Words Left Unsaid (Love Hurts 3)

“Heather, if this is about last night—”

“No, it’s not that,” she interrupts. “It’s about Aiden.”

I sigh again, wondering how long it will take her to work Max into the conversation. “Okay, I’ll come over now.”

I pull up outside Heather and Jim’s house. I have no idea what she wants to talk to me about. Since the accident, we’ve had a strong difference of opinion when it comes to Aiden. Living like this is not what he would have wanted, but short of dragging everything through court—which I refuse to do, for Tilly’s sake—unless Heather agrees to withhold life support, there’s nothing I can do for him. Could she have finally come to her senses? I shake my head. She’d never agree to let him go with dignity, no matter how bleak the outlook is.

I ring the doorbell and wait, shifting from one foot to the other. Heather opens the door and smiles. She steps forward and hugs me. Her sudden warmth leaves me taken aback.

“Come in, Kiara. Coffee or tea?” she asks, glancing back at me as I follow her through to the living room.

I shift on my feet, glancing around awkwardly, feeling out of place like I always do in their house. It’s spotless and classy without being over the top, but it’s so cold and empty. I can feel the tension every time I enter a room. Maybe it’s just me, but I don’t feel welcome here—even more so since the accident.

“A tea would be nice,” I say, wishing she would get to the point.

She nods and calls out to her housekeeper, Millie.

“So, what’s this about? You said you wanted to speak about Aiden?” I press, my anxiety growing. Of all the possibilities running through my mind, none of them are good.

“Yes, sit down.” She gestures.

I take the middle seat on the sofa as she sits in the armchair opposite me.

“I have great news. Aiden is coming home.”

My heart stops. Did I hear her right?

“Pardon?” I say, my hands clutching the cushion underneath me. My heart begins to pound faster as I try and figure out what this means. He’s awake? “What do you mean he’s coming home? Has he woken up? That’s impossible, the hospital would’ve called me—”

“His condition is the same, Kiara,” Heather cuts in, her expression sympathetic. “I’m sorry if I made you think otherwise. I’ve been liaising with an organization that supports families of coma patients, and the best chance he has of recovering is being at home. With his family.” She pauses, wetting her lips before looking me in the eyes. “We want you and Tilly to come and live with us.”

“What?” I laugh. The idea, to me, is ridiculous. “No, that’s not possible.”

“Think about it, Kiara.”

My anger boils, causing my body to shake. She speaks to me like I’m a child not grasping a simple concept.

“Aiden needs his family around him and Tilly needs her father. You keeping her from him is doing neither of them any good.”

The haze begins to lift as I realize what’s going on.

“This is your way of trying to force Tilly into seeing her father,” I say, the whole picture slowly forming in my head. “I can’t believe you would stoop this low, Heather. Aiden needs to be where he is. Bringing him here is not going to change anything.” I laugh and wave my hand around. “How do you expect to care for him here?”

“I have twenty-four-hour medical staff organized, equipment, permits . . .” she replies, her voice calm. “This isn’t some ‘wacky’ idea I’ve just come up with. This is something I’ve put a lot of thought and consideration into. I’m doing what’s best for my son.”

“If you wanted to do what was best for your son, you’d let him go,” I say quietly.

Her eyes narrow and I can tell I’ve hit a nerve.

“Enough!” she says, standing up, her cold eyes glaring at me. “How dare you suggest that keeping my son alive is something I’m doing for myself? The only reason you want me to stop his treatment is so you can move on with your new boyfrien

d,” she spits.

“I don’t have a boyfriend, Heather. All I’ve ever wanted is what Aiden would want,” I argue, getting to my feet, too. Tears well in my eyes and I fight to hold them back. “I can’t stand the thought of him trapped in that body, unable to communicate, wishing he were dead.”

“I think it’s best if you leave,” Heather says, her face white.

Millie walks in, carrying a tray of tea and cookies. She stops, noticing our argument, and quickly retreats from the room.