"Don't." I pull my sleeve down. Slide off the stool. "I need to go."
"Robin, please—"
"It's my job, Vaughn. It's my job and my life and you don't get to have an opinion about how I survive it just because—" I stop myself beforejust because we're sleeping togethercomes out again. That one drew blood last time and I can't watch it land twice. "I need to go."
I leave. He lets me. I feel his eyes on my back the whole way to the door and I don't turn around because if I turn around I'll see his face and his face will tell me the truth and I'm not ready for the truth.
The drive to Ash's is a blur. I park. Sit in the Audi with the engine off. The bruise throbs under my sleeve.
My phone buzzes.
Vaughn:Sleep well.
I press the phone against my forehead and close my eyes.
He's right. I know he's right. Sarah's right and Toby's right and everyone who's told me this isn't normal is right, and I've spent too many years building a version of reality where this is fine because the alternative — that I've been letting someone hurt me and calling it a career — is too much to hold.
I don't text back. Not tonight.
Tomorrow. I'll deal with it tomorrow.
I go inside and take a shower so hot it turns my skin pink and I don't look at the bruise. I get in bed. I don't sleep.
At 2 AM, I pick up the phone.
Can I see you tomorrow?
Vaughn, immediately:Yeah.
Nothing else. No lecture. No conditions. Justyeah, at 2 AM, without hesitation.
I hold the phone against my chest and stare at the ceiling and wish I was the kind of person who could ask for help.
I'm not. Not yet.
But Vaughn isn't going anywhere. He said so. And my lion-man doesn't lie.
Chapter 14
Vaughn
I go to Ash.
Not to Knox — Knox would want to handle it as alpha, make it pride business, and Robin would never forgive me for that. Not to Toby — Toby already knows and has been trying for months. Not to Jason, who would want to fix it with food and comfort and would accidentally make Robin feel smothered.
Ash. Because Ash is Robin's brother and because Ash is the kind of man who understands threats, and because Ash told me weeks agodon't push him, but don't stop watching,and the watching has turned up something I can't ignore.
Ash's kitchen. Jason's at the bar prepping for lunch. Robin is at work. I couldn't sleep, because every time I closed my eyes I saw that bruise, pan-handle-shaped and vivid against his skin.
Ash is at the table. Coffee. Phone. The quiet alertness of a man whose body still thinks dawn is late.
"We need to talk about Robin," I say.
He sets his phone down. "Sit."
I sit. I tell him what I've seen — not just the bruise, all of it. The pattern I've been tracking for weeks. The good days and bad days. The flinch when his phone buzzes. The way he makes himself smaller when Gordon calls. The texts to Toby that I'm not supposed to know about, where Robin tells the truth he won't tell me but Toby has shown them to me anyway. The fondant in the trash. The tart shells. The last-minute schedule changes designed to keep Robin off-balance and exhausted and grateful.
"And yesterday," I say, "Gordon threw a sauté pan and it hit Robin's arm. Left a bruise the shape of the handle."