Thrown Down (Made in Jersey #2)(40)

River had to stare out the side window a moment. “They’re in the attic, most of the earlier ones. I’ll dig them out.”

“I can do it.” His glance in her direction was rife with meaning. “I’ll be around.”

His focus returned to the road, but she could almost sense the scattering of his thoughts, could see him shift from determined to pensive and back again. Would this man always be a little bit of a mystery to her? Would his mind’s inner workings, when finally confessed, always surprise her somewhat? Not looking at him and wondering was worse—she knew that from experience—but the yearning for total honesty wouldn’t be swept aside, either.

Noticing Marcy had dozed off in her car seat, River leaned her head against the passenger side window and closed her eyes. Last night had been…odd. Her father had shown up on her doorstep out of the blue, holding a present for Marcy. A fishing trip to upstate New York with his old buddies had been his explanation for showing up in Hook. But showing up without warning and without her mother in tow? It was strange, to say the least. And she’d gotten the distinct impression the full picture wasn’t clear yet.

When she’d explained where they were going the following morning—with Vaughn—he hadn’t bothered to disguise his displeasure, his silence on the matter speaking volumes. Without a word, he’d taken River’s set of spare house keys and gone to bed down in the guest room, saying only that he would see her when she got home. Growing up, her family had learned to do things on her father’s time. He rarely explained himself or worried about inconveniencing others. But his sudden arrival at her house seemed to go further than inconsiderate behavior.

River could still recall how uneasy Vaughn had been on those rare occasions when he and her father were in the same place at the same time, while he waited on the porch for her, or they passed her father in town. It was almost like an invisible hostility settled over everything. The timing of his arrival made her nervous, much as she told herself to stop worrying. She and Vaughn were adults now. They made their own decisions, and nothing could affect the new start they were allowing themselves.

Vowing to worry about her father when she got home, River focused on Marcy and Vaughn. The honor he would receive that night. How much it meant to him.

They arrived at the hotel arranged for them through the army administration—far fancier than she’d expected—and found a loaned dress uniform waiting for Vaughn at the front desk, which he’d taken with a smirk. They’d boarded the elevator with Marcy on Vaughn’s shoulders, making it necessary for her to duck down, little arms wrapped around his face. The combination of masculine laughter and little girl giggling floated through River’s mind now as she took her seat with Marcy, in the third row of the ceremony hall.

“Mommy, where’s Vaughn?”

“I don’t know,” River said softly, smoothing her touch down the back of Marcy’s hair. There had been a last minute rehearsal when Vaughn agreed to attend the honoring ceremony, so he’d been forced to jet, garment bag thrown over his shoulder, as soon as they reached the hotel. But she hadn’t missed his reaction to the suite…the second room with the separating door. Or the promise in his eyes as the hotel room door closed behind him.

The answering flutters in River’s stomach still hadn’t subsided…but when Vaughn walked out onto the stage and took a seat, breathing became a laughable aspiration. No way. No way that was the same guy who wore ripped jeans and threadbare T-shirts even in the dead of winter. There was no way to describe him, apart from…heroic. Gorgeous. Male. Slightly agitated by the crowd’s presence, sure, but that only endeared him more to River. Because she could see the taciturn young Vaughn underneath the uniform, and she could see the man he didn’t even yet realize he’d become. And they were both incredible.

Vaughn’s gaze ran over the crowd, hand tugging on the stiff collar of his shirt, the restless movements stilling when their eyes locked. “There’s your daddy,” River whispered to Marcy, without thinking. She didn’t have to think. The words just rolled out, sounding perfect and right and maybe even overdue to her ears.

Marcy tilted her head, bumping cheeks with River. “Daddy.” She whispered the word, smiling wider than River had ever seen. “He’s going to stay a long time?”

River sucked in a breath and let it out slowly. “Yes. He’s staying.”





Chapter Seventeen


Until he’d met River, there had been very few moments Vaughn wanted to remember—to freeze in time and carry around, thawing them out when he needed a fix of something good. Since the moments from his first eighteen years were shitty, he’d been determined to make even worse ones. Block out the pain of being left behind by his parents, by garnering new clips of memorized time. Ones he could control. Getting into fights, stealing cars, drinking. If good moments wouldn’t be forthcoming, he would prove he didn’t need them.

And then he’d seen River in the parking lot outside Hook High, and the memory had frozen itself, without his consent, crystalized in all its perfection, never to be chipped or fogged. Another one had immortalized itself when she’d set her books down on the back bumper of his truck, wet her lips nervously, and kissed him…on the cheek. The way she’d pulled back with brave eyes and hard nipples. Two very different sides of a shiny, new coin he didn’t deserve to have in his pocket, but one that wouldn’t stop turning up, making him wish, making him hope.