“Okay.” My voice is small, unsteady, the only sound my own tight throat will allow. I wait, holding my breath, for him to collect himself, for his shoulders to rise.
“When Aaron was alive, I was never alone. Ever. Even when I moved away, even when he was at his sickest, I was never alone, not really. I never believed in all that mystical twin shit, especially because of the way—” He breaks off again, rubs a hand over his hair, back to front, that now-familiar gesture. “Because of how different Aaron and I were. People used to think I was older than him, because I was so much bigger, that I’d got held back a grade or two. But then when he died, I got it. I’ve never been so alone in my life.”
“I’m so sorry,” I say, because I am. I may be done apologizing for Aaron’s death, for the job I did. But I will never stop being sorry that Aiden has this pain, no matter what’s happened with us.
He shakes his head, a firm, focusedno. “You’re the hero of this story,” he says, fierce and plain, the clearest he’s spoken since he sat down. “You were my rescue boat, Zo.”
“Your—what?”
“My rescue boat. I was on this island, all by myself, and you cameto rescue me.”
“Aiden,I’m not sure—”
“The island is where I’ve been since he died. Or maybe it’s where I always was, but I used to have him there with me. He died and he took half of me with him, I guess, and damn if I didn’t know what to do. Damn if I didn’t feel like I’d die on that island too.”
I flatten my hands on the blotter, purse my lips and lean forward, any movement to remind him we’re in public, that there are people listening. The Aiden I know would never want anyone to hear this. But he barrels on, talking right over my propriety, maybe even getting alittle louder.
“I thought it was the camp that was going to be the making of me, or the—the remaking of me? The way I’d get put back together. But the minute I met you, Zo, I should’ve seen it was you. You came to rescue me and I should have known it a long time ago. I never laughed so much as I did with you, never in my life, and you’re probably not going to believe that, seeing as how I kept it as hidden as I kept everything else with you. But I laughed all the time,on the inside.”
My heart is beating so fast and my skin feels so flushed—I’m overwhelmed for myself, concerned for him, unsure of how I should respond to something so public, so different. His hair is a mess, and up close I can see that his t-shirt is on inside out. I lean forward, try to see if I can smell alcohol on him, even though I’ve never seen him drink more than a single beer at a time. I just—I don’t know what todo.
I cling to the only thing I can in the moment. “Did you—have you heard anything about the camp?”
He ignores me. “That day you came to see me, that was the day I got off that island. That’s the day my story got going again. You weren’t an opportunity I saw. That’s the worst thing I’ve ever said in my life, and you don’t know how much I wish I could take that back. You were the beginning of everything for me. And I know you’ve got every reason not to be with me. I panicked that day at the lodge. I couldn’t see past my own grief and guilt, couldn’t see what you’d known all along about me and that camp. And I know I’m fucked up. I know I’m grouchy and antisocial and I’m guessing your friends don’t think anything good about me at all. But I wanted to come here, and tell you that I love you.”
He’s said it loud enough that Kori gasps a little, and I’m pretty sure Marisela is giving heart eyes to the back of his head while she scoots her chair a little to the side, trying to get a better look at him. I notice these things because I don’t know what to do with what he’s just said. I’ve spent the last two weeks in hell, missing him, hating him, loving him.
Hating myselffor loving him.
“I think I’ve loved you since you fainted in my driveway. Since you handed me my ass at darts. I should’ve told you that a hundred times before now. I should have followed you right out of that lodge, should have known I only had one shot to get off that island with you and I fucking blew it, and I will regret it every day of my life, Zo, I promise you that.”
“Aiden, please, this is—”This is too much, too hard,I want to say. I will never move on from this.
“I know I messed up our ending. For the story, I mean. I don’t expect anything from you. You’ve done more for me than I’ve ever deserved. But if you call me, Zo, if you ever call me, or need me, I’ll come. I owe you everything, and I will love you even if you never let me see your face again. You are the best person, my favorite person, the only person I needed to prove that there was still something good for me in this life after Aaron.”
He stands then, the chair scraping across the floor, and looks down at me, not like he’s just told me he loves me but more like he’s about to do ten paces before a duel. If I were in my right mind I’d be able to laugh at how comically, out-of-place aggressive he looks in contrast to all the perfect, soft, beautiful things hehas just said.
But I’m not in my right mind. I’m in my shocked, overtired, on-the-verge-of-tears mind. I love him back—of course I love him back—but I’m hurt right down to the center of myself and I am terrified of everything. I don’t even move.
He leans across the desk and down, presses a firm kiss to the top of my head, so I’m looking right at the notch in his throat that smells so good, where I’ve pressed my nose to him a dozen times, and my eyes sting with the tears I’m holding back.
He doesn’t see them, because he doesn’t look again. He just turns and leaves the way he came, all his words clanging around the room behind him.
Chapter 20
Aiden
“I don’t know, man,” says Ahmed, wiping the back of his hand across his brow. “I wouldn’t have gone to where she works.”
“Oh, you don’t know,” says Charlie. “You’ve asked Betty on a date at her work once a weeksince October.”
“She’s gonna come around,” Ahmed says, leaning down to roll up another length of carpet. “I think she likes my beard.”
“I think she likes more ironic facial hair. One of her bartenders has a mustache that curls at the ends,” Charlie answers, but she’s teasing. I’m pretty sure Ahmed’s right, actually, and Betty will come around. The guy’s damned charming, after all.
We’re at my place, the three of us and my pop, tearing out the carpet in the living room. Yesterday I’d done the hallway, and over the next couple of days I’ll get after the bedrooms too. My mom’s back in the kitchen, working steadily through the cabinets, a big donation box set on the table, ridding the space of extra small appliances and utensils, all the stuff she left here but that I never really use.
It was my idea, that morning after I’d woken up on the floor in Aaron’s room, cold and stiff jointed, to get to work on this house, cleaning it up, updating it as best I can. Can’t say yet what I’m doing it for—whether I’ll sell it and start over in a place of my own, or make this place into something new. Either way, it’s been a good distraction, and especially good over the last two days, while I’ve done exactly what Ahmed’s doing right now—ruminating over whether I made a mistake, going to Zoe.
