“No.” She shook her head. “I hated it when you were quiet. When I couldn’t figure out what you would do or say next, or what you were thinking about.”
“You.” He swallowed, berating himself for the slip but unable to hold everything inside when she—the one who haunted him every moment of the day—was right there. “It was always about you.”
River shot him a stormy look, before unfolding her legs and sliding off the hood, making it necessary for Vaughn to swallow a groan. Hadn’t he taken her once on that hood? Yes. He had, but she’d been facing the windshield. Jesus. “Why are you here, Vaughn? I already said everything that needed to be said this morning.”
Hell if I can stay away. I never could. “I didn’t like how lonely you looked sitting here.” Based on her startled expression, he’d said way too much. Again. “Just thought I’d give you some company.”
A car passed behind them on the street, music blaring through the rolled down windows, while River watched him. “I meant, why exactly are you in Hook?” She lifted a hand and let it drop. “Coming back here…what are you hoping to accomplish?”
There was too much history between them. Good, bad, and ugly. Lying was useless where River was concerned, and with her raising their child alone, the respect he’d already felt toward her had increased tenfold. “I heard you loud and clear this morning. About my leaving. I’ll own that. But I’m Marcy’s father, and I deserve the chance to meet her.” He stepped closer, a ruthless shot of pain spearing him in the chest when she edged away. “On your terms, River. Your terms.”
Her nose started to turn red, a sure sign she was getting upset. Lord, he hadn’t considered the prospect of her crying. The last time he’d made her cry, forty-nine months’ worth of nightmares and cold sweats had been born. Please not again.
“What am I supposed to tell her? Who are you?” She blew out a breath. “If I tell her the truth, she’ll be crushed when you go away.”
When, not if. She’d really been stripped of all her faith in him. “I can just be a friend.” He would have said anything in that moment to avoid seeing River cry. Anything. And it was too soon to let her know he wasn’t going any damn where. As soon as he’d left the church this morning, he’d called his employer and given notice.
“A friend,” River repeated, her brow furrowing. “I want to say no, but…I can’t imagine never knowing her. I hate being the one standing between you and the best part of my life.”
“I know that, doll,” he managed through his tightening throat. “I know.”
She rolled her lips inward, wetting them. “I just need to think about it.”
His fingers shook with the need to tuck a stray blonde hair back into her ponytail, so he shoved them into his jeans. “All right. You know where I’m staying.”
Blue eyes went wide. “The motel?”
“There’s only one in town,” Vaughn returned softly, loathing the haunted quality of her voice. “I’m not in our room, though.”
“Our room.” She sounded distant, her attention on something invisible over his shoulder. “I went back there once, when I was pregnant with Marcy. It sort of…I don’t know. I felt you in the room. I assumed you would just know about the baby after I’d been there. Isn’t that dumb?”
An invisible rope tried to rip his heart out through his mouth. Especially when River seemed to realize what she’d said out loud, both of her cheeks flaming bright pink.
“No,” he said hoarsely. “No, that wasn’t dumb. You’ve never done anything dumb in your life, except getting hooked up with me.”
She gave him that reproving look he remembered so well. The one that had always flipped his self-loathing on its head because at least River saw his worth. But it must have been muscle memory or reflex, since it faded from her features just as quickly as it appeared. “I…” She visibly shook herself, moving around to the car’s driver side and opening the door. “I have a picture. Of Marcy. That’ll have to be enough for now.”
Pulse pounding in his ears, Vaughn watched through the windshield as she lifted the console compartment and took something out. When she climbed back out of the car, Vaughn had moved without realizing it to meet her.
And when River placed the photograph in Vaughn’s hand, the ground shifted beneath his feet.
…
Don’t cry. God, whatever you do, don’t cry.
This couldn’t be the monumental moment she wanted it to be. Maybe if Vaughn had come back to Hook when she was pregnant, or when Marcy had been an infant, River could have allowed this moment, this presenting of a child’s image to her father for the first time, to mean something important. But it was far too late now. She’d wept her tears and pined for Vaughn’s return. She’d seen the bottom of despair, and it was a painful, lonesome place.