Page 87 of Veiled

He blinks once, slowly. “Ana, I’m not doing anything. I’m asking what the hell you mean.”

“You and Lucas putting a dead pig in my bed while I was sleeping,” I say, forcing each word out. “Smeared its blood all over me. Ringing any bells?”

Aiden stares at me.

Not evasive.

Not smirking.

Not guilty.

Just stunned.

“Annalise,” he says, voice dropping to something almost careful, “I have never, never, put a dead animal anywhere near you. And I sure as hell have never put blood on you.”

My throat goes dry, but anger pushes past it. “So, what, it magically appeared in my bed?”

Aiden shakes his head, slowly, like he’s trying to piece together a puzzle that makes no sense.

“I swear I have no idea. Lucas never even mentioned it to me. I don’t know if he didn’t because he guessed I still wasn’t over you or if he just knew I wouldn’t go along with it, no matter who it was, but I promise you I didn’t know.”

Aiden leans in, voice softer, still sincere. “I’m owning up to all the stupid shit I’ve said and done since that night at the Staggering Ox. I’ve let my jealousy cloud my judgment, and I bought into Lucas’s lies, but I swear I wasn’t involved in that. And I’ll never hurt you like I did ever again.”

“Okay.”

“What do you mean, ‘Okay’? Just like that?”

“Yeah. I forgive you. I think I forgave you before we even made it to the beach house.”

“Well then, I’m also sorry I took so long to catch up.” He says with a wink.

“Yeah, yeah. But you still haven’t told me what you’re going to tell Lucas.”

He’s quiet for a moment, jaw flexing like he’s running through all the possible answers. Then, simply, “The truth. That you’re with me.”

I look back at him, searching his face. “And you think that’ll go over well?”

“No,” he admits, a smile tugging at his lips. “I don’t, but I don’t care.”

I blink at him. “But he’s your friend?”

Aiden laughs under his breath, low, sharp, humorless. “Ana, Honey, he’s been making up lies about you and trying to hurt you for years, not to mention possibly attacking you via pig. I wouldn’t respect or be friends with anyone who has pulled that shit, but it’s taking every ounce of restraint I possess to not put him through a wall as soon as I see him for what he’s done to you.”

Something in his voice makes my pulse jump. It’s not only anger, it’s raw, primal protection.

“I need you to know,” he continues, his tone softening a fraction. “I haven’t stayed single because I wanted to play the field. I stayed single because I hadn’t found someone I cared enough about to want to share my life with.” He leans closer, his eyes dark and unwavering. “And I know this sounds insane because, as you pointed out, we barely started dating, but I’m sure about you, about us. For as long as you’ll have me.”

For a moment, I can’t breathe. He says it like it’s already decided. I study him, caught between wanting to believe him and wanting to run. I can’t decide if his certainty terrifies me or comforts me. Maybe both. And all I can do is hope he still feels that strongly for me after tonight.

“Sooo, when we get back to my room—“ he starts, clearly trying to lighten the mood.

“You’re impossible.”

“And yet, you like me.”

I pause, staring up at him and smiling. “Maybe I do.”

The silence that comes over us is no longer uncomfortable; it feels like the beginning of something real.