Page 100 of Reveal

“Thank you for trying,” I murmur.

His body jolts. “You’re not mad?”

“I should be. I should tell you it’s my life and who the hell are you to think you can interfere without my consent. I should be mad at myself for being too blasé when your actions have risked so much for me . . . but I’m so sick of being mad, Ryker. I’m so tired of worrying and wondering and missing you.”

“Vaughn—”

“You want to be with me even with my flaws and all the crazy outside factors that keep affecting us. You still want to fight for me. You still want to stand up for me. Yes, I should be mad at you, but I’m so tired of being mad that sometimes I just want to be with you.”

“Just like you don’t deserve any of this bullshit going on, I don’t deserve you.”

“I guess that’s why we’re works in progress,” I murmur, a soft smile on my lips for the first time.

“You know, if I could take all of this away for you, I would.”

I nod but don’t speak, because I don’t want any conditions on our unspoken love. I don’t want there to be strings that make me obligated to repay or regret the things he’s tried to do for me.

But that’s what love is, Vaughn. Protecting what’s yours. Loving without fault. Celebrating the flaws. That is love. I can all but hear my mom’s voice. It’s so crystal clear—so her—that my breath catches.

“Thank you.”

I love being with you.

I love being just like this with you—relaxed, without expectations, without pretenses.

I love you.

I wait for the panic to come, and it doesn’t.

“You owe me a hundred bucks, you know,” he murmurs with a laugh, the heat of his breath warming the crown of my head, as his bet on the phone comes full circle.

“I do?”

“Yep. Here we are. Together and perfectly fine. No crazy revealed. No chaos ensued. You bet me a hundred bucks last night that this wasn’t possible.”

“Then I guess that means we just have to stay in this little bubble surrounding your tower over the city and never leave.”

“You might get bored with me.”

“I’ve got some time yet.”

I turn and tilt my face up to his. He looks as tired as I feel. His lips meet mine in a tender kiss before I snuggle up against him even closer.

His phone alerts again.

“I think you need to get that. Someone really wants to get ahold of you.”

“It’s just Leo.”

“Who’s Leo?”

“My friend I stood up tonight.”

“Ryk—”

I try to move to look at him, but he just holds me in place. “Shh. No. I’d rather spend the night with you than him any day of the week.”

My struggle subsides as my heart melts. This man of epic screwups, a hard-ass with a soft heart, a knight in training . . . owns my heart. How did I ever think I could fight this?