Chapter 18

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I followed our tutor through the long school corridors like a robot, unaware of the things and people around me. We stopped at the entrance to the school gym. She looked at me intently.

"I don't know what this is about, but Aiden doesn't look well. Should I call his father?"

The words rushed out of my mouth. "No, please, don't tell him anything. He'd worry, and Aiden wouldn't want that. I'm sure it's nothing."

I was lying shamelessly, but it was the only choice I had. I didn't have a clue about what happened, but I knew for sure seeing Aiden's father would make things worse.

"Okay, then. Let me know if there are any problems, or if you want Mr. Kennedy to come."

"I will." I wanted to dismiss Miss Johnson as soon as possible so that I could get to Aiden.

The bell rang. "I'll tell your teacher the two of you will be late, but only this time." Miss Johnson glanced at her watch, clearly in a hurry.

She left, and I rushed to open the door leading into the gym. At first, I thought it was a trick of sorts, and Aiden wasn't there. Then my eyes trailed to the far corner of the room, and there he was, sitting on the mat, head in his hands. I walked toward him, and he must've heard the noise as his head snapped up. I noticed his eyes were red.

"Hey." I gently rubbed his shoulder, kneeling in front of him.

"What are you doing here?" Aiden's voice sounded weary.

"You didn't come back, and your things were in the classroom. I was worried, and Miss Johnson said you were here."

"Shit! Is she—?"

"Going to call your father? No, I asked her not to."

"Thanks." He breathed out.

"I know you don't want to talk. I know you're not going to say anything, and you're not going to tell me what happened. But I'd like to stay with you." I looked at Aiden, afraid to say something that would make him retreat into himself and shut me out.

He didn't move and didn't say anything. It was when he rubbed his eyes that I saw blood on his knuckles.

"What is it?" I took his hand in mine. He nodded toward a punching bag hanging from the gym ceiling. It was still gently swaying back and forth, a silent witness to everything that went down here.

"Are you angry?" I placed his hand back on the mat.

"I am."

It was becoming increasingly hard to talk to Aiden as everything I got was one-worded answers. I sighed.

"I don't want to drag you into this," he said a couple of minutes later, breaking the silence. "You're the only good thing in my life, and I don't want to make you feel bad."

"I worry about you, Aiden. I can't just be in class and pretend to be okay when you are here like this. Seeing you hurting is a million times worse than knowing what happened to you."

My knees were sore from the hard floor. I stood up and sat next to Aiden on the mat. A text came in, making my phone vibrate. I took it, noticing it was from my mom.

Working until late today—a difficult case. Eat well; there's plenty of food in the fridge. xoxo

I smiled at the way Louise finished the text. Sometimes she'd use expressions that were more proper of a teen than a grownup. I loved this side of her, and her earlier words about not hurrying to become an adult popped up in my sleep-deprived brain. I checked the time. We were halfway through Literature.

"Aiden." I shoved my phone back in my purse. "My mom is working late today. Do you want to come home with me?"

I was a rebel for the first time, skipping half of the class, but whatever was going on with the boy I was probably dating was more important.

"Do you think it's a good idea?" Aiden finally looked at me.

"It is." I stood up, waiting for him to do the same.

When he was level with me, the heartbreaking sadness on his face only strengthened my resolve. We picked our things and left the gym and the school building.

"Are you okay to drive?" I asked, seeing Aiden fidget with the car key.

"I don't know. Let's take the bus instead."

The ride home was quiet. Aiden was looking out of the window, and I spent the time plotting how to make him open up to me.

The bus dropped us in my neighborhood. We walked along the street until my house came into view. I made my way to the porch and opened the door. The warmth and vanilla scent greeted me. I instantly felt better.

Aiden followed me in. I hung my coat and took Aiden's jacket to do the same.

"Is it yours?" He pointed at the seascape on the wall.

"Yes. It's quite old."

"Wow. It's beautiful." Aiden was studying the painting as if he was trying to memorize it. "It reminds me of a place we visited when I was a child. You're a genius, Ellie."

I smiled, happy with Aiden's approval. "I told you lots of my paintings are here. I wish I had more time and skill to paint more."

Aiden moved on to look at the next piece of art, another seascape. "Your skills are just fine; you could sell the paintings already if you wanted."

"Thanks."

