“Keo!” he hisses through clenched teeth. Even as he squirms and kicks at me, I keep him pinned long enough to get a closer look. The scar, long and deep, is unmistakably medical.
“Why do you have this? Did someone do this to you?”
His sweats slip low on one side, revealing another scar slashed across his hip.
“Holy shit, Ayden, what?—”
“I got into a car accident,” he mumbles, swatting my hand away as he scrambles back until he’s pressed against the headboard, his chest heaving. “Oh my god, you’re strong.”
Swallowing hard, the feeling of guilt already beginning to creep in, I mutter, “Sorry… I didn’t hurt you, did I?”
He shakes his head. “No…” I’m not entirely sure I believe him.
“When was the accident, that scar looks… relatively new.” I should know, I’ve seen plenty of them in my line of work.
“Last year.” He pauses, as if wrestling with the words. I fight the urge to go to him, but the pain etched across his face begs me to take care of him. “I’d been drinking… and I drove my boyfriend and me home. I guess I lost control and wrapped the car around a pole.”
Holy shit. My stomach drops.
“It was bad. I spent a long time recovering. I had surgery on my spine, my leg…” His eyes finally meet mine, and it’s nearly instantly that he starts to hyperventilate. “Keo, I don’t even remember drinking that much. I swore I only had one drink. The whole accident is a blur—I don’t remember anything.”
His words come faster and faster, my head spinning just trying to keep up. He shoots to his feet, pacing the narrow space between the wall and the bed.
“I would’ve never driven drunk. I wouldn’t do that! I don’t even know why?—”
“Hey, hey…”
“—he let me drive. I swear I’d never put myself or anyone in danger like that. I’m so fucking stupid for?—”
I cross the room in four long strides and cut him off, grabbing the back of his head and pulling him hard into my chest. “Breathe, Ayden. Stop talking and just breathe for me.”
He drags in a shaky breath, his arms wrapping tight around my torso. I fold my other arm over his shoulders, holding him there.
“It’s alright.” I’m not going to press him with questions, but it’s clear now why he doesn’t drink. Why he fears driving. Why he called the Uber that night. Why he’ll likelynevertouch alcohol again. “I’ve got you. There’s nothing to worry about with me.”
He only shakes his head, staying silent.
I press my cheek lightly to his forehead and close my eyes for a brief moment, letting myself think.
He’s been so afraid to tell me anything real abouthim. I just want to understand.
Why he can’t let me in.
Why he stayed away until it was too late.
Why I care so fucking much that I’ll ruin everything if I’m notcareful. Just like I did eight years ago.
“Come on,” I murmur, stepping back.
Without saying more, I guide him with a hand on his shoulder, turning him toward the bed. He drops his head, and I hate that it falls in shame.
He pulls back the blanket and crawls in, shifting all the way to the far side. I flick off the lamp on the nightstand, kick off my shoes, but keep every layer of clothing on. This isn’t the time to be anything but a friend to Ayden—I won’t risk having anything misconstrued.
Sliding onto the bed, I settle just close enough that I can reach out and touch him if I wanted.
“Tell me. Why are you so worried about letting me in, Ayden?”
His sigh carries the weight of indignation. “I’m afraid of what you’ll think of me. How you’ll… see me…”
