“Okay?” Aaron asked again. “The bullet went straight through, but it managed to miss all his main arteries. He’s gonna be fine.”

“You can’t know that! He needs to get to a hospital.”

“Evie.” Aaron’s voice was low but commanding, and I looked over at him, my eyes wide and frantic, hands hovering helplessly above Riley’s body. “This isn’t the first gunshot wound I’ve seen. I’ve got Doc coming in, but we can’t bring him to the ER. You know that.”

Because if Riley went to the hospital with a gunshot wound, the police would be called. Doc had been the one Gage and Aaron had called to patch me up all those years ago, so I trusted him. Nodding once again, I swallowed and pressed down with both hands while Aaron helped Riley sit up.

Aaron moved to stand, but before he could get far, Riley asked, “Gage? Does he know?”

Aaron was stoic, had always been a blank slate, his poker face impeccable, but I swore the side of his mouth tipped up on one side. “Who do you think called Blaine? As soon as he realized Evie’d been taken, he was getting shit lined up.”

Riley blew out a sigh of relief as Aaron walked to another part of the room, his voice mixing with a couple others, but I couldn’t focus on what they were saying. Couldn’t focus on anything but Riley’s pale face, his forehead beaded with sweat, as his eyes darted to every inch of me that he could see.

“You’re not hurt?” he asked.

“No,” I said, the single word coming out in a croak.

As if he didn’t take my word for it, he swept his eyes along my body, his brows creasing when he got to my chest. Reaching out with his good arm, Riley tugged up the neck of my shirt, the part that Frankie had ripped earlier. When I’d been conscious enough to start fighting. He hadn’t been with me long before Aaron had come in, but it’d been long enough. Long enough for him to backhand me. Long enough for me to break his nose.

“You can show me that pretty bra later,” Riley said. “The rest of these assholes don’t need to see it.”

It was such a Riley thing to say, even as he was sitting there with a fresh bullet wound, that I couldn’t stop the choked laughter from spilling forth.

Riley’s eyes darted down to my mouth, then his lips kicked up at the sides, a small smile forming. “There it is.” He brought his hand up to my face, his thumb running along my cheek. “I’ve been waiting this whole week for you to smile for me like that. If I’d known all it took was a gunshot wound, I might’ve made it happen sooner.”

The smile dropped from my face, thoughts of everything that had happened over the last few hours bombarding me. I didn’t attempt to stop the tears as they welled up and spilled over. “Don’t say that.”

“Hey, it’s okay. I’m okay.” He reached up again, his hand cradling my face as his thumb tried to catch every tear rolling down my cheeks.

“No you’re not! You’re shot, and it’s my fault. Because I got it in my head that I couldn’t be strong and still stay behind. I’m sorry, Riley. I should’ve listened to what you were saying instead of holding so tightly to what I thought I needed to do. I was so worried about you taking any power I had away from me that I couldn’t see past it.”

“Come here,” he said, his voice gruff as he tugged me forward until our noses were mere inches apart. “I don’t ever want to make you feel powerless, Evie. It wasn’t about taking the choice away from you, but about making sure you were out of harm’s way. Making sure you were safe. I didn’t want you anywhere near Max or Frankie again.”

I nodded, closing my eyes as fresh tears ran down my face. I couldn’t stop them, didn’t even try to. I was too relieved that Riley was okay.

“You don’t need to prove your strength to anyone, baby. Least of all me. I know how strong you are. You’ve been through more in your life than everyone else in this room combined. And you’re still standing. That’s pretty strong. That’s pretty fucking amazing.”

I allowed his words to seep into me, letting them wash over my insecurities. I heard him, heard everything he was saying.

I just had to start believing.

Chapter Thirty

Riley’s apartment was so familiar, even though I’d never been here before. It was reminiscent of the place he and Gage had had when we were in high school. The walls were white, stained yellow with age, the carpet a dark brown, no doubt hiding years of stains. A beat-up couch and a giant TV were the only things in the living room.

It was so strange that I felt more at home here, stepping into this space I’d never been, than I had the entire time I’d lived in a beautiful house with Eric.

Riley led the way down the hall, our hands linked between us. He hadn’t let me out of his sight since everything had gone down with Max. Not when Aaron was making calls, barking orders to everyone in the crew who’d been sent out to find me. Not when Aaron had come over to talk to Riley as Doc had patched him up. Not when Blaine offered his gratitude to me for finding the evidence about Max’s embezzlement. Not when we’d crammed in the backseat of Aaron’s car so he could drop us off, since Riley wasn’t going to be able to drive his bike for some time, at least not until his bullet wound healed.

He didn’t say anything as he flipped on the light in his bedroom. His bed was unmade and rumpled, a few pairs of jeans lying on the floor. The room was bare, much like the rest of his place. Riley’s grunt pulled me out of my appraisal of his space, and I turned to see him attempting to tug his shirt over his head.

“What are you doing?” I asked, the reprimand in my tone apparent.

“I’m getting undressed so we can get in the shower.” His eyes flitted up to mine, then focused on the place to the right of my eyes, the place I knew was a matted mess with dried blood. When Frankie had backhanded me earlier, the force had sent me flying, my head glancing off the corner of a table. It still hurt like a bitch. “I can’t stand to look at that on you and think about what he did to you.”

His voice was filled with so much emotion, so much agony, that I couldn’t do anything but nod and follow him into the bathroom. We undressed carefully, our movements only focused on inciting the least amount of pain. Riley’s arm was contained mostly to his side, the barest movement causing his teeth to clench, his wound wrapped in a waterproof bandage at Riley’s request, with more supplies given to us so I could play nurse later.

Once we were under the warm spray, I grabbed the bar of soap and sudsed up my hands then ran them over his chest and arms, giving the area around his bandage a wide berth so I didn’t accidentally get it wet. When I let my hands wander over his abdomen and lower, he grabbed my wrist before I could get to where he was hard for me. He took the soap from me and scrubbed the rest of himself in under a minute.

Then his attention was focused directly on me, and I couldn’t look away.

He switched our positions so my head was under the spray, and I closed my eyes as I let the hot water beat down on me. Using his good arm, he reached up and brushed the hair back from my face, then grabbed the shampoo and poured some directly on my hair before he started working it into a lather. I tried to reach up and help him, knowing how difficult it probably was to do one-handed.

“Let me,” he said, his voice low and gritty. His eyes were concentrated on me, on the wound at my hairline—the one that looked worse than it felt. “If he wasn’t already dead, I’d kill him myself for hurting you.”

And he would, too. Of that I had no doubt. The conviction in his voice just reiterated how much he would do for me. Reiterated that he’d always be there to make sure I was safe. That he’d do anything to see me happy. That I’d never have to go through anything on my own again. Not if I didn’t want to.