"Don't thank me; it's true."

I noticed Aiden looked more comfortable and relaxed. The sadness was still there, but at least we were talking.

"Are you hungry?" I asked him partly because I was. With everything that happened, I hadn't eaten anything since breakfast. I needed food and a cup of strong coffee to stay awake.

"If you are."

"Then, we'll eat."

I led the way to the kitchen. When I opened the fridge, I realized Louise didn't lie; there was plenty of food. The shelves didn't have any free spot, being filled with delicious things to eat.

"What would you like?" I stepped aside, letting Aiden take a look.

"That lasagna looks good."

I picked up the tray and spotted a Post-It note telling it had to be heated up in the oven. It wasn't Louise's handwriting, meaning Thierry decided to stock our fridge again. I mentally thanked him.

While I busied myself with the oven, Aiden sat at the island, looking at his knuckles and frowning.

"We need to clean them. Wait here."

It took me a couple of minutes to find the first aid kit we kept in the bathroom. I came back to the kitchen and placed the alcohol and some band-aids on the island. "Give me your hand."

"I can do it." Aiden started to protest, but I was already pouring the alcohol on the piece of gauze. I gripped his hand and started to clean the wound gently. Aiden winced in pain but didn't pull away.

"You should've used gloves." I scolded him putting his hand down and taking the other one to repeat the same thing.

"I wasn't thinking, Ellie." He closed his eyes as the wet gauze touched the knuckle.

"Almost done." I finished cleaning and decided to use the bandage instead of band-aids.

When I was done wrapping it around Aiden's hands, he pulled me to him, hugging me. "Thank you."

"You're..." I was going to say welcome, but he squeezed me tightly, making it hard to breathe. Seconds later, the roughness of the bandage made contact with my cheeks. Aiden was looking at me, my face between his palms. His mouth closed over mine, and I got lost in the moment, wondering if for every person being kissed felt that good, or it was only us. I buried my fingers in Aiden's hair, gently pulling at it. Hot lips moved to my neck, trailing a path down, and suddenly, Aiden stopped, resting his forehead on my shoulder. The oven dang, and I attempted to move to get our lunch, but he didn't let me.

"I'm hungry," I complained, trying to break free of Aiden's grasp.

He reluctantly let go of my waist, sitting up straight.

I got two plates and silverware and handed them to Aiden. He arranged the things on the island and took the plates to the counter where I'd placed the tray with lasagna. I served the food, and we started eating.

"It's good," Aiden said, taking a bite. I looked at his bandaged hands as he started to cut his food. Fixing his eyes on me, he put the knife down.

"It doesn't hurt, Ellie."

He was lying, of course. I saw him wince, and I was sure it hurt a lot. Some instinct told me Aiden was used to diminishing the pain. I just didn't know how much.

We finished our lunch, hardly saying anything. Aiden took the dishes to the dishwasher, and I made us two cups of coffee. I was more anxious than sleepy now but refused to tempt my fate. I wanted to be awake in case we talked.

I sat on the sofa, staring into my mug.

"Hey." Aiden's fingers touched my cheek lightly, raising goosebumps on my skin.

"Don't you trust me?" I looked at him.

"Of course, I do." Aiden sat next to me. I turned to face him.

"You know everything about me or at least the most important things. You know I was adopted, you know I paint, you know my mom. You've been to my place, you've slept in my bed, you're the first guy I kissed." I regretted saying that as Aiden's pupils widened in surprise. "Yes, you are, and I'm sorry if that's not what you wanted to hear."

"Ellie..."

"Don't interrupt me. Today you disappeared, and I got sick with worry. I thought something happened. I found you with blood on your hands, and the only answer I get is that you don't want me to feel bad. Guess what; I already do, because you don't think I deserve to know the truth."

I turned away from Aiden and gripped the mug tighter, taking comfort from its heat. Silence filled the room, and I wondered if we'd spend the rest of the evening saying nothing.

"Okay," Aiden whispered.

"Okay, what?"

"I'll tell you everything you want to know. If being with you means I must do it, I'll do it. For the record, I've never trusted anyone the way I do you, Ellie, and it scares the hell out of me. Go ahead and ask. Whatever you want. I'll answer."

It looks like Ellie will finally get her answers.
What do you think she's going to ask?

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