Aiden makes a pleased sound and ties off the end of the braid with my favorite pink scrunchie. He smooths his hand over the braid, moving from the top of my head to the middle of my back where it ends.
“Thank you for braiding my hair.” I face him with a smile.
When he grins, the bruised skin on his cheek stretches and looks painful. “I’d do anything for you.”
I frown and poke him in the middle of the chest. “By the way, what happened yesterday?”
“Are you talking about when I played with your pussy in front of your?—”
I slap my palm over his mouth and scowl. “Nuh-uh. We’re not talking about that.”
Mirth shines in Aiden’s eyes, and my hand muffles his chuckles.
“We’re talking about the new bruises from someone hurting you. What happened?” I ask.
His fingers circle my wrist, and he tugs. When I don’t move fast enough, he licks the center of my palm and laughs at my scrunched nose. I jerk my hand away from his face and fold my arms over my chest.
“You gonna kiss the bruises better?” Aiden smirks.
I roll my eyes. “If you don’t want to talk about it, then I’ll drop it.”
“Our captive escaped, and I had to chase him down.” Aiden’s smile doesn’t falter, his attention homed in on my face as if he finds it amusing that I’m concerned about him.
“How did he escape?”
“Ryder fell for Kyle playing possum with him.”
“That trick worked on Ryder?” My head rears backward, and I blink several times, shocked that Ryder of all people would have fallen for someone playing dead.
“Yeah, and I gave him shit for it.” Aiden huffs a laugh, then snatches my helmet from the ground and extends it toward me. “If you insist on going out, I want to beat this storm. You ready?”
I slipinto the booth’s plastic seat and grab Aiden’s wrist when he passes to sit on the opposite side. He casts a curious glance at me, his dark eyebrow raised.
“Like old times.” I tug him toward me, refusing to let him break the ritual we began when we were younger. This diner holds more memories than the foster home we were in together.
He grins and settles onto the worn plastic-covered bench beside me, then wraps his arm over the back of the bench behind my shoulder.
“Hey, kiddos.” Patricia sidles up to our table with the fond smile she saves just for us. She sets a glass of Dr. Pepper with a straw already in it in front of us, then pats Aiden on the shoulder like a mother would her child.
She reminds me so much of my mom and how warm and kind she was.
“Hey, Patty.” Aiden relaxes in the seat, and his thigh bumps into mine, sending a rush of warmth straight to my chest. “Is Scott still giving you trouble?”
Patricia chuckles. “Nah. The old man must’ve had some sense knocked into him. He’s finally given up drinking. Things have been looking up since.”
“Good. Glad to hear it.” Aiden nods and drums his fingers on the cushion beside my shoulder.
She narrows her eyes and hitches a hand on her cocked hip. “You weren’t the one that knocked sense into him, were ya?”
“Moi?” His eyes widen, and he slaps a hand over his chest, playing the part of innocence. “Never. I’m a good boy.”
My stomach does the weird thing again at his little comment that’s more of an inside joke between us. Even though it’s not a joke.
Aiden doesn’t look at me, but it’s like he knows everything I’m feeling and thinking because the corner of his lip curves into a smirk.
Patricia—oblivious to his teasing toward me—rolls her eyes and swats the back of Aiden’s head, earning a fake grunt from him. He puts on an act of being hurt by rubbing the spot where Patricia smacked him.
“That wasn’t nice.” He chuckles and drops his arm on the back of the seat again.
