Chapter 20 #2
We’d agreed quickly on the sleeping arrangements: Britt and Taylor would take his bed—without him in it, I made sure to clarify.
Dom would crash on the couch, and Kali would take my bed.
Ayden said he’d cleaned the bedding in our parents’ room and warned it may smell like all-purpose cleaner.
I remember them having an air mattress one year when the upstairs loft bed was getting replaced.
I told him I’d take that if it was there.
His slight nod of agreement almost made me ask if he had other plans for where I’d sleep… but I didn’t.
I ended up back outside, slinging Taylor over my shoulder after she and Britt nearly went skinny-dipping in the freezing lake.
Once they were finally settled in bed and Dom was comfortable on the couch, Ayden handed out cups of water to each of them before meeting me in the master bedroom.
The room feels empty, despite the king-sized bed against the far wall flanked by two nightstands.
A closet door looms closed to my right, and a cabinet with a built-in electric fireplace sits opposite.
No TV, though I’m sure that’s what the space above it was meant for.
And where there were family portraits, there’s currently nothing.
“I took the photos down and just put them into the drawers in the closet,” Ayden says as he closes the door behind us. “We can put them back up later.”
I release a heavy sigh. “Thanks for doing that…”
Guilt is such an interesting sensation. One that is so difficult to find relief from.
It’s like a disease that’s incurable but isn’t visible on the outside.
One that doesn’t always show itself, but in the midst of the memory of it, crawls across my skin like little needles threatening to break into my muscle.
It’s terrible.
Looking down at him staring at me, I press my lips together and move toward the closet. “The air mattress in here?”
He doesn’t say anything, nor does he nod.
“Why’d you stop drinking tonight?” he asks, just as I’m opening the door to the wardrobe.
“Wasn’t feeling it.” It’s an obvious lie. “Is it?” I flip the light on, seeing boxes stacked on top of one another at the opposite side of the walk-in. “In here.”
“Keo.”
I drop my chin and shrug my shoulders. “I didn’t want you to feel pressured to drink, so I just… stopped. It’s not a big deal.”
He hums softly, and I turn to look in his direction. He has a genuine smile on his lips as he shakes his head. “The air mattress had a hole in it, so I tossed it out on trash collection day.” He puts his hands into his low hanging sweats. “Sorry.”
The groan I release is definitely filled with irritation. “I’m not crawling into bed with Kali, and Dom is basically my size. That couch won’t do.”
Ayden then chuckles and slowly gestures toward the bed.
Nope.
I cannot. I’m not that strong.
“It’s huge, Keo.” He grabs the hem of his shirt, turning toward the bed as he pulls it off slowly, revealing his back. “I’ll put a pillow wall between us.”
I’m not even sure he registers what he’s just done. I’ve seen his chest plenty of times, but never his back. Which—unfortunately for me—is just as distracting.
“If that’ll make you feel more comfortable,” he adds.
And as much as I want to take in every inch of him, it’s the scar that catches me instead. It runs from the middle of his spine all the way down to his tailbone.
“Ayden…”
“Hmm?” He gazes over his shoulder at me, and I think he clocks the shock written all over my face. “Shit.”
“What the fuck happened?” I whisper-shout.
“Goddamn it.” He turns toward me and drops quickly onto the bed, hands covering his face like he can hide from me. “It’s nothing.”
Bull-fucking-shit. He’s not doing this right now. I’m not letting him shut me out again.
I cross the room in a heartbeat, grabbing his shoulder and forcing him onto his side.
“Keo!” he hisses through clenched teeth. Even as he squirms and kicks at me, I keep him pinned long enough to get a closer look. The scar, long and deep, is unmistakably medical.
“Why do you have this? Did someone do this to you?”
His sweats slip low on one side, revealing another scar slashed across his hip.
“Holy shit, Ayden, what—”
“I got into a car accident,” he mumbles, swatting my hand away as he scrambles back until he’s pressed against the headboard, his chest heaving. “Oh my god, you’re strong.”
Swallowing hard, the feeling of guilt already beginning to creep in, I mutter, “Sorry… I didn’t hurt you, did I?”
He shakes his head. “No…” I’m not entirely sure I believe him.
“When was the accident, that scar looks… relatively new.” I should know, I’ve seen plenty of them in my line of work.
“Last year.” He pauses, as if wrestling with the words. I fight the urge to go to him, but the pain etched across his face begs me to take care of him. “I’d been drinking… and I drove my boyfriend and me home. I guess I lost control and wrapped the car around a pole.”
Holy shit. My stomach drops.
“It was bad. I spent a long time recovering. I had surgery on my spine, my leg…” His eyes finally meet mine, and it’s nearly instantly that he starts to hyperventilate.
“Keo, I don’t even remember drinking that much.
I swore I only had one drink. The whole accident is a blur—I don’t remember anything. ”
His words come faster and faster, my head spinning just trying to keep up. He shoots to his feet, pacing the narrow space between the wall and the bed.
“I would’ve never driven drunk. I wouldn’t do that! I don’t even know why—”
“Hey, hey…”
“—he let me drive. I swear I’d never put myself or anyone in danger like that. I’m so fucking stupid for—”
I cross the room in four long strides and cut him off, grabbing the back of his head and pulling him hard into my chest. “Breathe, Ayden. Stop talking and just breathe for me.”
He drags in a shaky breath, his arms wrapping tight around my torso. I fold my other arm over his shoulders, holding him there.
“It’s alright.” I’m not going to press him with questions, but it’s clear now why he doesn’t drink. Why he fears driving. Why he called the Uber that night. Why he’ll likely never touch alcohol again. “I’ve got you. There’s nothing to worry about with me.”
He only shakes his head, staying silent.
I press my cheek lightly to his forehead and close my eyes for a brief moment, letting myself think.
He’s been so afraid to tell me anything real about him. I just want to understand.
Why he can’t let me in.
Why he stayed away until it was too late.
Why I care so fucking much that I’ll ruin everything if I’m not careful. Just like I did eight years ago.
“Come on,” I murmur, stepping back.
Without saying more, I guide him with a hand on his shoulder, turning him toward the bed. He drops his head, and I hate that it falls in shame.
He pulls back the blanket and crawls in, shifting all the way to the far side. I flick off the lamp on the nightstand, kick off my shoes, but keep every layer of clothing on. This isn’t the time to be anything but a friend to Ayden—I won’t risk having anything misconstrued.
Sliding onto the bed, I settle just close enough that I can reach out and touch him if I wanted.
“Tell me. Why are you so worried about letting me in, Ayden?”
His sigh carries the weight of indignation. “I’m afraid of what you’ll think of me. How you’ll… see me…”
Silence stretches between us, and I can’t help but wonder—if he only knew what I’ve done, how much he’d hate me. I’ve never let myself imagine how he’d react if he ever learned the truth of my actions, or the consequences they carried.
“I worry that you’ll be the one to disappear, and this time, not come back,” he murmurs. “Like I did.”
I slide one arm under my pillow, and with the other, I reach out, letting my hand rest at the center of his back.
“You’re wrong, sunshine… so fucking wrong.”