Chapter 8
AIDEN
I can't believe she did that. Dara saw my scars and didn't run or act disgusted. She didn't ask me about what happened or if they'll ever get better.
Instead, she hugged me. Offered her thanks.
Then left.
My chest is tight, but there's no injury I can identify. Even with the fall into the river and the hike up here, physically, I'm fine. Hungry and dirty, yes, but otherwise, there's nothing wrong that I can identify.
Rather than try to narrow down the cause of what I'm feeling, I turn my attention to practical matters. Food. Water. Hunting cabins are always stocked for anyone who needs to shelter in one. It's easy to busy myself with tasks like finding the makings of a simple meal for me and Dara to share.
When she appears again, her face is clean, her hairline is damp, and she is utterly beautiful.
Deep brown hair, loose strands curling to brush over her shoulders.
She's wearing my clothes still, and a possessive thrill shoots through me to see that.
My brain knows that it was for necessity only, but the primal part of me doesn't care.
It's like I've claimed her in the most basic way.
The idea of claiming her, though, makes me think of other things, and I force myself to stop.
Imagining anything more is just bound to lead to hurt.
She's seen my scars now. At least the worst of them.
And there's no way a woman like her needs to be saddled with a man who struggles at even the simplest things. Talking to people. Being in public.
"Everything okay?" Her voice makes the rambling thoughts in my head go quiet. She steps up beside me and examines the plate I've scavenged to make. "Aiden, did you make us dinner?"
Her teasing question makes me almost want to smile. I shrug instead. "It's not much. Just some jerky and dried fruit. Protein and sugar. Both will make us feel better. And the water in the glasses is from the spring out back. Hydrating is important."
"Practically a feast." She takes the plate and carries it over to the small two-seat couch and drops down onto it. When I stay by the sink, she pats the cushion beside her. "If you'll bring the water over, we can pretend this is a picnic."
The idea of being so close to her makes my skin feel too tight. It's easy to remember what she felt like when I held her after we made it out of the river. Dara had clung to me in her sleep, and for the first time in years, I'd felt necessary. Needed by someone.
It felt good.
It also reminded me that I can't go back to being that person. I'd failed before and others had suffered because of it.
That's what the scars remind me of every time it hurts to talk, and phantom pain wakes me from a fitful sleep.
"These are standard rations. Stocked in the hunting cabins for people that need shelter."
Dara pops a dried cherry into her mouth, pursing her lips at the tart flavor. "Right now, it tastes like the best meal I've ever had. And this water is delicious."
Pride flares in my chest, a sensation I've missed. "After what you went through, anything would taste good."
She turns and leans back against the armrest, drawing her legs up and balancing the plate on her knees. Her toes rest against the edge of my thigh. It's a comfortable, friendly posture, but the look on her face is pensive.
"I owe you an apology."
I stare at her, my hand halfway to my mouth. Stunned. "What are you talking about?"
"You risked your life to come find me. To get me out of there.
If I hadn't gone for a walk this morning, you wouldn't have needed to do that.
You'd have been safe in your own home or cabin or wherever it is a mountain man like you lives.
And I'm grateful you were willing to do that.
But I also want to apologize that you had to do it at all. "
"It's not your fault." My voice is gruff, ragged, and I can feel the irritation of my throat getting worse. "The resort should've sent a guide out with you."
Now she looks sad. "They offered. Someone named Silas.
But I didn't want to bother him. I like to walk and think when I'm looking for good places to shoot.
It's easier when I'm on my own because I don't feel the need to make conversation or worry that I'm boring the person with me.
It never occurred to me that there might be a fire.
Or bears. Or jumping off cliffs into rivers. "
Her toes push against me and when I look back at her face, she offers me a small smile. "You're a good man, Aiden. I hope you recognize that."
I want to believe what she's saying. I really do. But there's too much in my past for her to say something like that.
My chest gives a twinge, an ache that spreads through me, and I force myself to stand. I feel bereft, instantly, and rub at the spot over my sternum like I can push away the discomfort. Because the discomfort is simply from the fact that her body is no longer in contact with mine.
Even if it was just her toes against my thigh, it was still a physical connection.
She's watching me, eyes full of concern, and I have to put space between us.
"Gonna go out and check on the fire."
I leave her behind, striding to the door and pulling it firmly shut behind me.
But being out here alone doesn't ease the pain the way I hoped it would.
And I'm afraid it never will again.