Mary opened her mouth to deny it. Then shut things up as Marissa cocked a brow.
As if the boss knew she’d won the argument, Marissa got to her feet and smiled a little. “You’ve always been devoted to your job. But it’s important that Safe Place not take over your life.”
“Yes. Of course. You’re right.”
“I’ll see you at home, later.”
“Absolutely.”
As Marissa left, Mary intended to do as she was told . . . except it was hard to leave. Even after she got her bag and her coat, and texted for Ryhm to come back in if she wouldn’t mind—and the female didn’t—she somehow found reasons to delay heading back out to Rhage’s car again. First, it was turning over a couple of other responsibilities to another staff member; then it was standing at the base of the attic stairs, debating whether or not to tell Bitty.
In the end, Mary decided not to bother the girl and proceeded down to the first floor. She pulled another pause at the front door, but that one didn’t last as long.
When she was finally outside, she breathed deeply and smelled fall in the air.
Just as she was getting into the GTO, she paused and looked up. The light was on in Bitty and her mother’s room, and it was impossible not to imagine that little girl waiting with those packed bags for an uncle who didn’t exist to come and take her away from a reality that was going to follow her around for the rest of her life.
The trip home took forever, but eventually, she pulled the muscle car into a space in the courtyard between Qhuinn’s Hummer II and Manny’s Porsche 911 Turbo.
Staring over at the towering gray stone mansion, with its guard-goyles, as Lassiter called them, and its countless windows, and its slanting slate roofs, she wondered what Bitty would think of the place, and figured the girl would probably be intimidated at first. But as scary as it seemed from outside, the people inside made it cozy and warm as a little cottage.
Across the cobblestones and by the fountain which had already been drained for winter. Up the stone steps. Into the vestibule, where she put her face in the security camera and waited.
Beth was the one who opened things wide, and she was balancing L.W. on her hip. “Oh, hey . . . I was about to call you.”
“Hey, little man.” Mary stroked the boy’s cheek and smiled at him, because how could you not? The baby was a tub of cute, an absolute charmer. “Did you need something, you guys?”
As she stepped into the grand foyer, so that L.W. didn’t catch cold, she stopped when she saw Beth’s expression. “Everything okay?”
“Well, ah . . . so Rhage just went upstairs.”
“Oh? He must be feeling better.”
“I think you need to go talk to him.”
Something in the Queen’s voice really wasn’t right. “Is there something wrong?”
The female focused on her infant, smoothing his dark hair. “I just think you need to go be with him.”
“What happened?” As Beth merely repeated some version of what she’d already said, Mary frowned. “Why aren’t you looking at me?”
Beth’s eyes finally swung over and held. “He just seems . . . upset. And I think he needs you. That’s it.”
“Okay. All right. Thanks.”
Mary crossed the mosaic floor and took the stairs at a jog. When she got to their bedroom, she opened the door—and was hit with a blast of freezing cold air.
“Rhage?” Putting her arms around herself, she shivered. “Rhage? Why are the windows open?”
Trying not to become alarmed, she went across and closed the sash on the left of their enormous bed. Then she went over and shut the other one. “Rhage?”
“In here.”
Thank God, at least he was answering.
Tracking his voice, she went to the bathroom—and found him sitting in the middle of the marble expanse, knees up to his chest, arms linked around his calves, head down and tilted away from her. He was dressed in sweats and as big as ever, but everything about him seemed to have shrunk.
“Rhage!” She rushed across over and crouched beside him. “What’s wrong? Do you need Doc Jane?”
“No.”
With a curse, she stroked back his hair. “Are you in pain?”
When he didn’t answer her or look up, she moved around so that she could see his face. His lids were low and his eyes were unfocused.
He looked as if he had received very bad news.
“Is someone hurt?” One of the Brothers? Layla? Except Beth would have told her that, right? “Rhage, talk to me. You’re scaring me.”
Lifting his head, he rubbed his face and seemed to realize for the first time she was there. “Hey. I thought you were at work?”
“I came home.” And for good reason. What if she had stayed there and he’d been—jeez, Marissa had been so right. “Rhage, what’s going on—wait, did someone hit you?”
His jaw seemed swollen, and there were black and blue marks that showed even through his tanned skin.
“Rhage,” she said with more force. “What the hell happened to you? Who punched you?”
“Vishous. Twice—well, once on each side.”
Recoiling, she cursed. “Dear God, why?”
His eyes traced her features and then he reached up with his fingertips, touching her gently. “Don’t be mad. I deserved it—and he made my sight come back sooner than usual.”
“You’re still not answering my question.” She tried to keep her voice even. “Did you two get in an argument?” opened her mouth to deny it. Then shut things up as Marissa cocked a brow.
