Chapter 18
CHAPTER 18
“ J une,” Aiden exclaimed, rushing forward so he knelt beside her by the time she finally landed hard on the ground.
She blinked up at him a few times, dazed. “Ow,” she said at last.
He went into immediate doctor mode, checking her neck for breaks, her head for bleeding, her pupils for dilation. “Lie still, June.”
“I’m okay,” June said, her voice soft and faint.
“Let’s wait and see what the doctor says,” Aiden replied.
She snickered a laugh and winced. “I’m not sure we can continue on this path if you begin referring to yourself in the third person.”
He pressed his hand to her forehead, smiling. “I’m sorry I dropped you. I really am in danger of losing that man card.”
She took his free hand between both hers. “Aiden, I think we both know this isn’t your fault.”
“I’m the one who dropped you,” he insisted.
“I’m the one who took a nervous plummet,” she said, and now it was his turn to snicker.
“There’s no such thing as a nervous plummet.”
“Wanna bet?” she asked, wincing again.
“How badly does it hurt?” he asked. “Want me to get you some ice?”
“I’m not sure there is ice. I should probably go to the store.”
“Forget about it. We’ll get take out.”
“You sure know how to treat a lady,” she said.
“Step one: bash her head into a wall,” Aiden said, tossing her an overtly sexy wink.
She snorted a laugh and pressed the hand she was holding to her mouth. “What other moves do you have?”
He shook his head. “I’m saving them to spring on you, one by one.”
“Diabolical,” she said, closing her eyes and taking a breath.
“Sweet girl, are you really okay?” he asked, his thumb smoothing gently over her brow.
“I promise I’m fine. It was a little bump. But Aiden, seriously, you have to stop charming me or neither of us will survive to see this through.”
“I can’t seem to help myself sometimes, June. You’re kind of irresistible.”
“I don’t believe you,” she said. “Also, you have to resist, for the sake of our health.” She flipped his hand and kissed his palm.
“But I like being affectionate with you,” he said, somewhat pouty, probably. “It feels good and fills up all the lonely places.”
“I’m all for affection. It’s the stuff beyond that that leads to doom.”
“How can I tell the difference?” he asked. Even now he wanted to kiss her again. She was so close, so lovely, so tempting.
“Treat me like one of your sisters.”
Aiden grimaced. “I think maybe I threw up in my mouth a little.”
June giggled. “Sister-ish? Sister-approximate?”
He stared down at her, blond hair in a tousled bun, beautiful face tipped searchingly toward his, and knew he would never be able to pull off a family vibe. “I’ll aim for friendly.” He would have to try to think of her the way he had when he and Erica were still together—off limits. But even thinking the words left a sour feeling in his stomach. His heart was in tatters; he was emotionally exhausted. And yet he wanted June, in every possible way. How was it possible to be both things? To be broken and yearning all together?
She must have sensed some of his thoughts because she put out a hand, touching his temple. “Aiden, if you keep looking at me like that, I’m going to start to seriously doubt your judgment. Besides my dad and brother, you’re the one man who knows everything, all the back story, all the critical flaws. You of all people should be running away screaming right now.”
He sank from a crouch to a full sitting position, his hand still clasped in hers and resting on her clavicle. “I wouldn’t run from your flaws, June, your word, not mine. I should be running and hiding from my gaping emotional wound.”
“I propose we write a song about our combined devastation and call it Gaping Emotional Wound.”
“At last, a good use of our time.”
They shared a smile, the air around them feeling thick and cozy with combined misery. One thing was certain: they were in this together. The thought brought both of them an immense amount of comfort. To not be alone in the midst of such suffering was worth more than anything else. “What are we going to do today, really?” Aiden asked. He couldn’t seem to clear his brain enough to plot a course. Every time he tried to peel back the layers and come up with a plan, pain started to intrude. So he retreated, telling himself he’d deal with it later, half hoping later would never show up.
“We need to unpack, settle in, make this place our own.” Her gaze stole slowly around the house. His followed, trying to see it from her point of view.
