26. Chapter Twenty-Six #2
I scoot closer to her back, nuzzling into her neck, and place a lingering kiss on the part of her shoulder not covered by the old T-shirt. As I do, she relaxes, but when her buttocks rub against my cock already standing at half-mast, I bite my lip.
Not now.
“I’m here, sweetheart.” I clear the groggy sleep away from my voice. “You’re not alone, Mae. Sleep now.”
Her fingers run up my arm, then down to find my hand, and when she links our fingers, I swear I hear the loud, resounding thud of my heart falling at her feet.
“Aidan?”
It feels like I’ve only just fallen asleep the next time I wake up.
“What is it?” I croak.
“Thirsty…”
“Right.”
I release our fingers and lean away from her to turn on the bedside lamp.
I squint against the sharp light, then take one of the glasses with water and balance it carefully as I turn back around to face her.
I push my arm underneath her head, lifting her to a more comfortable position.
She grabs the glass, both her hands on top of mine, and guzzles down half of it.
“Steady there, sweetheart.”
She raises her eyes over the rim of the glass and looks at me as she takes smaller sips now.
I keep her gaze locked with mine, and it strikes me how strong the woman in my arms must be, coming here to the village and living on her own without any family close by to go to when she needs someone to lean on.
Something foreign settles in my chest, scarily close to my heart, but I push it away.
I flick her long hair off her forehead and lean down to put my lips to it.
I try to tell myself that this isn’t me being worried about her. I just don’t want her to be miserable.
She stiffens in my arms. “What are you doing?”
I push away from her and settle her head back on the pillow. “Just checking if you still have a fever.”
She raises her eyebrows. “And you can tell from putting your mouth on my forehead?”
I nod and take the now-empty glass from her. “My mum taught me that when Katie was little and I didn’t have a thermometer close at hand.” I shrug and shuffle back to my own side of the bed. “Your fever’s broken, so that’s good.”
She arches her brow. “Why are you in my bed?”
“It seemed like the best thing to do at the time.” I pick up my mobile and check the time. “It’s three in the morning. Best get back to sleep.”
“You’re going to stay here?”
I bark out a laugh. “Are you kicking me out?”
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to sound ungrateful. It’s just that…”
I turn away to switch off the light again and settle on my back, trying not to let her reluctance sting. “It’s just what?” I yawn.
“I’m not used to sleeping with someone else.”
I find her hand in the dark and link our fingers together. “What about your fiancé? Surely, he stayed at your place?”
I hear ruffling and look back at her, narrowing my eyes when she shakes it from side to side. Her frown tells me all I need to know.
“He didn’t.” Her words are so small, and a crack splits my heart in two. “He said he preferred to stay at his place because of his job. It was easier.”
I seethe, angry beyond words that the faceless fucker didn’t even give her that. “What a fucking prick.”
“I never should’ve let it get as far as it did,” she whispers. “But that’s what most people don’t understand…”
I keep a close eye on her, afraid that if I as much as blink, I’ll miss the vital pieces of herself that she’s sharing with me.
“What don’t they understand?”
“What you’re willing to do to feel less alone. That you will give up the real you just so that they won’t give up on you. To let them believe that you’re enough, even when you know you aren’t.”
My heart bleeds at the crack in her voice. I tighten my hand in hers once more.
“You listen to me, Maeve Gallagher, and you listen carefully, because you need to fucking hear me.”
Her mouth opens on a long exhale as she turns watery eyes towards me.
“It grates on my nerves that you’d for a single moment ever think that you aren’t enough,” I murmur hotly. “Do you hear me? No one makes you feel less than the grand, caring, beautiful person that you are. Not ever again.”
She wipes a tear off her cheeks, her lips tipping up at the corners.
“I think I just needed someone to say that to me for once. Doesn’t that make me weak?
That’s what I meant when I told you that I wasn’t very brave.
I think there’s a small part of me that’s broken, Aidan.
Maybe it won’t ever heal, because I’m not even sure why I feel it. I just know that something is missing.”
I turn on my side again to face her and tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. I rest my hand on her neck, the slow beating of her pulse steadying me.
“We’re all a little broken. You’ll find your missing piece. You’re a fighter. A warrior. You’ll heal. And you want to know the best part?”
“What’s that?”
“That you’ll do it yourself. You don’t need someone else to do the healing for you. Not me, not the village…not even Mrs. McCarthy.”
Her giggle is the sweetest sound, and exactly the reaction I was trying to get out of her. I could listen to her laugh all night if I let myself.
But she might not even be aware that she’s still ill, and we both need our sleep.
I caress the side of her cheek for a few seconds longer, then force myself to let her go. I turn back and flip the light switch, leaving the room in the dim, early-morning light.
“Don’t worry so much, Mae. Let’s go back to sleep.”
I squeeze her hand and settle back on my side. I need to show her that I care for her, and that I’m here for her. I’m halfway off to sleep when she tightens her fingers around mine.
“Whatever’s broken inside you, Aidan?”
“Yeah?”
Hope jumps in my chest, pressing in so hard that I can scarcely breathe.
“I hope you find your missing piece, too. Thank you for staying with me,” she whispers.
She sounds so small that it tugs at my heartstrings. She’s not the self-assured, controlled woman I’ve gotten to know. The woman who’ll sit alone in a pub and do crosswords and have a chat with villagers, even when it takes so much energy out of her to talk with strangers.
“Don’t mention it.”
I push my right leg between hers, tucking her ankle under my foot, and wait for her to drift off to sleep. Soon after, her breaths even out again, and only then do I allow myself to follow her into a deep, dreamless sleep, holding our entwined hands against my chest.
Right over my heart.