Chapter Twenty
Vance woke in the middle of the night to the low rumble of thunder, followed by a flash of lightning and a much closer, louder clap. Must be a big storm passing through for there to be so much noise and light.
He turned over to find a swath of rumpled sheets where Lilith should be, and his heart skipped as another clap of thunder sounded, even closer. Where had she gone?
There was another sound too, this one much quieter but more disturbing. Muffled sobs. He hated that sound.
Yes, he made women cry during scenes sometimes, but that was different. That was catharsis, wiping the slate clean, letting out big feelings that had been stuffed down for too long. He knew those sounds, loved them, prided himself on being able to get his partners to the point where they let go.
These hitching, halting sobs didn’t sound like a release. They echoed with fear and pain and he wasn’t going to lie here and listen to Lilithcrywithout doing something about it. Especially after he’d put her through the wringer like he had earlier.
Of course then he’d cuddled and babied her, got his sleepy puddle of a girl to bed where she’d fallen asleep holding Flaps against his chest within minutes. But still, she had to be freaking exhausted and he was determined to soothe her back to sleep so she could rest.
She might fight him—nah, she’d definitely fight him, probably tell him she’d stuck needles under her fingernails until she cried so her bloodshot and swollen eyes looked like they were from authentic pain. He loved how seriously she took her aesthetic but really, there was such a thing as going too far.
The wood was cold under his feet as he wandered over to the bathroom where a sliver of light shone from under the door. Hurt poked between his ribs that she wouldn’t seek him out when she needed comfort, that she would choose the cold tile floor of the bathroom over his embrace.
But that wasn’t fair. She’d already shared a lot with him and he shouldn’t take that for granted or minimize it. They didn’t actually know each other all that well and Lil could be private. She projected a very specific image because that’s what she wanted people to see, because that was something she could control.
The stifled sobs he heard from behind the door didn’t sound like they were under control at all.
He rapped his knuckles softly against the door, propped his shoulder against the frame while leaning in to hear a potential response over the thunder that was still booming and rolling out in waves. If there was a God, he was sure showing off his percussion section tonight.
“Lil? Y’okay?”
There was some shuffling from the other side of the door. No swearing though, which was surprising because he’d have thought that woman could be getting tortured by the NSA and she’d just spit curses back in their faces. No answer either, so he tried again.
“Lilith? Something wrong? What’s going on?”
Seconds crept by and while the crying wasn’t as continuous as it had been, it hadn’t stopped. Maybe she had her headphones on and was listening to that godforsaken noise she insisted was music? But he didn’t think so because while she hadn’t said anything back, she’d definitely seemed to notice he was there.
“Poppet? I’m worried about you so I’m coming in.”
There was no refusal or sound like a murder of crows hellbent on vengeance coming from the other side of the door, so Vance twisted the knob and pushed the door open slowly just in case she was sitting somewhere she’d get hit by it.
For a second he didn’t see her, and when he did, he almost didn’t recognize her. She’d wedged herself between the vanity and the big tub and she was curled up as small as she could be, shoulders shaking and hands covering her ears while she buried her face in her knees.
Broke his heart to see his sassy, arch, kill-you-with-a-look woman cowering and crying. Even when she was little she’d never looked quite this vulnerable.
In a few steps he was kneeling on the floor in front of her, setting his hands on her quaking shoulders. Pitched his voice to his most soothing daddy tone to ask, “Hey lil bit, what’s going on?”
He’d never called her lil bit anywhere outside his own head before and he was prepared to have to duck so the laser beams coming out of her eyes wouldn’t decapitate him, but there were no laser beams when she tipped up her head to meet his gaze. No, the puffy, red rimmed eyes that connected with his were those of a terrified little girl.
“Thunder, lightning.”
Her little voice was shaky with genuine fear and it took him a second to process. Lilith, queen of darkness, was afraid of thunderstorms? Didn’t matter if it made sense to him or not, though. What mattered is that he had a scared little girl to comfort.
“Thunderstorms can be really loud and scary,” he agreed, even though he loved to sit on his porch and watch the electric bolts light up the sky and send the air sizzling around him. Inhaling the scents of ozone and petrichor made him feel vital and alive after spending hours upon hours bent over papers and staring at screens.
She nodded but didn’t move. Cringed and whimpered when another crack of thunder rent the air.
“It’s okay, baby. Shh. Here, can we go back to bed? It’s cold out here and I bet that tile doesn’t feel so good on your butt.”
Lilith shook her head and her eyes were wild like a cornered animal’s when she said, “No, too scary.”
Too scary? Right. This was the only place in the house with no windows. He had to think fast because he couldn’t stand not holding her for another second, but he wasn’t going to drag a petrified little girl kicking and screaming into his bed. Not unless that was a game they had arranged to play and that was definitely not what was happening here.
Then an idea struck him. He squeezed Lilith’s shoulders and made eye contact with her. “I’ll be right back, I promise.”