“Quinn, listen. Nothing’s ruined. We’ll have another bonfire night. We would have anyway because I want more s’mores. Just lie quietly and try to sleep.”
“Okay, Aunt Em.” Blindly he reached out a hand. “Aaron?”
Aaron’s hand engulfed Quinn’s. “Easy, pup.”
“I think I need the peppermint.”
“Sure thing.” Aaron released his hand and motioned Ember to follow him from the room. In the kitchen he brought down a glass bottle of peppermint oil.
“Soothing?” Ember said.
“That, and it’s a good sensory buffer. It’ll give him a break from everything he’s smelling.”
Back in Quinn’s room, he handed Quinn a pair of earplugs from the nightstand drawer. Quinn put them into his ears while Aaron poured a few drops of the oil onto a strip of white cloth. When he placed it under Quinn’s nostrils, Quinn gave a long sigh of relief.
“Better?” Aaron said.
“Yeah.” The hand reached out again, and Aaron took it. “This sucks.”
“Sure does,” Aaron said. “But it won’t always. You’ll adjust.”
“In time,” Quinn said, his mock-deep voice an obvious impersonation.
Aaron gave a soft chuckle that sounded…broken. “Spot on, pup. Now you rest.”
Quinn clung to his hand for a few more seconds, then let go. Ember followed Aaron from the bedroom and shut the door behind them. Tears pushed into her throat. Her nephew shouldn’t have to go through this. Not sweet Quinn.
When she looked up, the focus of her concern widened. Aaron stood in the hallway, hunched up, head down, hands in his pockets. His chest heaved once, and this time it didn’t stir heat into her veins. It sent a pang of worry through her stomach.
“Do you need to talk about it?” she said.
His gaze flickered up, maybe surprised. “What?”
“I’m not the world’s best listener, but I’m decent.”
Aaron looked down again. “I can’t, Ember.”
“Is there someone else you talk to?”
She really didn’t give up. “About this? Just Malachi.”
“Then call him.”
“Not at midnight. Bad memories, that’s all. They always pass.”
“I can handle it, you know.”
The old images receded as he cocked his head to stare at her. Distraction via confrontation? It was actually working. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Try me. If you think it would help.”
It might, but no way. Not now that a subconscious instinct in his gut and in—well, additional parts of his anatomy—had claimed her for life. If there was any way to keep her, any way at all, Aaron had to find it. Showing her his shadows would finally send her running.
She stood there waiting for him to decide, her eyes like lakes under an overcast sky, her body relaxed and unafraid of him, of the memories that lived in his head.
How was it possible he’d known this woman for only six days?
“You know,” he said, “you probably could handle it.”
