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“Bullshit. No one would do that. They all know better than that.”
I shift my weight from foot to foot. “I don’t know how else he would’ve gotten up here. You need a room key to make it up the elevator. But it’s fine now. Security is aware, and they’re going to ensure that he’s removed.”
Aiden’s shoulders droop, and a long sigh escapes him.
“Thank you, Cassidy. I jus—”
“Shh,” I coo. “Don’t say anything. Here, why don’t you take a seat?”
I know this has him rattled. This is his sanctuary. His private space. And something like this can really send him overboard.
He takes a seat, and I come to stand behind him, placing my hands on his shoulders.
“What are you doing?”
“Giving you a massage.” I start to work out the tight knots.
“Cass.”
“Don’t Cass me. I’m paid to make your life easier. Let me do that.” I leave him no room to resist, instead kneading harder.
“I really don’t know what I would do without you,” he says, and my heart swells.
I’ve heard those words before, and they had the same effect back then as they do now. The air is thick, and a lump gets caught in my throat. All the good memories are chased away by everything that came after.
The lake.
That voice that feels like a million spiders crawling over me when I hear it.
The fall.
Aiden grabs my hand, pulling it forward, and I go still.
For one, his action completely catches me off guard. Two, he’s staring at my scars.
“What happened here?” Aiden practically whispers. He gently slides his fingers over the scars, focused on the deep round one on my wrist.
“Nothing.”
“You can tell me.”
I jerk my arm away, feeling naked and vulnerable. “No,” I say, refusing to go down that road. “They’re just scars.”
“Cassidy, I…”
I can’t allow him to dig. “Please stop, Aiden. It was something that happened a long time ago. It’s not something I want to think about, much less talk about.”
That might be the most truthful thing I’ve said in weeks.
He stares up at me for longer than I like, and I squirm under his gaze. He can’t possibly know what happened. There’s no way. But he knows what it’s like to be in an abusive situation. He’s probably reliving his own right now.
The past has a way of holding us hostage, unwilling to allow us to simply float off, leaving the bad behind.
“What?” I say, but the word comes out breathy and all wrong.
He stares at me for a few moments longer, then shakes his head and turns away. “Nothing. It just…it just made me think of something. That’s all.”
I have an idea of what it could remind him of. Another time. Another place. Two broken kids banding together to survive.
