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I snorted, pretty pleased with myself. “Calm down. I went through this phase when I was into watching a lot of crime TV shows. I’ve never even stolen a pen in my life.”
Aiden’s careful expression didn’t go anywhere.
“I’m not trying to kill anyone… unless we had to,” I joked weakly.
His nostrils flared so slightly I almost missed it. But what I didn’t miss was the way the corners of his mouth tipped up into a tiny smile.
I smiled at him as innocently as possible. “So do you want to tell me who’s going to get the fists of fury?” I hoped I sounded as harmless as I intended, even though I felt the exact opposite as every second passed.
“Fists of fury?”
“Yep.” I held up my hands just a little so he could see them. He had no idea the number of fights I’d gotten into with my sisters over the years. I didn’t always win—I rarely won if I was going to be honest—but I never gave up.
The sigh that came out of him was so long and drawn out, I kind of prepped myself for the half-assed answer that was going to come out of his mouth.
“It’s nothing.” There it was. “Delgado—”
The brakes in my head came to a screeching halt. “You got into it with Christian?”
He glanced at me through those incredibly long eyelashes, moving the ice pack a little lower on his jaw. “Yes.”
That dreaded feeling in my stomach got worse. “Why?” I hopefully asked as calmly as I could, but I was pretty sure it came out relatively strangled.
Please, please, please. Don’t let it be why I think it might be. Christian had been a creep on Thanksgiving, but it wasn’t like he’d made grabby hands at me.
Aiden’s face said it all. His mouth opened slightly and the tip of his tongue touched the corner of it. That brief silence was cold. “You could have told me,” he accused.
I gulped. “Told you what?”
His gaze was through the thick row of his eyelashes, and I caught his hand flexing over the icepack. “What he did to you. How he acts around you.”
Zac. I was going to wring his neck. “I’ll tell you what I told Zac: it isn’t a big deal.”
The big guy went stone-cold still. A muscle in his jaw popped and a vein in his neck throbbed.
“It is a big deal, Vanessa. Zac mentioned it to me right before he left, but I thought if it was a big deal, you would have said or done something about it. You didn’t.” He leveled that dark, angry gaze at me, his jaw tightening. “I saw the way he looked at you after the game. I heard the way he talked to you while I was right there. He knows we’re married, and he still did that shit.”
Did he just cuss for the second time in a week?
“I am not okay with that,” he claimed in that incredibly deep voice, his spine straight and shoulders back. “I’m not fine with you always thinking you have to deal with things on your own.”
Remorse filled me, but only for a second. I straightened my own back and glared right back at him. “You didn’t have to get into a fight with him over it, Aiden. I don’t want that guilt on my head. The last thing I want is for you to get angry with yourself later.”
Plus, what would I have done back then? Told Aiden his teammate had tried coming on to me? He wouldn’t have done anything. I knew that. The Aiden from a few months ago knew that, too.
“I did have to, and I would do it again.”
I blinked. Then I blinked a little more, having to look up at the ceiling so that I could collect my words. A touch at the side of my jaw had me tipping my head back to look into those deep brown eyes.
Everything about him was serious and intent. “I know you think I wouldn’t care,” he said in that whisper voice that bled solemnness, “but I would. I do. We’re in this together.”
My mouth suddenly dry, I nodded. “Yes.”
“Trust me, Van. Tell me. I won’t let you down.”
Yeah, my throat and tongue thought they were the Sahara. My eyes on the other hand wanted to be the Amazon. I didn’t even realize I needed to sniffle until I did it. As much as I’d been telling myself over the last two days that I’d imagined being a wee bit in love with him, my heart held on to the truth. I was. I hated it, but I was. I recognized it, sensing that stir in my chest. I was falling, if not more than a little, in love with Aiden. My husband of convenience.
And it was terrible. I had no right. No business to do so. This was an agreement between two people who barely spoke to each other. How could I do this for the next five years? What the hell was I going to do with it?
I had no idea.
“You believe me, don’t you?” he asked, tearing me out of my thoughts.
I made myself focus on the face that was as familiar to me as the rest of my loved ones’ were; that tight mouth, the hard lines of his cheekbones, the thick slashes of his eyebrows. Control and discipline in flesh and bone.
I nodded, forcing myself to give him my best easygoing, total-liar smile. “I do. Of course I do.” I touched his forearm. “Thank you again for standing up for me.”
He grumbled, “Stop it.”
I smiled a little more genuinely. “I have this cream for bruises, let me go grab it.”
Aiden jerked his head back like I was about to try to shove a hot dog in his mouth. “You know I don’t care about bruises.”
“Too bad. I do. He can be black and purple tomorrow—and I freaking hope he is—but I’d rather you didn’t.” I winced at the small crack in his lip. “What did he have to do? Take a running start to reach your face?”
