Chapter 10
AIDEN
I follow her inside wondering what she caught on her camera that she thinks I should see.
She sits on the couch again, in the same place as before, and she's leaned back against the armrest once more.
"Is that how you always sit on a couch?" I ask, pointing to her drawn up knees and she shrugs.
"It's more comfortable like this."
I drop down beside her, and she leans toward me excitedly. "Here's the screen. I've got the first image set, but you can scroll through them with these buttons."
Her camera is heavier than I expected it would be. A serious piece of equipment. "You're lucky this didn't get damaged, you know."
"I paid extra for the protective bag. Waterproof, extra padding.
Didn't want to risk anything happening to it.
" She rearranges herself, tucking her feet underneath her body and leaning close until her head is almost on my shoulder.
"Like I told you. Push these buttons to move through the images. Then tell me what you think."
She's warm and soft, her body pressed against mine, but she doesn't seem to notice the contact between us.
She acts like it's completely natural that we're plastered against each other on this tiny piece of furniture.
I feel protective over her, but I'm also aware of other feelings running deep. Things I never expected to feel again.
My brain warns me I should put distance between us. But I don't want to. And how could I? We're stuck in this tiny shelter for the night and even walking away from her earlier left me feeling like something was missing.
"Aiden?" Dara taps my forearm, and I look down at her. "Are you going to look at them?"
I clear my throat and nod, not sure what I'll see.
The first few that slide by are of trees and a clearing that I recognize.
Hunt and I worked on it together, after a recent storm, moving the damaged branches and getting them delivered to Porter, a local lumberjack.
There was something different about him that day, I remember.
He seemed less lonely and maybe like he was looking forward to the future.
We're all veterans, Hunt, Porter and I, and we came home with different wounds that weren't fully healed.
It was good to see that Porter wasn't hurting as much as he had been before.
I should've asked him what had changed.
That's what I'm thinking about as I pause on a photo that shows a curl of smoke rising through the trees, clear against the blue of the sky. I'll have to make sure that Hunt sees this.
The frame moves on to the next picture and I stop. My head swims at the sight of my face captured on the screen. I want to push it away, drop the camera, and head back outside where there are no mirrors. No people. Trees and the night sky don't care what you look like.
"You took pictures of me?" I grit out the words, and they actually feel more painful than they ever have before.
Dara puts her hand on mine, encouraging me to continue scrolling through by pressing down on the button. “I did. You looked so perfect out there, just you and the trees. Like you're exactly where you're meant to be."
"I don't like pictures." I manage to voice my thought, but I leave out the whole truth. It's not really that I don't like pictures. It's that I hate them. Seeing the truth of my scars, of what everyone else sees? Nothing good comes from that.
"Do me a favor. Please?" She's looking up at me, an imploring look on her face, and she wraps her hand around my bicep. I nod, holding my breath as electricity runs through me from where her fingers press against my arm. "Close your eyes."
I do as she asks, not sure what she intends to do.
"When I took those pictures of you, here's what I saw. A brave man. A survivor. Someone who's gone through a lot of pain but doesn't give up. He runs toward danger. He's earned the respect of all the people who know him. He's strong. Very handsome. And so kind. He's a good man."
She pauses and the only thing I can hear is the ragged sound of my own breathing.
"Now, open your eyes and look at that picture again."
I don't expect there to be any difference, but when I see that image of me again, I feel different about it. The things she's said have changed how I look at the man shown on the screen. Like I'm able to see him through her eyes. And it's not a terrible thing.
It's not even that my scars are hidden, though. They're there, but they're not the main focus. Instead, my gaze is drawn to the person as a whole. The way I'm standing, the look on my face, the intensity that communicates what I was thinking about while I was out there.
Emotion cracks through the walls I've built up to protect myself and that ache in my chest is back again.
"Thank you, Dara." I try to smile and feel the way it pulls awkwardly on the left side of my face. "You're a great photographer."
"I'm just telling you what I saw. What people see when they look at you. It all comes through in the picture. Sometimes, you just need to hear it all, too."
I nod, and it seems like it's not enough. This gift she's given me. To see myself through someone else's eyes for a moment.
She smiles up at me and I can't stop myself from leaning down, brushing my lips softly over hers. Her eyes go wide and I pull back, mentally cursing myself for taking things too far.
"Did you just kiss me?" Her voice is soft, almost dreamy.
"Yes. I did." I take a breath, planning to apologize, but she surprises me once more.
"Good. Do it again."