Chapter 12 #2
This dark side of him surprises me. I would have pictured him as a well-behaved kid, always on the right side of the law. But that’s just based on how he is now.
I remind myself that people change. I know that firsthand.
“Another kid I knew got involved. Naturally, I won.” Aaron gives a little self-deprecating chuckle. “But he followed me when we left the club. Stabbed me in the back.”
His fingers move toward the scar instinctively. I realize he means that the kid literally stabbed him in the back.
I sit up and look closer at the scar that traces down his side. As a nurse, I have an idea of what kind of wound would leave a scar of that magnitude. I had always assumed the scar came from work. A big fire, an accident, a rescue that painted him as the hero.
“Let me see the scar,” I demand.
He sits up so that I can take a closer look at it. The jagged edge where the knife would have gone in, the groove in the skin where it healed together—the wound must have been deep.
“A cut like this—you could have died,” I finally say.
“I could have,” he confirms. “I lay there on the sidewalk for a long time, thinking about everything I had done wrong. And the blood… I had no idea that so much could come out of one wound. And there were no cell phones back then.”
“Someone saved you,” I intuit, sensing the hopeful shift in the tone of his voice.
He nods once. “It was pure chance. A firefighter was on his way home from dinner, taking the scenic route. I was too scared to call out to him for help. I had no idea if any of the other kids I fought were around, but this guy—he stepped right in my path.”
“A firefighter,” I echo, reflecting on what it meant to him.
“He called it in, and the ambulance was there in a flash. He never left my side. Applied first aid while we waited. He even came with me to the hospital instead of going home.”
He swallowed, emotion evident on his face.
“He saved my life. When I realized what it meant, I vowed to do the same for others. I left it all behind with a little help and went to the academy.”
“That’s how you came to be a hero,” I conclude. “You should tell that story more often. It paints you in a new light.”
“Now you know why I do what I do.” He shrugs, pulling me back into the circle of his arms. “Now, you tell me why you do what you do. Why did you become a nurse?”
I think about the reason why I went into nursing. Everyone I know has a reason for their work, but mine is far less impressive than Aaron’s. Still, he makes me feel like it matters, so I tell him.
“My dad was diagnosed with skin cancer when I was in high school.” It’s the simplest answer with the most straightforward logic. “By the time they found it, it was pretty far along. Metastasized to his lungs, so hard to treat.”
Sometimes, I miss my dad so much it hurts. I wish he could be here to see Noah grow up. To offer me parenting advice. He and my mom made my childhood absolutely magical—until he got sick.
“We spent a lot of time in the hospital after that. He looked so frail in those massive hospital beds. He was so fragile at the end,” I correct. “And the one person who always gave him dignity was his nurse.”
Every nurse he had, without exception, treated him like a real person with a real family and real feelings. He was never just a chart or a bed that needed their attention.
Aaron watches me relive the past all over again.
“The doctors tried to give answers. Treatments. But it was the nurses who took care of him, who did the hard work. They really helped my whole family. We rested easier knowing he was in good hands.”
“And now you’re the one with the good hands,” he says with a tender look, as if seeing me in a new light.
“I like to think that my dad would want to have me as a nurse if he were still here. That I could be the one to care for him, if he had gotten sick just a few years later.”
“But James was in a band,” Aaron says, shifting gears. “You never wanted to travel? Go on the road with him?”
“That was his thing,” I clarify. “We never really made sense, not even when we were kids. But James was there for me when my dad was dying. We grew really close. By the time I felt better, I felt like I owed him.”
I shrug, just like he had when he hit the hard part of his story. “He lived his dream while I lived mine, here at the same hospital where my dad died. When I couldn’t be there with him, James got into drugs. And the rest is history.”
“You’re so strong,” Aaron praises, kissing my bare shoulder with sensual lips. “Not every woman could live through what you did. Not while being a great mom and a nurse.”
“I could say the same about you.”
We both fall silent. I imagine that we’re both thinking about what we just shared. Nothing about that confession felt casual, but it also didn’t feel like a marriage proposal.
I could convince myself that it meant less than it did. That it was just idle talk to fill the hours we were spending in bed together. Even if my heart feels otherwise.
“We should get to sleep,” Aaron says after a while, when we both realize that there’s nothing more to say.
I tilt my head up toward him for one last goodnight kiss. As his lips find mine in the dark, it’s gentler than any kiss we’ve shared so far. His lips brush against mine, a whisper of a touch. It’s the kind of kiss that lingers, that doesn’t feel in a hurry to go anywhere.
The kind of kiss that could last for minutes—or days.
When he pulls back to catch his breath, I rest my head back on his chest to keep it from escalating. After our conversation, I know that any sex we have now will be emotionally charged, past the point of no return.
It won’t be the hot, passionate sex we had in the shower, with his hand clamped over my mouth. It would be everything I’ve been avoiding.
I close my eyes, even out my breathing, and pretend to fall asleep quickly. In reality, my skin buzzes with the warmth and closeness of Aaron in my bed, different from how it felt the night Noah wasn’t home.
Eventually, my brain decides to let me sleep, the most restful night I’ve had in years.