Chapter 11
11
Daniel
H er eyes were on him. He could feel the way she stared right through his ruined shirt to all the scars and markings he’d hidden for most of his life. Not even his brothers were fully aware of the extent to which he’d been bullied.
Despite having a fresh wound to have to worry about, the other markings burned hotter. It wasn’t that he was ashamed of them. He wasn’t. They were simply a part of his past. Daniel just didn’t like answering the questions he knew she’d ask.
He didn’t want to have to relive the moments when his head had been pushed into the mud while bigger kids hit him with sticks they’d found. Or the time when he’d gone swimming at the creek only to be ambushed and have rocks thrown at his body.
Daniel shut his eyes tight as they rode back to the Palmers’ property. It was too late not to relive the nightmares. He’d hated the stillness that had come between them when she’d seen the markings. But more than that, he’d hated the way he’d wanted to lean into her soft touch when she’d traced the worst of them.
Aria didn’t speak. She knew what abuse looked like. Perhaps that was why she wasn’t asking him a barrage of questions right now. Or maybe she pitied him.
His scowl deepened and he tightened his grip on the leather reins in his hands. There was some part of him that had actually believed he’d never have to show those scars to anyone. They were the only evidence he had that he’d been weak—that he couldn’t fend for himself.
So why had he let her?
Because he was too stubborn to go to the hospital and he already knew he wouldn’t be able to reach it to clean it himself. He’d been up against a wall with no escape in the matter.
Another burning sensation skittered along the scar where she’d touched it. While he hated that she’d seen them, he couldn’t deny that they were somehow tethered together now. She knew all his secrets. Time would tell if she avoided him now or if she sought him out.
Daniel peeked at her the best he could without getting noticed. She was staring down at her horse rather than looking ahead. He knew that look. The one that said she felt sorry for him.
The second they were back at the barn, Daniel dismounted and strode over to Aria. He didn’t utter a word to her as he wrapped his arms around her waist and lifted her from the saddle. He placed her on her feet and moved to take the reins.
“Daniel?”
He paused, but only for a moment. “You should clean up. Get some rest.” Daniel said it without looking at her. He couldn’t bear the faux sympathy she might be demonstrating.
“I wasn’t the one who got hurt.”
His voice was rough and held no room for argument. “Trauma is trauma. Emotional, physical, mental, it hits us the same in here.” He turned and tapped his temple. Regret instantly washed over him when he met her gaze. She was sad—for him. His jaw tightened. Hopefully she’d finally get the hint and keep her distance. There was a reason he kept people at arm’s length.
Maybe he was ashamed.
Daniel turned from her and led the horses away.
A growl slipped from his lips as he shoved a finger through the gaping hole in his favorite shirt. It was worn, but it had held up to his constant use. Now he’d have to throw it out. Frustration rumbled through his chest, and he balled up the offensive garment before throwing it across the room.
Daniel crouched over and dug his hands into his hair before surging to his feet and pacing through the small space. A fire crackled quietly in the hearth, but it did nothing to chase away the cold feeling that had started to grow the second he’d seen the look on Aria’s face.
It shouldn’t matter. He’d wanted to keep his distance. At least, that’s what he needed to tell himself if only to get her out of his head.
He’d been wrong.
The second he’d learned of her own past experiences with abuse, he’d felt a connection with her. They’d both dealt with feeling weak. They’d both had to claw themselves out of a desperate situation.
They were the same.
Daniel growled out a fresh sound of frustration. They’d seen each other’s scars—figuratively and literally. Was that why her reaction had bothered him so much? They’d shifted their friendship into something more intimate—something he hadn’t thought he’d ever wanted to share with another person.
He’d been alone for so long. Quietly letting his life move forward without anyone else. Lonely. Perhaps it was time to finally take control of his life like he had when he’d finally stood up to those bullies.
But that had gotten him into trouble.
He’d spent more than one night at the sheriff’s station, tight-lipped beside a bloody and bruised assailant. The unwanted attention he’d drawn to his family had been threat enough for him to set aside his fists and become the looming threat rather than being carted off to prison.
Daniel stopped his pacing and stared at his hands, flexing them. He’d nearly forgotten how close he’d come to getting his siblings split up and put in the foster system. Wade had to come pick him up from county too many times.
Their quiet conversation about protecting their family meant doing things that weren’t inherently violent. It meant keeping their heads down.
So he did.
Daniel wouldn’t be returning to that life. He wouldn’t become violent, but he could fight for what he wanted.
And he wanted Aria.
