“Ayden!”
He literally sprints to the truck and tries to open it. Although this town is safe, I don’t just keep my shit unlocked. Turning to me, he looks absolutely petrified.
Had it been from the police?
I’m right in front of him and the moment he’s about to say something, I cut in. “What’s wrong?”
“Did you see them looking at us?”
Holy shit. Does this tie back to the accident? He said people helped him, but I never really understood what that meant. Helped him how? Covered for him? Got him out of something? Is he running from them now?
No. That’s insane. Right?
He’s talking fast—spilling words like a dam breaking—but I only catch fragments due to my head being too loud.
I have to play this carefully. The way he panicked at the idea of me judging him… I can’t come at him like he’s overreacting or broken. That’ll just push him away.
If he’s in trouble, yeah, the right thing to do is steer him toward fixing it legally. By the book.
Except, I’d rather walk naked in the woods with slabs of meat hanging all over me for a predator to have its next bite, than to be separated from him again. As stupid as that is, I can’t send him back if that’s what’s going on.
“—I think they were taking my photo.”
I place a hand gently on the curve of his shoulder, and that’s enough to silence him.
“Listen to me.” I sigh, and as he leans back against the truck, I step closer. Our bodies are so near that only the wind could slip between us. “You’re safe. Whatever you think you saw, don’t worry about it.”
The moment his gaze starts drifting over my shoulder, I catch him. “Eyes here, Ayden. On me. Don’t think about anything else.”
His chest rises sharply, his Adam’s apple bobbing with a hard swallow.
“Breathe. Tell me what you’re afraid of.”
A sudden shift in his expression tells me I’ve said the wrong thing.
“I’m not afraid.”
“You clearly are, but it’s fine, I’ll?—”
“It’s not fine. Don’t treat me like—” He tries to shove me, but I snatch both his wrists and step back. “I’m not scared. I’m just…”
I give him the moment, keeping his wrists in my grip but slowly lowering them between us. He doesn’t pull away, but I can see the change in him—panic fading into anger, flickering back and forth as if he can’t decide where to land.
Personally, I’d rather him stay angry. I don’t want to see him afraid or upset.
I’ve been so focused on him, I don’t hear the footsteps approaching.
“Everything alright out here?”
I suppress the groan rising in my chest.
Releasing one of Ayden’s wrists, I turn to see the two officers from inside standing a few feet away. One’s still eating his ice cream, the other—the one who must’ve spoken—has his hands tucked into his pants pockets.
“All good here, officers. Thanks for checking in.”
I start to turn back when he asks, “And you?”
I assume he means Ayden. Stepping slightly to the side so they can see I’m not holding him, he mumbles, “I’m fine.” He straightens, but keeps his chin low, avoiding eye contact.
