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Emma heads back into the bedroom to change and a moment later is dashing out the front door.
I turn my attention back to Aiden, who looks very disheveled and obviously exhausted.
He paces the little living room like a caged lion.
“You’re sleeping on her couch,” he grinds out through clenched teeth.
“I needed a place to stay,” I say, not looking him in the eyes.
“And you couldn’t take a minute to see that you have a place in my guest room? With a bed.”
“No.” I shake my head. “I needed to leave.”
“You needed to run away, is what you needed.”
I lift my brow. “You would know.”
His jaw locks. “Oh, so we’re back there? I thought we moved past this?”
“We did, but I just needed…”
“Enough,” he practically growls. “I don’t want to hear another excuse.” He levels me with a stare that has my legs quaking underneath me. I hurt him, and my heart squeezes in my chest painfully. “You broke up with me via a Post-it.”
I slam my lips together. “It was a letter.”
“Semantics.”
Aiden runs his fingers through his hair, pulling at the roots. “Just tell me why. Why now? All the shit you’re holding inside, you could’ve told me. Why end it that way? Why not be honest with me?”
I let out a long-drawn-out sigh. “The journalist approached me. Your mom ran right to him after you left her place. He knew there was a story—and warned me.”
Aiden’s features harden, and I’m afraid that if that man showed up right now, there’d be another death on our hands. I don’t want that. Don’t need Aiden fighting my battles.
“I realized right then and there that if you stayed with me, my past…my secrets, they could hurt you. I was trying to save you.”
“Again, with you putting yourself last.” He throws his hands up into the air, frustration oozing from him. “How many times do I have to tell you I don’t need you to save me? I should be the one saving you.”
I incline my head, as if to say I’ll always save you. Love is protecting. Love is putting someone else first. He closes his eyes at the gesture, obviously understanding the meaning of what I’m implying.
“I read your letter,” he says.
“So you know why I left.”
“I know why you think you left but—”
“You don’t know anything.” My fingers grip the hem of my shirt, twisting the material.
“So then tell me what happened, Cass. Enough secrets. If you’re going to end things, don’t you owe me that much? I want to hear the real reason you think you need to protect me.”
I close my eyes. He’s right. I do. I need to trust him. With my lids slammed shut, I finally talk.
“I still remember the day as if it was yesterday. I remember walking along the path, heading to your tree.” I take a deep breath, thinking about that spot. Focusing on the good of that place before diving into the nightmare it became. “I used to go there every day after you left. I’m not sure what I was hoping for. I knew you were gone, and by that point, I knew you weren’t coming back. Almost two years had passed by.”
“I’m sorry—”
I shake my head. “Don’t. Not now. Let me get this out, or I’ll never be able to,” I respond, opening my eyes but still not looking at him.
If I see him, I might not be able to say these words. Instead, I stand and start to pace, walking around the room, concentrating on the floor.
