I yawned, not sure why he hadn’t dropped me off at my apartment. He ran his hand down his face, getting out of the car without a word.Okay then.I followed suit and tried not to stare at his back. His beautiful, sculpted back. “Aaron, why didn’t you drop me off?”
“We need to ice your bruise. I have stuff here.” His clipped tone told me he still wasn’t happy with me. I couldn’t blame him, though. “Come on.”
He put his hand on my shoulder, guiding me into his home without making a sound. I walked toward the kitchen, but he shook his head and pointed upstairs. The floor creaked with each step and I made a vow to myself then and there.
No more dating.
No more being a dumbass.
I am going to focus on school and my friends.
I needed to save as much money as I could, ensuring I could return my senior year, because one of the things that had triggered my spiral was my dad losing his job six years before retirement. My parents had had to sell our childhood home, retire three years before they’d planned, and most of their money had been spent helping my brother with his nasty divorce. Shame consumed me again at how selfish and foolish I had been. My eyes stung and I clenched my jaw, hoping to stop the waterworks.
I planned to delete my online dating apps and have someone change my password as soon as I woke up the next day. Tonight had crossed a line. Too fucked-up.
“Go ahead and sit on the bed. I’ll get my kit.” He held the door for me and disappeared down the hall. Aaron’s room fit him well—baseball legends and pinup models plastered on the walls. Clothes scattered across the floor made it appear messy, but I knew the closet was organized by colors. The bed welcomed me, the exhaustion of the night taking me. I lay on it, just closing my eyes for a little. I would leave after I’d iced my bruised arm. Dreams began to take over when I felt the softest touch on my cheek, like a feather.
“Greta?”
A deep, hushed voice forced me to open my eyes and Aaron’s gray ones were inches away from me. “Hm?”
“Sit up for a second. You can sleep right after.” He nudged my leg with his arm and sat next to me. He was still shirtless, the handsome devil. He carefully put my forearm in his left hand and used his other to hold the ice against it. “It hurts me seeing this bruise on you.”
I closed my eyes at his honesty. I leaned into his shoulder and sighed. “I’m so embarrassed. And sorry. And I hate myself a little right now.”
“We all make mistakes. Hell, you knew me when I went on a bender. You stood by me when I drank every night, slept with countless women, and chewed my ass out the one time I tried drugs. I haven’t forgotten that.”
I groaned into his shoulder. “I would do it again if I had to.”
“I know you would, G.” He laughed softly, the first time that night. I’d missed that sound.
“There it is. I wondered if your laughing part broke.”
“Okay, no need to be dramatic.” He picked up the ice and hissed at my arm. “Promise me something.”
“No need. I already made a vow to never online date again. No, to never date again. Or at least for five years. Don’t worry. This will never happen again.”
“It better fucking not.” His hand came around my leg, squeezing my knee. “Promise me you’ll call me if you need help. Any time. Any place. You’re one of the most important people in my goddamn life.”
“Okay.” I met his gaze and winced at the intensity in his eyes. “I promise.”
“Good.” He yawned, taking the bag off my arm. “I’m going to sleep. I’m beat.”
“Uh, should I call a cab?” I hesitated.
“Don’t be a dumbass. Sleep here. You’ve crashed on the couch countless times.” He leaned back, fluffing up the pillows and rolling over.Damn those back muscles. I want to bite them.
I pushed myself up to head downstairs when his arm wrapped around me. “Uh, Aaron?”
“Stay here. My bed is huge. Don’t make it weird.”
He pulled me back onto the bed but kept enough distance between us. He must’ve sensed my trepidation because he rolled over and mumbled, “You mean too much to me to try anything. Go to sleep.”
Chapter Two
Aaron
“Tell us about your games, son. I miss watching you play.” My dad wheezed into the phone, each breath a hand clenching around my lungs. He sounded weak. I squeezed the shit out of the can I held. It cracked in my hand, the crinkling of aluminum distracting me from the emotional prison I lived in. “Aaron”—he coughed, three excruciating times, before continuing—“how did you hit?”
