I bit down on my lip, not sure what Aiden’s response to the comment would be. He turned his mouth into a half smile and glanced at me but didn’t say anything.
I held his hand and ran my thumb over his fingers. We didn’t talk very much—Aiden kept going in and out of sleep as he lay there. We just looked at each other. Words didn’t seem to be necessary.
“He was right, you know,” Aiden finally said. He looked down at our hands.
“Who was?” I asked.
“Redeye.”
“About what?”
He took a deep breath and tightened his hand around mine.
“Why I did it.” He licked his lips and met my eyes. “I love you, Chloe. I don’t know what I would do if I lost you.”
All my blood seemed to pool to my feet. I wasn’t expecting anything like this, certainly not given our situation. Despite the hours that had passed since we had been wrestling on the living room floor, it seemed like such a short time ago when we were together, laughing playfully and talking about our plans for the day.
Tragedy has a tendency to bring out strong emotions. It’s easy to confuse a bond over a terrible situation for something more. Is that what Aiden was doing now?
No.
It wasn’t.
I knew it wasn’t, because I loved him, too.
Mare had been right. Despite all the alarms in my head, I had been drawn to Aiden’s forthrightness, his willingness to pursue the unknown without fear, his desire to make me a better person, his bright smile, and the boyish twinkle in his eyes. My feelings for him had been growing every second I was with him.
It didn’t matter that he didn’t look like my usual type or that he drove a motorcycle and had giant muscles covered with tattoos. All of that superficial stuff was just that—superficial. It didn’t define him. The real Aiden was underneath it all.
I reached up and ran my fingers over his sweet face.
“I love you, too, Aiden. More than anything.”
And with that, our bond was complete.
TWENTY
The day after Aiden was transferred from the intensive care unit, a heavy-set man wearing shorts and a black concert T-shirt came into the hospital room and introduced himself as Justin Walters, one of the hospital’s counselors. Aiden glanced at me, but I just shrugged. I didn’t know anything about him.
“When injury accompanies tragic or violent circumstances, it’s standard for me to come in and have a little chat with you to see how you are doing,” Justin informed us. “I’m just here to see how Aiden’s coping with everything that’s happened.”
“I’m fine,” Aiden said bluntly.
“Aiden,” I said softly, “this might be a great opportunity.”
I didn’t want to push too hard, but he needed to talk to someone, and I wasn’t going to be intimidated by his glare.
“I don’t care about being shot,” he said. “I’d do it all again in a heartbeat.”
“You know that’s not what I mean.”
Justin started to say something but then stopped and watched us instead. Aiden looked between us, then sighed and pulled his cap off his head. He stared down at it and ran his fingers along the rim before glancing back at me.
“Could we talk about other stuff, too?” Aiden asked.
“Of course,” Justin said. “Whatever you would like.”
“Okay,” Aiden said with another sigh. “Let’s talk.”