If I squint my eyes hard enough, I can see bits of dust on his pants I hadn’t noticed before. “What were you doing that for?”
Aidan straightens and rubs the back of his neck, then he gestures to the front door of Bones. “I bought the bar.”
I stare at him openly, jaw slack.
Out of nowhere, I let out an obnoxious bark of laughter. I have no idea why it’s so funny, but I’m clenching my stomach and wheezing.
Only, now Aidan looks hurt. He clears his throat. “Let me guess, you see it as another selfish gesture.”
I’ve humiliated him. Now I feel awful. My emotions are giving me whiplash! I try to backtrack. “No, I didn’t mean tolaugh. I just—it’s kinda funny at this point, right? You just keep buying things, and I still have no idea how. You’re like an endless slot machine.”
His chin drops and he shakes his head. Then he extends his hand for me to take. “Come. Let me take you home.”
Chapter Twenty-One
AIDAN
Taking care of Joanna Shepherd while she’s drunk was not on my bingo card. I hate drunk people, but I can’t be upset with Jo. It’s impossible not to see how much she’s hurting, I only wish she would open her sealed vault of emotions and tell me what’s wrong. I want to prove to her she can trust me, but I can’t push her. If I do, I fear she’ll run away for good.
In the middle of our drive to the farm, Joanna suddenly declares she has no interest in going home. I hear a rambling mumble of words about how her mother isn’t there and the hole is too big—whatever that means—so instead, I make an illegal U-turn and drive her to my home. I would like to think she feels safe there, after all this time, and right now that’s all I want for her. Despite the gloss of alcohol over her eyes, they look dull. From the corner of my eye in the driver’s seat, I catch her rubbing her chest as if to soothe a literal ache. I fight the urge to place my hand on her thigh. I want to comfort her. I want to listen to whatever she has to say, but I can’t do that when she won’t even talk to me.
By the time I get her through the door, Joanna can hardly keep her eyes open. Sitting down in the car for so long must havemade her sleepy, because she heads straight for the couch. I urge her up the stairs to the actual bed. She tries to make it on her own, one wobbly step at a time, but after she misses the railing and nearly slams her head against it, I swoop her against my chest and cradle her in my arms.
“I don’t need your help,” she grumbles, half-asleep, head already resting on my shoulder.
I don’t respond. I just watch her lashes flutter as she tries, and fails, to keep herself awake. I place her on the bed, removing her shoes, and make sure she’s comfortable, selfishly relishing the fact that my sheets are surrounding her with my scent. I want her to dream about me, and what she’s been pushing away.
She stirs as I pull the duvet to her chest, and her hand reaches out to take mine. “Aidan?”
I still. “Yes,ma douce?”
Eyes closed, she blindly clasps her fingers around mine, holding tightly.
“I don’t want to be alone.” Her voice is so small and fragile it causes a small fissure in my heart.
I walk around the foot of the four-poster bed and pull the blankets down, crawling in next to her fully clothed—damn the wrinkles. She smells like sweat and alcohol, but underneath is that sweet, fruity scent I know so well. I envelope her in my arms , and she doesn’t pull away, so I bury my face in her neck. It’s the first time we’ve ever lain like this together—no sex, just two people enjoying the comfort of one another. The safety. It’s the type of intimacy I’ve craved for so long but never thought I’d be worthy enough to experience.
I soak it up for as long as I can stand it. Once the sound of her heavy breathing fills my ears, I get up carefully and leave the room. As I stand in the hallway, I try not to let myself get used to the feeling of what I just experienced. It’s the closest I’ve felt to her throughout our time together, but I know it’ll neverhappen again. Even worse is that she’s most likely not going to remember it tomorrow.
Chapter Twenty-Two
JOANNA
Iwake up in a strange but extremely comfortable bed. My head feels like a walrus sat on it. I sit up slowly, taking in my surroundings the best I can in the dim light. Curtains are drawn to my left, small slivers of sun escaping around the edges. I stretch out my arms and legs across the silky sheets of the massive bed, not touching the other side.
I know where I am just by the smell, Aidan’s smell. I grab one of the large pillows and hug it to my chest, breathing in his bergamot and citrus scent that’s buried in the material. Of all the places to end up after being black-out drunk, this is probably the best. The only problem is I have no memory of how I got here. The last thing that comes to mind is Aidan offering to take me home.
I pull the pillow away from my face, and I’m struck by the stale smell of alcohol and cigarettes on my clothes. My hair is matted and sweaty, and I feel disgusting. I’m surprised Aidan let me sleep in his bed like this. He’ll probably burn the sheets and buy another expensive ass set tomorrow.
I inch my way out of the oversized bed until my feet meet the plush, thick carpet. With half-lidded eyes, I walk to the windowand peek behind the curtain. The blinding light is too much at first, but after a second of adjusting, I can see it’s early morning. I notice there’s a fresh set of clothes perfectly folded for me at the foot of the bed. It’s another pair of Aidan’s sweatpants, but this time he added a large sweater.
Somehow familiar with the ensuite bathroom, I pad barefoot across the tile and press the button for the heated floors, my toes curling at the sudden warmth. The showerhead pours hot rain-like water over my sticky and sluggish body, gradually coaxing my aching muscles back to life. Drinking at my age is not as fun as I thought it would be. This hangover feels like I’ve got the flu, though the shower at least helps me feel a little more alive.
As I finish pulling up the large fluffy socks Aidan left, there’s a soft knock on the bedroom door. I’m hesitant to open it and face who’s behind it after the way I acted last night, but I can’t hide in Aidan’s bedroom forever.
I answer in a voice as soft as the knock. “Come in.”
The door opens without a sound. Aidan is standing there in a long sleeve athletic shirt and joggers similar to the ones I’m wearing. The thin material clings to his lithe, muscular body. There’s a significant slump in his shoulders. His typical confident yet detached demeanor has been shaken, and I can’t help but blame myself. The worry for me is written all over his face, in the frown lines around his mouth, and the bags under his eyes. I’ve caused him unnecessary stress, and now I’ve overstayed my welcome.
