4. Chapter Four
Vaughn
“ Didn’t I ask you to get this checked yesterday? What were you then doing in the three hours you were gone?” I say, watching her face.
Today, she looks almost breathtaking. At the back of my mind, I always knew she was a beautiful woman, but it’s stark and glaring now, making it hard to look away. The way the lip gloss gives her lips a wet, exciting invite.
“I . . . I was tired. I slept off when I got home.”
“You were supposed to go straight to the hospital,” I carry on scolding her as I finish wrapping her hand. She winces as I wrap the gauze around her hand. I try as gently as I can, but she yelps from time to time, complaining about the tenderness.
We are still at it when Nicholas walks into the room with a bag slung over his shoulder. He smiles in our direction as if experiencing a blissful moment. I became aware of the close distance between Rachel and me. Slowly, I moved away from Rachel and drop her hand.
“What?” I bark at him, irritated by the smile on his face.
“The jet is flying back to New York.”
“Are all the bags loaded?”
“Yes,” he replies, nodding aggressively.
“Alright,” I say, waving my hand and dismissing him.
I turn back to Rachel, who is inspecting her bandaged hand and poking it with a finger.
“Stop doing that. You are going to make it swell even more. Let’s go.”
The morning air bites as we walk toward the jet, the sky just beginning to lighten with streaks of soft pink and orange. My body feels like it’s made of lead. Every muscle screams, and my eyes burn. I am back on my cane, my knees burning. I had hoped that moving them a little would help loosen the taunt muscles and tendons, but now, it is even worse than before.
Rachel catches up to me, and she eyes me from head to toe, her eyes pausing for a while on my knee.
“You know, a day spent resting isn’t a day wasted.” I can see the glint of mischief in her eyes as she moves past me, walking ahead as if mocking me for moving slowly. A smile creeps up my face. I am not sure why, but I find it funny that she has just insulted me with a single sentence. My heart flutters with that brief interaction, and I suddenly feel giddy.
My eyes rest on her backside as it sways in front of me. She is wearing a rather short gown, and her legs are gleaming. The way her butt bounces with each step makes the blood rush down to my groin. I look away instantly, afraid of having a boner.
Get a hold of yourself, Vaughn.
The cabin is quiet when we step inside. I let out a breath and drop into one of the leather seats, immediately closing my eyes and feeling the weight of exhaustion dragging me down.
The pilot’s voice booms over the speaker, and I secure myself with the seat belt. The plane starts up with a soft hum, which I find rather soothing. I let my head fall back against the seat.
In a few hours, we will be back in New York and back to business. A few hours of sleep is needed. I shut my eyes firmly and recline further into my seat. I’m just starting to drift off when I hear Rachel’s voice—soft but firm, whispering.
“Yes, I’ll need to cancel the meeting for this afternoon. Mr. Vaughn is unavailable today, sorry. We’ll have to reschedule. How about next week?”
I crack one eye open and see Rachel speaking into her phone.
“Who is that, and what are you rescheduling?” I mumble.
Rachel jumps slightly, not expecting me to be awake. She turns toward me, her phone still at her ear. “Mr. Devon was requesting a video conference once we land. Seeing your condition, I’m not sure you need that right now,” she says simply, covering the mouthpiece of the phone for a moment.
I want to say something, to tell her not to make decisions on my behalf, but I blink instead and adjust in my seat. She’s not wrong. I try to shut my eyes again when her phone starts to buzz again.
“Ugh! Shut it down. Who is it?”
“Your mother.”
My eyes fly open, and I look at Rachel, who is staring at the screen, her thumb hovering over the Decline button.
“Wait,” I say, surprising both of us. “I’ll talk to her.”
Rachel hands me the phone, her brows raised in mild surprise, and I swipe to answer.
“Vaughn, darling,” my mother’s voice flows through the line, smooth and controlled as if she’s always on stage. “It’s been too long since we’ve spoken.”
“Yeah, I’ve been busy,” I say, keeping my voice neutral.
“Busy,” she repeats, her tone making the word sound like an accusation. “Too busy for your own family?”
I pinch the bridge of my nose, already feeling the headache forming. “Mom, you know what it’s like. I’m managing the team, handling sponsorship deals, and—”
“And neglecting the people who matter most,” she cuts me off, her voice tightening. “Vaughn, I understand your career is important, but so is your family. When was the last time you visited? When was the last time you called your father?”
I glance at Rachel out of the corner of my eye. She’s pretending not to listen, but I can tell she’s catching every word. Her face is calm, but there’s a flicker of something—judgment, maybe?—in her expression. I grit my teeth, irritated by the entire situation.
“I’ve been busy,” I repeat, my voice harder now. “I’ll call him when I have time.”
“You always say that.” My mother sighs, and I can picture her shaking her head in the disapproving way she does. “It’s always ‘when you have time,’ Vaughn. At some point, you have to make time.”
“Mom, I have to go. Once I get the chance, I’ll give you a ring,” I say abruptly, wanting to end it as I can feel a throbbing headache behind my eyes. “I’m traveling right now and exhausted.”
“You had better. Goodbye, Vaughn,” she says, and the line goes dead.
I hand the phone back to Rachel, my jaw clenched. She takes it without a word, but I catch that look on her face again, the one she’s trying to hide. Her lips press into a thin line, her eyes flicking away from me too quickly.
“What?” I snap more harshly than I intended.
She shakes her head, looking down at her phone. “Nothing.”
But I can tell it’s not nothing—she is definitely judging me. I recline in my seat and shut my eyes.
Does she really think I am that terrible a person? She doesn’t know anything about my mother—if only she did. Not that it matters.
With that, I drift into a deep slumber.