Page 113 of Beneath the Quiet

The woman is too practical for her own good.

I straighten my back and pull out my phone from my pocket.

I sigh and swipe the screen to find her name in my contacts to phone her. A kernel of worry settles in my gut because this isn’t like her. I stare off into the distance, listening to the incessant ringing, not really seeing anything. When it goes to voicemail, I put it back into my pocket and walk around the side of the house, peering into her windows. If anyone could see me now, lurking and peering through her windows, they’d either come running to ask me questions or phone the Garda station.

Both would be bad for me, but even so, it’d be better than worrying about a woman I’m not supposed to feel so strongly about. Then again…Maeve and I are friends, and friends worry about each other, especially when one of them doesn’t answer their phone and isn’t where they’re supposed to be.

Finally, I reach a window all the way at the back of the cottage that’s slightly ajar, and I wiggle a finger through the opening to lift off the latch. Triumph mingles with determination as I open it, and I swing a leg over the side and slip inside. My eyes sweep up and down the dark-brown shelves that look a lot like my pantry, and I walk briskly to the door at the opposite end and open it.

“Maeve? Are you here?” I call out, then turn in a circle to take in the large kitchen. A kitchen that’s as quiet as a tomb, and I don’t like it.

“Who is it?”

I walk towards the hallway at the sound of her voice. I round the curve of the stairs and look up, stopping with my foot on the first step. I freeze at the sight of her.

“Aidan?” she croaks, then coughs into the side of her elbow. She blinks rapidly and runs a hand through her messy hair. “What are you doing here?”

I ignore her question and swallow the sudden dryness in my throat. She’s only wearing a long, pink T-shirt and fuzzy, light-purple knee socks.

Fuck. Me.

She reaches out her hand to the wall and sways on her feet, and that’s all it takes for my limbs to get unstuck. I run up the stairs and grab her waist the moment I reach her side.

“Mae?”

She blinks and frowns up at me.

“What are you…” She shakes her head. “I’m not…” She coughs and makes a feeble attempt to dash my hand off her forehead. “I’m not feeling so good.”

“I can see that.” I frown at her glassy eyes. “You’re burning up. Do you have a thermometer?”

She sighs and leans into me, nuzzling her nose into my chest. “No.”

I curl my hand underneath her mass of hair and pull it to the side to blow softly on her clammy skin on the nape of her neck the same way I did when Katie was little and had a fever. My stomach does a long-forgotten sweep when her arms wrap around my waist.

“Let’s get you into bed. Just lean on me.” I kiss the top of her head. “I’ll get you some water and stay with you.”

“No, you need to get home to Katie,” she groans. She stumbles into me when I turn her around, taking most of her weight as we shuffle down the hallway to her bedroom.

“I’ll phone her or my parents, let them know I’m with you. Don’t you worry about her.”

“But…”

“Shh, come now. Just a little more.”

She coughs into my shirt, and I frown at the nasty rattling in her chest. In one easy move, I bend and lift her underneath her knees and up into my arms.

“Oh!” She wraps her arms around my neck. “Aidan, please…”

“Hush,” I grunt, eating up the distance to her bedroom in quick strides. “This isn’t what it looks like.”

“What does it look like?”

“Like I’m carrying you to bed like Mr. Darcy would his Miss Bennett.”

“Hm. I’ve always thought of you more like the wolf in Little Red Riding Hood.”

I wince. “Ouch.”