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“Yes, ma’am,” he said, his hand moving to the back of his neck in a gesture Charlotte had seen plenty of times before.
“Come on. Let’s get this stuff to my room. I don’t wanna leave my computer in the car too long in this heat.”
Aiden picked up one box and followed her into the living room.
The space looked the same as she remembered it. A large sectional couch covered in throw blankets and a ton of pillows in a variety of bold colors formed an L-shape around a large, square coffee table decorated with tiny plants and candles in cute gemstone holders.
“That’s Molly,” she said, pointing to the long-haired black Persian cat sauntering into the room from the kitchen. The cat walked up to them, brushed herself along Aiden’s leg, and then sashayed away to the front corner of the living room, jumping up onto her custom cat tree her mothers commissioned.
They had it designed like an actual tree growing in the corner of the room with carpeted platforms in various places for climbing, scratching, and lounging. The tree had one long branch with a flat surface to allow Molly to lord over her loyal subjects. The platform branch spanned one wall of the living room, passing over the entertainment center decorated with more candles and plant life, and another went in the opposite direction over the bay window facing the front yard.
“Will you be joining us for dinner, Aiden?” her mom called from the kitchen as Charlotte led Aiden toward her bedroom.
His gaze met Charlotte’s, his brows flexing, indecision crossing his face. She chose to save him from the awkwardness. She didn’t want him to stay if he didn’t want to be around. His job was done. He got her home safely.
“I think he probably needs to settle in back at the academy before he does anything like that.” She gave him a tight smile. “Isn’t that right?”
“Yeah, I haven’t seen Riley yet. She’s going to give me an earful.”
Her mom frowned, placing the romaine heart she took from the refrigerator onto the cutting board. She peered across the kitchen island separating her from where they stood. “Why would she do that? She sees you every day.”
Discomfort settled in Charlotte’s chest, tightening behind her sternum. She hadn’t told her parents that Aiden had stayed with her yet. She forgot to mention it when she called and said she was coming home, only mentioning Aiden was going to drive her. She planned to explain everything once she settled in.
Sighing, she said, “It’s a long story. I want to explain it when both of you are here.”
Her mom hummed an acknowledgment, looking satisfied with the answer—for now. She returned to the refrigerator. “It’s taco night.” She straightened, holding two tomatoes. “Did you want soft or hard shells?”
“Both?”
Her mom smiled. “Both, it is.”
Charlotte led Aiden into her room, her shoulders slumping as she crossed the threshold. The happiness she felt at being home burst like a bubble, evaporating into nothingness.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, placing the box on the floor near the foot of her full-sized bed.
She climbed across the bare mattress to pull back the sheer black curtains that matched the black and silver celestial bedding she’d taken to her apartment. Opening the window to let in air to refresh the room after her absence, she turned to him and sat on the bed.
“I forgot to mention you were staying with me. All the times we spoke before I told them I was coming home, it never dawned on me to say anything.”
Aiden’s jaw muscle twitched. “You don’t have to tell them. About me, I mean. You should definitely tell them about what’s going on though.”
“You don’t want them to know?”
“I don’t want to cause you any problems.” He smoothed a hand over the side of his neck. “I’m gonna go get your computer and the other box I left on the porch.” Without another word, he turned away and left her sitting there, confused and more than a little hurt.
He hadn’t brought up their night together once in the last week, not since the morning he’d checked on her before her shower. Nor had he attempted to make any physical contact. Not even a hug. It was like he made a concentrated effort to put as much physical distance between them as possible.
It hurt.
What hurt more was that he acted like everything was fine—at least until they returned home. He had been attentive. Talkative. Anticipated her needs before she realized she needed something. It was like he was overcompensating for distancing himself.
All of it would be fine if she hadn’t become so attached. If she didn’t see the heat in his eyes at night when she got ready for bed. She didn’t understand what held him back, beyond what she suspected would be a problem. He came from a different lifestyle than she did. Expectations and lineage.
She tried to tell herself it was all in her head. Insecurity. He wasn’t the type to act that way, but she didn’t know how else to explain the sudden shift.
Did he regret sleeping with her?
As they crossed into town, he seemed to grow colder, more distant than before. It was a side to him she’d never experienced, and it made her regret ever sleeping with him.
