“Still at The Inn?” he asks finally.
Not what I was expecting. “Yeah, I haven’t been able to find anywhere to rent yet,” I say slowly. “Why?”
“Expensive,” he states without answering my question.
I bark out a laugh. “Wow, thanks. Riveting financial advice. Next, you’ll tell me water is wet.”
He doesn’t laugh. Doesn’t even smile. Just gives me that look again, and truth be told, it’s starting to make me feel uneasy. What the hell is going through his mind?
Then he says carefully, “Gabe’s got a spare room.”
That throws me. I rock back on my heels, coffee frozen halfway to my mouth. “Your brother?”
Aiden lifts his brows like—yeah, genius, which other Gabe?
Oh yeah, I guess the Gabe I think about way too often and haven’t seen in a year. Why is that, anyway? He always came over when I visited Aiden, asked how I was in his quiet way. Always made me feel like he was really interested in what I had to say. I’ve racked my head for the last year, wondering if I did something wrong, maybe said something stupid.
I push my hand through my hair. “And he’s looking for a roommate?”
He shrugs, but it’s loaded. He chews the corner of his lip as he stares out the window. “I mentioned it. He said I could bring it up with you.”
Not exactly an answer. But Aiden’s tone has weight to it.
I squint. “Okay… it sounds like there’s a second half to that.”
Aiden doesn’t deny it. Just stares into his coffee. Finally, he admits, “It’s not just about the room. He… he could use someone around. Gabe keeps to himself. Too much these days.”
The way he says it makes it clear this isn’t Gabe’s idea. It’s his. Aiden wants eyes on his brother.
“Gabe’s an adult. He doesn’t need babysitting,” I say carefully.
“No,” Aiden agrees. Then he looks up. “But he needs someone in his corner. Even if he won’t admit it.” His thumb runs over the seam of his cup. “Remember that dick he was dating, Kyle?”
“Yeah…” I say warily. I’d never met the guy; they started dating after I moved away, but Aiden grew to dislike him as time went on. Thought they were a bad match, and Gabe rarely spoke about him, even less after his parents passed. The guy didn’t even come to their funeral, which I found strange.
“Well,” Aiden exhales. “They broke up last year.”
Something shifts in his voice. I don’t like the tone he’s using at all. “Okay…” I say, bracing.
He glances up, meets my eyes for a second, then looks away. “I didn’t tell you because I didn’t think it was my place to say, but… It ended badly. I’m not entirely sure what happened, but Gabe was in a bad way when he showed up at my place in the middle of the night.”
What does that mean, a bad way? I grip my cup harder, my jaw tightening.
“He’d taken a bus back from Portland with a bag of his things,” he grunts, shaking his head, continuing quietly, “I took care of him, did what I could to calm him down. He never explained. Said he left Kyle, and that was it. He’s never wanted to speak about it.”
I stare at him, waiting, because I know there’s more.
Aiden scrubs a hand down his face, voice rough. “He’s been different since. Quieter than he ever was. Jumps at loud noises,at unexpected touches. He keeps everyone at arm’s length, even me sometimes. It’s like he’s… disappearing in front of my eyes.” He closes his eyes, then whispers so quietly, I don’t think he meant me to hear it, “Every time I see that fucking scar…”
There’s a sharp pressure in my chest, like someone’s reached in and twisted. A whole year, and I didn’t know any of this. Guilt claws up my throat. I should’ve been around. Should’ve visited more, should have reached out directly to Gabe,something.
Then that last word registers—scar. When I glance at Aiden, I see guilt in his eyes. We may be younger than Gabe, but Aiden has always been protective of him. It’s part of his nature to look out for people he loves. And Gabe… he was always so shy and sweet.
Rage prickles under my skin, burning deep. I can’t imagine ever laying a hand on someone, can’t imagine what kind of man would do something like that to anyone, let alone to Gabe. I put my coffee on the desk, squeeze my eyes shut, and take a deep breath.
“He won’t talk about it.” Aiden shakes his head, frustration bleeding through, the kind that comes from love. “He’s not living. Just… surviving. Doesn’t see people as much. Doesn’t do the things he used to love. Only leaves his place when he has to; running is the only exception. He might go to his friend’s house or my apartment, but never just out. The store’s the only place he can stand talking to people he doesn’t know.”
He goes quiet, thumb dragging along his jaw.
