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It’s a miracle I’ve made it this far with all the shit I had to endure in my teens.
My father alone. Not to mention—
“Cass.” Hearing my name has me pulling out of the dark thoughts that threaten to send me back to a horrible place.
“Yeah.” The word slips out as a whisper.
“Come here.” He pulls me close, back into his body, until I can rest my head on his chest.
I love being in this position. Love hearing and feeling his heartbeat. Knowing he’s here and safe.
Peace washes over me. Like I’ve found home. Because that’s what Aiden is to me. Home. He always has been since that first day I saw him.
“I want to know what I missed,” he says into my hair.
“You mean how I paid the bills? Fed my dad?”
His shoulders stiffen, and his entire body goes rigid. I’m afraid I’ve ruined the moment when he relaxes and says, “If that’s what you want to tell me.”
I pull away, gaze locked on his chest. “I don’t. My time back then…” I shake my head, trying to push away the errant thoughts running through my mind. “It’s in the past. I lived. I made it out.” I look up and into his eyes. “I don’t want to go back there.”
His eyes search mine, and I wonder what he thinks he’ll find.
“I missed so much, and if you want to talk—”
“I don’t. Not about that.” I clear my throat, trying to calm my nerves. “I’ll tell you anything you want, but just not about when you left.”
If my words affect him, it’s hard to tell. His features are frozen, no emotions play on his face, but the thing is, I know Aiden. He needs to process.
“If that’s what you want.”
It’s all he says, and I nod.
Right now, he’s processing what I just said. Or what I didn’t say. But soon his silence won’t be enough for him. My insistence that I don’t want to talk about it won’t be enough. He’ll want to know the truth, my truth. And God help me when he does.
41
AIDEN
For the first time in months, scratch that—years—I wake, and I’m not instantly attacked with things I need to do.
It’s a soft hum in my brain that I need to get up and start my list, but instead of jumping up and rushing into things, I look over at the clock. It’s nine in the morning.
No. Not nine, it’s nine twenty.
I almost want to laugh. How the fuck did I manage to sleep this late?
I give in to the urge and laugh because I don’t know the last time this happened.
The last time I woke this late, let alone did so on a time that wasn’t an odd number. It’s coded into my brain, and despite everything, my body just knows.
Except for today.
Last night, I forgot to turn my phone back on. I turned it off when Cass and I were talking, but the compulsion to turn it back on was lost somewhere between our intense discussion and worshipping her body.
Apparently, even my mind can agree that being with Cassidy is better than lists and rituals.
“What’s got you laughing over there?” she says from beside me, and I turn toward her.
