Page 30 of Promised Vows

Ari’s home was his sanctuary. This wasn’t a place he blasted out for public gatherings. I’d been too ticked to even look around the first day. It’d taken a full twenty-four hours to even peel myself off my current spot and check the place out. It was filled with warm colors and tasteful furniture, and decorated in a way that filled me with peace.

The guest bedroom I’d claimed was exquisite. Soft linens covered the bed, and the first time I laid down, I could have sworn I’d died and gone to heaven. The mattress was squishy and comfortable, and compared to my bed, massive. I couldn’t even reach the ends fully stretched out. I knew because I’d tried. If I were being honest, I loved his home. That didn’t mean I wanted to be cooped up in it. However, there were worse places to be.

Even if I wanted to pummel Ari, there was no way I could destroy his sanctuary.

Not right now. I promise when I’m home, I’ll text you. Maybe you could come over and we could have dinner. Catch up.

All right. I’ll take your word that you’re safe and I would love to catch up. I’ve missed you. I can’t wait to hear about all the things you’ve done.

Okay, talk soon.

I let the phone drop to my chest and stared at the smooth cream ceiling. How could anyone fault me for wanting to have a relationship with my father? I was in the middle of trying to answer that when another thought hit me.

As frustrating as Ari could be, at least he was here. Present. Trying, in his own complicated way. Unlike Papa, who'd left me wondering and waiting for years. The realization made me uncomfortable. I wasn't ready to admit that Ari's constant, if sometimes frustrating, presence might be more dependable than Papa's promises.

I shifted on the couch, trying to shake off the unsettling comparison. That's when the distinct sound of a key being forced into a lock caught my attention and I sat up.

When the door opened, a ragged-looking Ari shuffled inside and shut the door behind him. He was filthy. He’d had a suitcoat when he left, but now it was missing. His untucked white button-up was trashed, and I could see a slash on his thigh through one of the cuts in his pants.

My heart leapt into my throat, a surge of concern washing over me. All my earlier anger evaporated in an instant, replaced by an overwhelming need to help him. I was on my feet before I realized I'd moved, halfway to him when I stopped myself. That wasn't dirt on his shirt. There were blood stains on it. What on earth had happened to him?

Despite my lingering frustration with the situation, all I wanted was to take away his pain. The sight of him so battered and vulnerable stirred something deep within me, something I wasn't quite ready to name.

"Ari?" My voice came out softer than I'd intended, laced with worry I couldn't hide.

His gaze dipped to the hand with my ring finger, over to the coffee table, and returned, our eyes meeting. He had the same heart-wrenching look he’d given me in the limo. The one that had haunted my dreams the last four days.

Pain laced his expression as he took a step and stumbled. “I need to get cleaned up, but I have to take a second and sit down.”

I strode to him as he attempted to take another step. When I put my arm around his waist, he went rigid.

“A little lower if you could.” Each word was saturated with pain.

Nodding, I settled my hand around his hip and helped him to the couch. He held his breath as he braced his hand on the arm and slowly lowered himself. His eyes closed as soon as his head touched the back of the couch.

“I think you need a doctor.”

“No, no doctor. Some sleep. After getting cleaned up.”

Now that I was closer, I was even more shocked at his condition. I didn’t know where to begin. Had he fought an army?

There was a jagged slice over the bridge of his nose, and dried blood was caked around it. There was more dried blood on the corners of his mouth, and it was split in two places. Ari’s knuckles looked like hamburger meat. It seemed like someone had taken a knife to the left side of his shirt as clean as the cut was. A long, shallow cut and the beginnings of a bruise were visible through it. It matched the one that covered the right side of his jaw.

His eyes cracked open a fraction. “You didn’t die of boredom?”

“No, but I came pretty close,” I said as I kneeled on the couch facing him.

He started to laugh, and his breath caught while one arm wrapped around his middle. “I’m glad you’re still in the land of the living.” His labored breath brought tears to my eyes. My guy was hurt. It wasn’t lost on me that I’d thought my. I wasn’t ready to think about what that meant either.

The longer he remained seated, the less labored he sounded. He took a shallow inhale. “If I stay seated, I’m not going to be able to get up.”

“Do you want to take a bath or a shower?” I asked, wondering if he could do either. Given how haggard and exhausted he appeared, I wasn’t sure he could.

“I’ll decide when I get there.”

He peeled himself off the couch, pausing as he braced his hand on the arm. His features were strained while his lips pressed tight.

I couldn’t stand it. He was my knight. Kneeling in front of him, I took his face in my hands. Haunted eyes stared back at me. I wanted to kiss away his pain, make him whole and unblemished. “Tell me how I can help you.”

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