Dark eyebrows went up. “Why does everyone always think I was in the army?”
I shrugged. “You’re big and stand around with perfect posture, glaring at everyone.”
His chest rumbled with a laugh. “I wasn’t in the army. Unless being in Scouts counts?”
“Nope.”
“No? It’s hard work getting all those badges, you know. I was an ace at bushcraft.”
What the heck wasbushcraft?It sounded terrible—like camping, or worse, actual craft. Anything beyond my sorry attempts at knitting—no thank you, sir.
“Are you going to keep avoiding the question?” I asked him.
His smile fading, he nodded. “I moved here to forget that life. You understand wanting a fresh start.”
I did. Oh, how Idid. “Tell me…” I dug deep for every bit of courage to ask the question that hurt the most. “Tell me why you left that night.”
Aiden’s fingers dug into the treatment bed, the tips blanching whiter than the sheets. My eyes darted up. His jaw locked, every line of his face drawn tight, and short, sharp breaths heaved in his chest.
“Geez, was I that much of an ogre?” I joked, trying to steer his thoughts away from whatever was short-circuiting in his mind.
Aiden shot me a desperate look. “It wasn’t you. It had nothing to do with you. I told you, Lola, I’m notright. I wanted—I wish—” He shook his head again as he laboured under breaths that never seemed to reach his lungs. “I wish so much I’d stayed.” His hand started to shake, his fingers digging deeper into the sheets.
He was deteriorating into a full-blown panic attack. Any anger in me vanished. I reached for his unbandaged hand and curled my fingers around his.
“I’m here, Aiden,” I said in a soft, even voice. “I’m right here. You’re safe here with me.”
He blinked panicked eyes. My reassuring smile did nothing to calm him. “Lola… Please…” He shifted on the bed, his muscles primed and taut like he was ready to bolt. “I can’t…”
“Let’s take a big breath and count to ten, okay?”
“Ye-yeah.” He squeezed my hand so tight. “Okay.”
I was surprised when he followed my lead. Slowly counting to ten wasn’t enough. As I counted him through another round and another, my mind never stopped clicking over. Nothing made sense. The same man who’d sat through six stitches and barely flinched had panicked over a memory. He’d told me the truth—somethingwasn’tright about him. But it didn’t scare me away. Instead, worry swelled in my chest.
By the fifth round of counting, Aiden’s breathing returned to normal.
His head hung low. “Sorry.”
“Aiden, have you seen someone about the—”
“No.” He shook his hand free and hopped off the bed. “Just—no. I don’t need more doctors.”
“You need help.”
He grunted some annoyed noise at me and charged for the door.
“Aiden!”I didn’t bother hiding the frustration in my voice. My hands went to my hips. “Can you at least wait to get a prescription for antibiotics before you storm off?”
He paused, his grip firm on the door handle.
“Unless, of course, you’re happy for your hand to fall off from an infection.” I rolled my eyes. “It doesn’t bother me either way. I’ve got both my hands. It’ll be your loss.”
Aiden refused to look at me, but he hovered by the door long enough for me to scrawl out a prescription. I tore it off the pad and held it out. Before he could grab the piece of paper, I pulled it back.
“Aiden, whatever’s wrong… Just know… It doesn’t need to define you.” Was I saying that more for him? Or me? “You don’t need to battle through everything alone.”
His eyes closed, but some of the strain left his face, and for a moment, I wondered if it was the first time he realised he didn’t always need to be strong. He looked at me, his mouth opening, but there was no time for words. Instead, it was the sickening thud of the door cracking against his shoulder that echoed in the quiet room.
