“Okay, this hand here”—he guided my hand to rest on his shoulder—“and mine goes here.” His big palm anchored on my back. Apprehension clouded his eyes, and he whispered, “Is this…okay? Not too close?”
I wanted to whisper that it wasn’t close enough. We hadn’t taken a single step, but butterflies already danced and twirled in my stomach. I couldn’t make any words come out of my mouth. I rested my cheek against Aiden’s shirt, the linen warm from his broad chest, and his smell the familiar lullaby of fresh soap I remembered from all those weeks ago.
Aiden counted again, but this time, it wasn’t to battle through a panic attack. He moved with quiet patience, leading me through the unfamiliar pattern, stepping to one and two, three and four, five and six. It was pure magic. He smiled—one of the rare genuine smiles that lit up his face, all the way to his eyes. Gorgeous. My heart stuttered.
All my careful focus on the confusing steps disappeared. My heel clomped down hard on his foot.
Aiden choked back a grunt of pain.
“Whoops.” My shoulders hiked up around my ears. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay, love. I’ve got you.” He pulled back to look down at me with a smile. “Want to try a little spin?”
My head bobbed in an eager nod.
He chuckled. “Sweet girl. One…and…two…and…”
Our hands rose, and I twirled, my dress fanning in an excited whirl. Dizzy in the best way, I laughed and melted back into Aiden, my head resting against the safety of his chest. The thump of my heart raced so much faster than the steady pulse of the music and the awkward shuffles of our feet.
Could he hear how breathless I was, even though we were barely moving?
“Thank you,” he whispered. “For being there for me…”
He didn’t need to thank me for that. “Thank you for the dance…”
And for the beautiful new memory that chased the fading nightmare even further away.
28
He Saw Her Compassion
Aiden
“I could’ve sworn…” Cockingmy head, I lowered my book, listening.
Wind. Birds. Yeah, there it was again. A quiet knock tapped at the door.
I snapped my book shut and hopped off the couch. A glance at my watch, and my brows bunched together. A little after midday. Too early for Ruth. Her instructions had beenveryclear.
Ruth
Be ready to bring lunch at two… unless something pops up.
And the mystery visitor wouldn’t be Harry. He never bothered knocking. He just swung the door open and barged inside—usually with his boots still on, tramping dirt all over the hardwood floors.
My book slid across the dining table as I passed. The door eased open. I blinked.
I’m dreaming.
Lola stood on the veranda, her back to me, her eyes roaming the valley below. Blonde wisps escaped the high ponytail sweeping her hair back, and she was dressed simply in a loose white T-shirt, jeans, and sneakers.Pinksneakers.
I cleared my throat. That would wake me up. I had to be sleepwalking. “Lola?” I managed to croak.
She turned, her cheeks flushed almost as pink as her sneakers. “Hi!” A soft laugh. Was she nervous? “That view… It’s so beautiful up here.”
I stood there, my hand frozen on the door, my mouth hanging open. Words deserted me. Lola was at my house. It was like winning the lottery. No. What was better than that?
She wasatmyhouse.