A knock startled him from his thoughts and his head snapped toward the door. With cautious steps, he crossed the space. His hand hovered over the knob. There wasn’t a question in his mind who was standing on the other side of that doorway. Aria had brought him dinner.
The only question he had was whether she’d be staying.
He wanted her to.
More than anything he wanted her to stay and pretend that nothing had happened.
And if she questioned him about those scars? About the fights he’d been in when he was a hothead?
Would he be able to give her the full truth?
Daniel drew in a deep breath and turned the knob. Aria breezed past him into the kitchen, a cardboard box in one hand and a shopping bag in the other. He stood frozen by the door, watching her with hooded eyes as she flipped open the box before crossing over to a cupboard to get a plate.
Her eyes flicked toward him, then shifted to the door. “You’re letting in all the cold air.”
He followed her focus and gently pushed the door shut before leaning against it. “I didn’t think you’d come.”
Aria gifted him with a disbelieving look. “We’ve eaten dinner together every night. Why wouldn’t I show?”
Daniel rubbed at a spot on his chest—another scar that seemed to burn with the memories of his past life.
Her eyes followed the movement and her whole body went still before she lifted them to his face again. A whole conversation seemed to pass between them, unspoken. Then she resumed her task of placing slices of pepperoni pizza on two separate plates.
Aria held one out to him, expectant.
Daniel wasn’t sure he could move his feet even if he wanted to. Right now, it felt safer to block the door so she wouldn’t escape. But the second that thought passed through his mind, guilt followed. She’d been manipulated and abused. How could he live with himself if he became a controlling force in her life?
Slowly, he pushed against the door and accepted her offering.
Aria took her plate in her hand, grabbed the shopping bag with the other and headed for the couch. “I hope you know where the disinfectant is here. I’m going to do a more thorough cleaning of your wound before I go. And if it still looks as bad as it did out on the trail, I’m going to make you come with me to urgent care.”
“I’m not going,” he ground out. “I’ve had worse.”
“Yeah, I noticed.”
He flinched, and she grimaced.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to?—”
“It’s fine.” Daniel moved to sit beside her, keeping more space between them than he wanted. He gestured to the pizza. “I didn’t know you knew about fast food.”
Aria’s look of confusion indicated clearly that his attempt at a joke failed miserably.
Daniel cleared his throat, trying again. “Because you’ve only ever brought me home-cooked meals.”
She didn’t even crack a smile. All she did was stare at him. That unnerving gaze was impossible to hide from. He couldn’t even force himself to focus on his food when she looked at him like that. Aria tilted her head. “I wanted to apologize?—”
“You don’t have to?—”
“Yes, I do. I did something stupid and you…” Finally, she looked away, color washing over her face. “You saved me,” she whispered. With a jerk of her hand, she held out the bag.
It was a nondescript shopping bag one might get from any of the boutique stores in town. He didn’t want a gift or an apology. Had she gone against his explicit request and dismounted her horse? Yes. But what he’d done to help her… anyone would have done the same.
Daniel stared at the bag, not moving. “No, thanks.”
She shook it slightly, her cheeks reddening further. “Just take it. I had to guess on the size, but the receipt is still in the bag, so you can take it back if you want.”
Curiosity got the better of him and he took the bag while she continued to ramble.
“I did my best to get the right color, but it’s not exactly in season. Browns and reds are more prevalent…” Her voice died off when she noticed he’d pulled the fabric from the bag.
It was a pale blue, long-sleeved t-shirt. It was on the thinner side—breathable and something that would be ideal for the current season. It had a collar with three buttons, but they were currently fastened.
Daniel traced a hand over the shirt with reverence. It was soft and void of any stains or small tears. He didn’t know exactly why, but his chest felt like it was expanding beyond what was healthy. He glanced up at Aria and murmured, “You got me a shirt.”
“It was the least I could do,” Aria whispered. “I know you liked that one.”
His brows creased as he shifted his attention to the garment. “How?”
She snorted. “You wear it like every other day.”
A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, and he returned his focus to her again. There weren’t words for what this meant to him. His blue shirt had been one of the first articles of clothing his brother had gotten him. He’d never been able to get rid of it even though he could purchase a replacement.
But this shirt? The one in his hands? It would be something he treasured for a whole different reason.
Aria had picked it out for him. She’d actually seen him—noticed him.
“Go out with me.” The words spilled from his lips before he had a chance to realize what he was asking, before he could stop himself from looking a fool. Daniel held his breath as he watched her closely. This was it. She could push him away, brush him off, and tell him he wasn’t her type. Then he’d have to keep his distance and pick up the shattered pieces of his broken pride.
A small smile touched her lips. “I’d love to.”