CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Bailey
I hadno fucking clue what time it was when our bedroom door opened on a Sunday morning in early December, Aiden’s footsteps padding across the carpet for a second before the mattress dipped at the edge as he crawled onto the bed beside me. There was barely six inches for him to squeeze into since Hunter was taking up ninety percent of the bed, but he made it work, his leg draped over mine as he put his hand on my chest.
“Good morning,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to my neck and burying his face against my skin, breathing in deeply and sighing. He was wearing a pair of loose boxers and a T-shirt he’d stolen from Hunter and me. Considering how good it looked on him, I was happy to sacrifice it to his wardrobe.
When it came to me, Aiden could have whatever he wanted. Just like Hunter.
“Mornin’.” I coughed slightly, my voice rough and thick from sleep. “What fucking time is it?”
“Nearly eight. I figured it was about time I turfed you two out of bed, and I thought this would be nicer than the blender.”
I chuckled hoarsely and pressed a kiss to the top of his head, my arm wrapping around his waist to pull him against me. “Thanks for that.”
“You’re welcome. How’re you feeling after yesterday?”
“Good, I think. No worse than usual anyway, although my ribs are a little sore,” I said as I ran a mental check-in on my body. We’d played York away yesterday, and it had been a pretty standard affair. For us anyway. We’d come away with a solid win, and I’d been substituted off in the second half when I’d collided with one of their props. His boots had rolled over my thigh while his knee connected solidly with my ribs, and I’d found it hard to breathe as the muscles pulled. For a while, I’d wondered if I’d cracked my ribs, but it didn’t seem like it.
Although I did have a large bruise blooming across them, painting my skin a delightfully ugly shade of greenish-purple.
“How bad is a little sore?” Aiden asked, lifting his head to look at me pointedly.
I shrugged. “Just a little sore. It’s fine. I’ll still be able to lift stuff later.”
“I’m not worried about you lifting stuff. I’m worried if your ribs are broken.”
“I don’t think so. Anyway, there’s not much they can do if they are. I just have to wait it out,” I said. I’d had cracked ribs before, and this didn’t feel like that. Although last time it’d happened had been pretty nasty, so I supposed there was a chance there could be a hairline fracture. Aiden sighed and muttered something unfavourable about rugby players, but I simply smiled and tugged him closer. “I know, we’re the worst.”
“You are, but it’s fine. I’ll live.”
“Charming, and there was me thinking you loved us.” I said it teasingly, the same way I’d said it a handful of times before. But there was something about the way it fell off my tongue and the way Aiden tensed that made it feel different. Like it wasn’ta joke but more of a reality wrapped in light-heartedness, a bad attempt at a disguise in case the truth wasn’t wanted.
I’d known for months I loved Aiden, but I’d never said it, too afraid that the bubble around us would shatter beyond repair.
“I do, but I still think you’re a twat for acting like potentially broken ribs aren’t a big deal,” he said quietly, lifting his head slowly and not quite meeting my eyes. He seemed to be looking somewhere over my shoulder, where Hunter was sprawled out beside me with his face buried between the pillows, snoring gently. I wondered if I should wake him up for this conversation, but part of me wanted to have it with Aiden first. Then he could tell Hunter later.
“Yeah?” I asked, needing to hear it properly. To have that confirmation of how he felt.
“Yeah.” A little smile curled across his mouth, just visible in the darkness, a tiny amount of grey winter light trickling in around the edges of the blinds. His gaze slowly drifted to mine, a shy certainty in his eyes. It was probably the most vulnerable I’d ever seen him.
“Want me to say it first?”
“Please.”
I gently cupped his jaw as a deep, warm sense of happiness filled my chest. “I love you, Aiden. So, so fucking much. I’m one of the luckiest bastards in the world, because you’re bloody amazing and I can’t believe you chose me.”
“Technically, you chose me,” he said softly, brushing his lips across mine. “I still remember the look you and Hunter gave me at The Court. You were both practically drooling.”
“Can you blame us?”
“No. I’m hot as fuck.”
I chuckled. “Yeah, you are. And I’m still saying you chose us. You were the one who saw us, all messy and in need of something, and decided we were yours.” I didn’t add that it feltlike we’d been adopted by a stray cat who’d turned up on our doorstep and decided he lived here now. But it was the most apt comparison I could think of.
“You were such a mess,” Aiden said, his smile turning teasing. “It was adorable as fuck.”
“Thanks, I think.”
