Zach’s eyes are glossy.
I say quietly, “You’re the first person I’ve told that to.” And then my tears really start flowing. I’m sobbing.
Zach comes over and puts his arm around me, rubbing my back. “Go ahead and cry. Let it all out.”
“I’m sorry, Zach,” I say between sobs. “This was too much for me to unload on you.”
“Aiden, it’s too much for you tohold in. You need to let these things out.”
“I can’t believe I betrayed Marcus.”
Zach grabs me by the shoulders and looks into my eyes. “No! Listen. You didn’t betray Marcus. Connor pushed you, and he went too far. Once you said ‘no’ and he didn’t stop, that was assault.”
“But I didn’t stop him at first. I let it happen.”
“You didn’t let it happen. You fought back. It wasn’t something you asked for or wanted. A shock like that can take time to process. Don’t confuse your moment’s hesitation as anything else. You did the right thing. It was Connor’s fault. Andonlyhis.”
Zach’s words are comforting. But I’m not sure I’m ready to forgive myself yet. Zach wasn’t there. He didn’t feel what I felt.
Chapter Eighteen
Not In Kansas Anymore
ZACH
We sit by the fire until the logs have turned to embers. Aiden’s eyes look heavy, and his shoulders slump.
His story weighs on me, but I’m glad to help him. Glad to let him get his trauma out in the open. Wounds can only heal if they have room to breathe. A lot of things make more sense now. The fear I saw in his eyes at the campfire last night when we got close. The names he calls in his dreams. The way he’s always pulling away. All these terrible things he’s been through mixed up together, along with Marcus’s death. And Aiden’s been holding it all in.
“I think I need to go to bed,” Aiden says quietly.
“Yeah. Some rest will do you good.”
It’s early yet, but the evening was so emotionally draining. The extra sleep will be good for both of us.
It’s a warm night, and the stars are too spectacular to ignore, so we sleep outside our tents. I convince Aiden to put our bedrolls next to each other for safety’s sake. In reality, I want to keep an eye on him to be sure he’s okay. He doesn’t object.
We’re in our own sleeping bags, but as I lie there, I wish we were together in one. I want to comfort him and hold him close. But Aiden has opened up to me, and I don’t want to take advantage of him in a vulnerable state.
Sleep doesn’t come easy with everything on my mind. Aiden’s soft, rhythmic breathing breaks the quiet of the evening. As I stare up into the vastness of space, my mind travels far, pondering life and existence. Aiden stirs in his sleep, rolls his body toward mine, and hooks his arm around me. A tingle goes through me as the entire length of his body presses against mine.
“Oh, hi,” I say under my breath with a barely audible laugh. His breathing is deep and consistent, and he’s still sound asleep. Without disturbing him, I turn on my side with my back to his front and nuzzle in. I want this moment to last forever.
We wake up together when the sun comes streaming over the foothills. Aiden yanks his arm away and looks a little startled.
“Sorry.” His face turns various shades of crimson. It’s adorable.
“It’s okay. I don’t mind.” I send him a warm smile.
His expression softens with the hint of a smile. He’s okay with the affection. That little gesture sends warmth through my body.
It doesn’t take us long to get packed and head out. We don’t say much, but Aiden’s mood seems lighter. It’s barely perceptible but undeniable.
We’ve left the vast open plains of central Montana and into densely forested mountains. The farther we get away from Missoula, the fewer cars show up along the side of the road. It’s been a while since we’ve found much gasoline, so we stop at almost every car to siphon. We find a few gallons, but we’re using gas faster than we find it. We’ve already gone through most of the backup gas cans. What this Camaro gains from sheer coolness is lost in lousy mileage.
After a couple of hours of driving, we pass a sign.
Idaho Panhandle National Forest.
