A is for Aiden (Men of ALPHAbet Mountain) - Page 54

I dipped into the bedroom, gathering some clothes and making my way to the shower. I had been rather critical of Aiden’s neatness, but after the cabin was raided and no one noticed the pink shampoo and conditioner bottles in Ziplock bags in the closet, I was thankful for it. I got everything together and turned on the hot water, looking forward to being able to relax knowing that the cabin was as well protected as could possibly be.

After a long shower, I felt a little better and got out, putting on the pink bathrobe that matched the one I left behind at Aiden’s. He had ordered it for me, and it had come in the mail the day before. It was soft and warded off the chill as I slipped into thick socks and went into the bedroom.

Aiden was sitting on the bed, waiting. I wondered how long he had been there. He seemed lost in thought, and when he looked up, our eyes locked again, and I realized a talk was coming. I sat down next to him on the bed, drying my hair with a towel, waiting for him to speak first.

“My past is difficult for me to talk about,” he said finally.

I kept drying my hair as I thought. Nodding, I folded it into my lap.

“I understand that,” I said. “I just want you to tell me about yourself on a deeper level than what I know already. Most of what I know about you is superficial. I’ve told you so much about my life. Hell, my godfather is standing in the kitchen a few feet from us, cooking what by smell I recognize as my all-time favorite dish.

“I am a good listener. I won’t judge you about any of it. Trust me, I have no room to judge. It’s even part of my job not to judge people. And as part of my job, I know for a fact that talking about what bothers you from your past can only help to heal. It will make you feel better. You can trust me.”

He shrugged, sighing.

“I’ve done things I regret,” he said. “I made decisions, hard ones that ended up with people being killed. People I was responsible for. They died because of tactical decisions I made so I could save other people. People I never saw again. People who might have died a day later.”

“But they didn’t die when you saved them,” I said.

He nodded.

“I ordered men to protect them, and they died, though,” he said. “I’ve ordered men to go into rooms to die.”

“And that’s what they signed up for, isn’t it?” I asked. “The danger, I mean. They knew where it could lead. Just like my father. He knew what could happen, and he did it anyway. But he helped people too. Sometimes those two things, helping someone and hurting someone else, they cross.”

Nodding, he sighed again.

“The nightmares, they haunt me,” he said, staring down at his shoes. “I replay the moments over and over again. Sometimes I make different choices. Sometimes those choices work out. Most of the time, they don’t. No matter what, in my dreams, someone dies. Sometimes, it’s me.”

I reached over and pulled him into me. Slowly, we fell back onto the bed, and he rested his head on my chest. I stroked his hair as he lay there, holding me.

I was falling in love with him. I knew that much. That was why it was so important for me to know him. It was because I knew my heart was already his. But I was too scared to tell him that, at least yet.

My stomach gurgled, and I shifted uncomfortably. As much as the meal in the kitchen smelled amazing, I felt sick to my stomach. It was probably to be expected, though. No one came this close to death so often and didn’t feel something. It was anxiety forming physically in my stomach, and I just had to deal with it.

25

Aiden

We both seemed to feel a lot better after our talk. I hadn’t gone into too much detail, but I had given her enough to let her know that I wasn’t just being a jerk. But after our short talk and some time lying on the bed together, she had sat up suddenly, excusing herself to the restroom. When she didn’t come back a few minutes later, I went to the door to check on her and heard the unmistakable sounds of vomiting on the other side.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

“Yes and no,” she said, sounding exhausted. “I think all the anxiety is just getting to me. Probably too much coffee too.”

“Do you want me to bring you some water?”

“Yes, please. I might be a few more minutes, though.”

“Sure,” I said. “I’ll bring you some water and set it outside the door, okay?”

Tags: Natasha L. Black Romance
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