“You don’t like it here,” he surmised.
“Of course I do, I helped design it. My dad and brother built it,” she insisted.
He poked her shoulder.
“It’s very white,” she admitted.
He smiled, staring at all the—many—white walls. Erica was a huge fan of white walls. Colored walls bring too much mental chatter. White is soothing, more room for thinking. “So paint it.”
“You wouldn’t mind?” June asked.
“June, I think we both know I didn’t want this house and couldn’t care less about what happens to it.”
She began toying with his fingers, nervously. “So, the furniture, for instance.”
“What furniture?” he asked, feeling slightly panicked.
“All the furniture that’s going to be delivered today or tomorrow.”
His eyes bulged. “Furniture?” Erica picked furniture and didn’t tell him?
June nodded. “An entire houseful of…I’m going to be harsh…the most generic gray and beige furniture in the world. If you’re not averse, I thought maybe we could cancel the order and pick out our own stuff together.”
Aiden had to swallow a few times to answer. He had no idea, none whatsoever, that Erica had outfitted the house without him. He was certain in her mind she felt she was checking another thing off the list and taking care of it, but Aiden wondered how much it all cost. And she had walked away, left him with what probably amounted to thousands of dollars more in bills. “Cancel,” he croaked. “Definitely cancel. And then pick whatever you want, June.”
“Hey,” June said softly. “We’re both in this. We’ll figure out together what we want, what makes us happy, okay? There’s no rush.”
He looked around the cavernous abode. “It’s completely empty.”
“We’ll have floor picnics and build forts. It’ll be a blast.”
Aiden couldn’t help but grin at that because it would be a blast. June likely would follow through and make a big production of the floor picnics and forts. She had a talent for making the mundane extraordinary, and he loved it. “Bring it,” he said, not needing to force enthusiasm to his tone. “In the meantime, let’s get you sitting up and make certain you’re not dizzy.” He gave her hand a light tug, urging her to an upright position.
She sat up and twisted her neck gingerly back and forth, testing her range of motion. Aiden was happy with what he saw. His fingers slid to the back of her head and felt a large goose egg, but her pupils looked good and she had no confusion. She closed her eyes as his fingers slid over the knot on her noggin.
“I love to have my hair played with,” she murmured as if it were a shameful confession.
“Well then, it looks like I’ve found a new hobby.”
“Does playing with your wife’s hair count as a hobby?” She asked, and opened her eyes wide as they blinked at each other in shock. “Am I actually your wife?”
His eyes scanned the interior of the cavernous McMansion, landing back at the two of them huddled on the floor, cleaving together for companionship. “I think so, June.”
She sucked a shaky breath. “Okay.”
“This is one of those confusing times for me because it seems like we’re having a moment that should be followed by a kiss but you said I sh…” He stopped talking as she clutched his shirt, pulled him close, and kissed him. He was the one who sighed and sagged into her, stabbing his fingers into her hair like a heroine in a regency romance. Later he would probably feel embarrassed over his heady reaction, but for now he was fully in the moment, fully immersed in her kiss.
She was the first to end it, pulling away to smile up at him. “I should probably stop it before I find a way to light myself on fire or some other improbable calamity.”
Aiden didn’t want her to stop, ever. He was willing to risk fire or anything else, just to keep it going. But it was important for June to feel comfortable in this new uncharted territory and she clearly didn’t suffer the same malfunction he did—the ability to be a walking hormone in the midst of great personal tragedy. So he hugged her tightly instead, trying to get his mind, breathing, and body back under control.
This is June, my friend. Only my friend. Also my wife. But not really, not like that. I wish. No I don’t. Have you seen her? Smelled her? Tasted her? Stop it. Think about calculus. Think about that case of cellulitis you treated last week, the one that smelled like gangrene.
Thinking about his job helped. It was the distraction he needed to reel himself back in, let go of June, and place a brotherly kiss on her forehead, one she returned in the form of a kiss on his chin.
He closed his eyes and inhaled the sweet scent of her, repressing a groan. And we’re back, you utterly hopeless moron.