyway.”

I don’t speak, because I know there’s more and because I’m not exactly sure how I feel about this. He groans in frustration when his text notification rings out again. I go to stand and get it for him, but he just holds me in place.

“No. Leave it,” he says and presses a kiss to my temple. “I started all of this with Carter, and I knew I needed to be the one to end it.”

“And?” His heavy sigh answers the question I’m afraid to ask. That despite confronting him, Carter didn’t budge on whatever his stance is besides just being a dick.

“I should have told you about it when we talked about him the other night after Belvedere Castle, but I didn’t.” He shrugs and clears his throat. “I realize if I tell you I did it in your best interests—to try to stop the blackmail threat—that it doesn’t matter, because it sounds like a broken record to you. And rightfully so.” He laces his fingers with mine. “You’re a bigger person than he’ll ever be, Vaughn, and it pisses me off to no end. What I did. What he thinks he can do. The fact that he won’t even meet somewhere in the middle.”

“Thank you for trying,” I murmur.

His body jolts. “You’re not mad?”

“I should be. I should tell you it’s my life and who the hell are you to think you can interfere without my consent. I should be mad at myself for being too blasé when your actions have risked so much for me . . . but I’m so sick of being mad, Ryker. I’m so tired of worrying and wondering and missing you.”

“Vaughn—”

“You want to be with me even with my flaws and all the crazy outside factors that keep affecting us. You still want to fight for me. You still want to stand up for me. Yes, I should be mad at you, but I’m so tired of being mad that sometimes I just want to be with you.”

“Just like you don’t deserve any of this bullshit going on, I don’t deserve you.”

“I guess that’s why we’re works in progress,” I murmur, a soft smile on my lips for the first time.

“You know, if I could take all of this away for you, I would.”

I nod but don’t speak, because I don’t want any conditions on our unspoken love. I don’t want there to be strings that make me obligated to repay or regret the things he’s tried to do for me.

But that’s what love is, Vaughn. Protecting what’s yours. Loving without fault. Celebrating the flaws. That is love. I can all but hear my mom’s voice. It’s so crystal clear—so her—that my breath catches.

“Thank you.”

I love being with you.

I love being just like this with you—relaxed, without expectations, without pretenses.

I love you.

I wait for the panic to come, and it doesn’t.

“You owe me a hundred bucks, you know,” he murmurs with a laugh, the heat of his breath warming the crown of my head, as his bet on the phone comes full circle.