Beth skidded to a halt.
Rhage was seated by himself at the table and had L.W. up on his shoulder, the baby nestled in close to his neck, that huge arm cradling the infant with all the protectiveness any parent could have shown. The Brother was staring straight ahead over his half-eaten display of carbs and nearly-consumed pot of coffee.
Tears were rolling down his face.
“Rhage?” Beth said softly. “What’s wrong?”
Putting the tape roll on the counter, she padded over to the pair of them—and when he didn’t acknowledge her, she laid her fingertips on his shoulder. And still he didn’t respond.
She spoke a little louder. “Rhage—”
He jerked and looked at her in surprise. “Oh, hey. Is your hand okay?”
The male didn’t seem to be aware of his emotions. And for some very sad reason, it seemed appropriate that he was surrounded by the chaos of his meal, open sleeves of bagels and bread scattered across the rough, wooden table, sticks of butter and blocks of cream cheese and smeared napkins all around him.
He was, in this quiet moment, as undone as everything before him.
Kneeling down, she touched his arm. “Rhage, sweetheart, what’s going on?”
“Nothing.” The smile that hit that handsome face was empty. “I stopped him from crying.”
“Yes, you did. Thank you.”
Rhage nodded. And then shook his head. “Here, I should give him back now.”
“It’s okay,” she whispered. “Hold him as long as you like. He really trusts you—I’ve never seen him settle for anyone but Wrath or me.”
“I, ah … I patted him on the back. You know. Just like you guys do.” Rhage cleared his throat. “I’ve been watching you with him. You and Wrath.”
Now he resumed staring across the empty kitchen.
“Not in a creepy way,” he tacked on.
“Of course not.”
“But I’ve been…” He swallowed hard. “I’m crying. Aren’t I.”
“Yes.” Reaching out, she took a paper napkin from a holder. “Here.”
Rising to her full height, she dried under his beautiful teal blue eyes—and thought of the first time she’d met him. It had been at her father, Darius’s, old house. Rhage had been stitching himself up at one of the bathroom sinks, working the thread and needle through his own skin as if it were no big deal.
This is nothing. It’s when you can use your lower intestine for a belt loop that you have to see the pros.
Or something to that effect.
And then she remembered later, after the beast had come out of him and he’d had to lie down in her father’s underground bedroom to recover. She had given him his Alka-Seltzer and soothed him in his blindness and discomfort as much as she could.
How far they had both come.
“Can you tell me what’s wrong?”
She watched as his palm went in circles over L.W.’s little back.
“Nothing.” His lips stretched into what he clearly meant to be another smile. “Just enjoying a quiet time with your amazing son. You’re so lucky. You and Wrath are so lucky.”
“Yes, we are.”
She had almost died delivering L.W., and in order to save her life, they’d had to remove her uterus. No more biological children for her—and yes, that was a disappointment. But every time she stared into the face of her son, she was so grateful for him that the fact that she wasn’t going to be able to chance the lottery again didn’t seem like much of a loss at all.
Rhage and Mary, though? They weren’t even going to get the opportunity to try. And that was clearly what was on Rhage’s mind right now.
“I should give him back to you,” the brother said once more.
Beth swallowed hard. “Take as much time as you need.”
Back at Safe Place, Mary had just finished posting a message on Facebook about Bitty’s hypothetical uncle when there was a knock on her door.
Maybe it was the girl, and they could give the talking thing another try. But probably not—
“Come in,” Mary said. “Oh, hey! Marissa, how are you?”
Butch’s mate looked drop-dead beautiful as always, her blond hair down and curling perfectly on her slender shoulders as if it had been trained in good manners and wouldn’t think of frizzing out. Dressed in a black cashmere sweater and sleek black slacks, she was like the female Rhage in a lot of ways—too physically exquisite to actually exist.
And like Rhage, the outside wasn’t nearly as lovely as the inside.
With a Vogue-worthy smile, Marissa sat in the creaky chair on the other side of the desk. “I’m okay. More importantly, how are you?”
Mary eased back, crossed her arms over her chest, and thought, ah, so this was not a social visit.
“I guess you’ve heard,” she murmured.
“Yes.”
“I swear, Marissa, I had no idea it was going to be that bad.”
“Of course you didn’t. Who could have?”
“Well, just as long as you know that I didn’t mean for things to go the way they did—”
Marissa frowned. “I’m sorry, what?”
“When Bitty and I went to see her mother—”
“Wait, wait.” Marissa put up her palms. “What? No, I’m talking about Rhage getting shot on the battlefield. And your saving his life in front of the Brothers.”
Mary popped her brows. “Oh, that.”
“Yes … that.” A strange look entered Marissa’s eyes. “You know, frankly, I’m not sure why you came in tonight. I thought you’d be home with him.”
“Oh, well, yes. But with everything that’s going on with Bitty, how could I not come in? And besides, I spent all day with Rhage, making sure he was okay. While he continues to sleep at the clinic, I wanted to check on her. God … the idea that I made things worse for that girl makes me feel horrible. I mean, I’m sure you know what happened.”
“You mean at Havers’s? Yes, I do. And I can understand your being upset. But I really think you should have stayed with Rhage.”
Mary waved a casual hand. “I’m fine. He’s fine—”
“And I think you should go home now.”
With a sudden shot of dread, Mary sat forward. “Wait, you’re not firing me because of Bitty, are you?”
“Oh, my God—no! Are you kidding me? You’re the best therapist we have!” Marissa shook her head. “And I wouldn’t presume to tell you how to do your job here. But it’s pretty clear that you’ve had a long twenty-four hours, and however much you want to be there for the girl in a professional capacity, you’re going to be even more effective if you’ve had some R-and-R.”
“Well, that’s a relief.” She sat back. “The not-getting-fired part, that is.”
“Don’t you want to be with Rhage?”
“Of course I do. I’m just really worried about Bitty. It’s crisis time, you know? The loss of her mother is not just a tragedy that leaves her orphaned, it’s a huge trigger point for everything else. I just … I really want to make sure she’s okay.”
“You’re a dedicated therapist, you know that.”
“She keeps talking about an uncle?” As Marissa frowned again, Mary reopened Annalye’s file and flipped through the pages. “Yeah, I know, right? I hadn’t heard about one before now, either. And I went through everything we have on either of them and there’s no mention of any family. I just put up a post for the race on that closed page on Facebook? I’ll see if I can find him that way.” Mary shook her head as she stared at an entry that had been written by Rhym. “Part of me wonders whether or not I could get the phone records for here to see what calls have gone in and out over the last month? Maybe there’s something there? No mail has been returned here. And as far as I know, Bitty’s mom never used e-mail.”
When there was a period of silence, Mary looked up—and found that her boss was staring at her with an inscrutable expression.
“What?” Mary said.
Marissa cleared her throat. “I admire your commitment. But I think it’s best that you take at least the rest of tonight off. A little distance to refocus is best. Bitty will be here tomorrow and you can continue to be her primary staff member.”