As if the boss knew she’d won the argument, Marissa got to her feet and smiled a little. “You’ve always been devoted to your job. But it’s important that Safe Place not take over your life.”
“Yes. Of course. You’re right.”
“I’ll see you at home, later.”
“Absolutely.”
As Marissa left, Mary intended to do as she was told . . . except it was hard to leave. Even after she got her bag and her coat, and texted for Ryhm to come back in if she wouldn’t mind—and the female didn’t—she somehow found reasons to delay heading back out to Rhage’s car again. First, it was turning over a couple of other responsibilities to another staff member; then it was standing at the base of the attic stairs, debating whether or not to tell Bitty.
In the end, Mary decided not to bother the girl and proceeded down to the first floor. She pulled another pause at the front door, but that one didn’t last as long.
When she was finally outside, she breathed deeply and smelled fall in the air.
Just as she was getting into the GTO, she paused and looked up. The light was on in Bitty and her mother’s room, and it was impossible not to imagine that little girl waiting with those packed bags for an uncle who didn’t exist to come and take her away from a reality that was going to follow her around for the rest of her life.
The trip home took forever, but eventually, she pulled the muscle car into a space in the courtyard between Qhuinn’s Hummer II and Manny’s Porsche 911 Turbo.
Staring over at the towering gray stone mansion, with its guard-goyles, as Lassiter called them, and its countless windows, and its slanting slate roofs, she wondered what Bitty would think of the place, and figured the girl would probably be intimidated at first. But as scary as it seemed from outside, the people inside made it cozy and warm as a little cottage.
Across the cobblestones and by the fountain which had already been drained for winter. Up the stone steps. Into the vestibule, where she put her face in the security camera and waited.
Beth was the one who opened things wide, and she was balancing L.W. on her hip. “Oh, hey . . . I was about to call you.”
“Hey, little man.” Mary stroked the boy’s cheek and smiled at him, because how could you not? The baby was a tub of cute, an absolute charmer. “Did you need something, you guys?”
As she stepped into the grand foyer, so that L.W. didn’t catch cold, she stopped when she saw Beth’s expression. “Everything okay?”
“Well, ah . . . so Rhage just went upstairs.”
“Oh? He must be feeling better.”
“I think you need to go talk to him.”
Something in the Queen’s voice really wasn’t right. “Is there something wrong?”
The female focused on her infant, smoothing his dark hair. “I just think you need to go be with him.”
“What happened?” As Beth merely repeated some version of what she’d already said, Mary frowned. “Why aren’t you looking at me?”
Beth’s eyes finally swung over and held. “He just seems . . . upset. And I think he needs you. That’s it.”
“Okay. All right. Thanks.”
Mary crossed the mosaic floor and took the stairs at a jog. When she got to their bedroom, she opened the door—and was hit with a blast of freezing cold air.
“Rhage?” Putting her arms around herself, she shivered. “Rhage? Why are the windows open?”
Trying not to become alarmed, she went across and closed the sash on the left of their enormous bed. Then she went over and shut the other one. “Rhage?”
“In here.”
Thank God, at least he was answering.
Tracking his voice, she went to the bathroom—and found him sitting in the middle of the marble expanse, knees up to his chest, arms linked around his calves, head down and tilted away from her. He was dressed in sweats and as big as ever, but everything about him seemed to have shrunk.
“Rhage!” She rushed across over and crouched beside him. “What’s wrong? Do you need Doc Jane?”
“No.”
With a curse, she stroked back his hair. “Are you in pain?”
When he didn’t answer her or look up, she moved around so that she could see his face. His lids were low and his eyes were unfocused.
He looked as if he had received very bad news.
“Is someone hurt?” One of the Brothers? Layla? Except Beth would have told her that, right? “Rhage, talk to me. You’re scaring me.”
Lifting his head, he rubbed his face and seemed to realize for the first time she was there. “Hey. I thought you were at work?”
“I came home.” And for good reason. What if she had stayed there and he’d been—jeez, Marissa had been so right. “Rhage, what’s going on—wait, did someone hit you?”
His jaw seemed swollen, and there were black and blue marks that showed even through his tanned skin.
“Rhage,” she said with more force. “What the hell happened to you? Who punched you?”
“Vishous. Twice—well, once on each side.”
Recoiling, she cursed. “Dear God, why?”
His eyes traced her features and then he reached up with his fingertips, touching her gently. “Don’t be mad. I deserved it—and he made my sight come back sooner than usual.”
“You’re still not answering my question.” She tried to keep her voice even. “Did you two get in an argument?”