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Aiden ~ Melanie Moreland Page 8
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I’d had a bad reaction to her words. They had hit home, reminding me of a painful time in my life. And instead of brushing it off, I had dwelled. I had shut her out and wallowed the past few days. I had to admit, a huge part of me hoped she would be here with Emmy, but another part of me knew she wouldn’t show up tonight.
“Aiden?”
I pushed my thoughts away. “Sorry, what did you ask?”
“If you were coming for tacos.”
“No, I had my fill last week, and I ate before you came tonight. The rest of you go without me.” I didn’t want to go and cause Cami to miss time with Emmy.
“It’s only us three. Maddox is at some accounting thing, Dee is away for a few days, and Cami just isn’t up to going,” Emmy stated. “She’s at home, resting.”
All my protective instincts kicked in. “Resting? Is she ill?”
She glanced at Bentley, then at me. “You didn’t know?”
“Know what? What happened?” I demanded to know.
“Cami was jostled going down the stairs at school yesterday and she fell. She hit her knee and landed on her shoulder. She was pretty shaken up, and she told me she aches all over. That’s why she wasn’t here tonight. I thought she must have told you since you didn’t ask.”
“I-I assumed she had another commitment,” I sputtered.
Cami was hurt.
“Did she see a doctor?”
“They saw her at the clinic. The X-rays showed nothing was broken. They gave her a prescription for some painkillers and told her to use ice.”
“They suggested therapy to help, didn’t they? Some massage for the aching muscles?”
“She doesn’t have coverage. She was going to look something up on the internet.” She grabbed my forearm. “Maybe you could send her some stuff, Aiden. Some exercises to help her? You know about that sort of thing, right?”
“For sure.”
I met Bentley’s eyes. He tilted his chin down in understanding.
“Okay, Emmy. Let’s go. I’m starved.”
They took their stuff and left, waving goodbyes. I hurried to my bathroom, grabbed some things I’d need, then went into the kitchen to get my icepacks. I picked up the phone and called my favorite Chinese place and ordered some hot and sour soup. It was Cami’s favorite.
Then I ran to the car without a second thought.
She was hurt. She needed me.
Cami was shocked when she opened her door. I could see the pain etched in the pinched look on her face.
“Aiden?”
“May I come in?”
“Why?” she asked, the one word saturated in a quiet sadness.
“I came to help.”
“How did you know?”
“Emmy.”
She hesitated, and I waited, expecting a shake of her head and for the door to shut in my face. I was pleased when she stepped back, opening the door wider.
Inside, I unloaded my bags in the kitchen and took her the container of soup. “I want you to eat, then I’ll look at your shoulder.”
“I don’t understand why you . . . why you’re here.”
I opened the soup and handed it to her with a spoon. I sat across from her with a container for myself. “I took physical therapy as well as business at university. I also have my massage therapy license. I constantly take courses to keep up with changes in treatments. I can help with your pain.”
She looked down into her soup. “Oh.”
“Cami, look at me.”
She glanced up, her gaze conflicted.
“Please let me do this for you.”
“Okay.” She spoke in a soft voice, dipping her spoon into her soup, wincing as she lifted it to her mouth. I had to stop myself from reaching out and feeding her myself.
“What happened? How did you fall?”
“It was the rush between classes. The stairway was full as usual, and someone knocked the girl behind me. She fell into me but caught herself on the railing. My arms were full, and I went down. It was only a few steps, but I landed on my right shoulder. I was lucky and glad I didn’t hurt anyone else.”
I didn’t care about anyone else, but I didn’t tell her. “Emmy says your knee and shoulder hurt?”
“Yes.”
“Are you taking the painkillers?”
She shook her head. “They make me sleepy.”
“That’s part of their job. You need to rest and heal.”
She didn’t respond.
“Are you in pain?”
She hesitated. “I . . .”
“Sunshine?” I prompted. “Are you in pain?”
“Please don’t call me that,” she whispered. “I think it means more than it does, and”—she lifted her tear-filled eyes to mine—“it hurts, Aiden.”
“I don’t mean to hurt you.” I dragged a hand through my hair. “I’m sorry. The other night caught me off guard, and I overreacted.”
“What did I do?”
“Nothing, Cami. You did nothing. It’s me. I told you I don’t do relationships. I’m not built that way.”
“I think, if you gave yourself a chance, you could. If you talked to me, let me help you . . .”
Her voice trailed off as I shook my head.
“I like you, Cami. I like spending time with you. I like being with you. I think you’re amazing. But the rest . . . it’s not going to happen,” I told her, keeping my tone gentle. “I’m being as honest as I can be with you.”
She stirred her soup. “So friends with benefits is what you’re saying?”
“We can be friends without the benefits part, if that makes it easier on you,” I offered, hating myself, knowing how much more she wanted. How much more she deserved. “I like hanging with you. You really are a ray of sunshine in my life.”
“I like hanging with you too.”
“Eat your soup. Let me look after you tonight. We can talk about it later.”
She sighed and picked up her spoon. “Okay.”
After we ate, I made sure she took some painkillers. Then she lay on the sofa and let me look at her knee. It was bruised and swollen, and I worked on it for a while, stimulating the blood flow and trying to ease the muscle stiffness. After, I rubbed some anti-inflammatory cream into the skin and wrapped it in an ice bag.
“I want that elevated as much as possible and iced every hour tomorrow for twenty minutes at a time.”
I eased her onto a pile of cushions on the floor and sat her between my legs. “Let me see your shoulder.”
She tugged her shirt over her head, the movements slow and jerky. The skin was mottled with bruises on the top of her arm, and as I ran my fingers over her skin, I could feel the pull and tightness of her muscles. She shivered at my touch.
“Are you cold?”
“No.”
“Try to relax. I won’t hurt you. I promise.”
I tried not to dwell on the fact that I hurt her constantly in another manner.
She sighed, and her shoulders dropped. I spread some coconut oil on her skin and began to knead her neck. After a few minutes, she began to relax, leaning back into the sofa. I was careful as I worked the trapezius muscles, easing the tension created by the fall. I moved up her neck, my fingers sliding on the slick skin, pushing my thumb into the tight spots at the base. She moaned low, but it wasn’t a sound of pain. I felt her tension begin to drain away and her arms relaxed, her hands resting on my feet.
I stopped for a moment and grabbed my phone, hitting a soothing playlist. The quiet notes filled the air, helping her to loosen up even more. I didn’t talk; instead, I listened to her breathing. I knew when I found a more tender area by the hitch I could hear on occasion as my hands moved across her back. She would sigh when it felt good, and I made sure to linger longer on those areas.
“So nice,” she whispered. “It feels so nice.”
“Is the pain going away?”
“Yes.”
“Okay, we’ll keep going.”
“I like the music. It remin
ds me of when I was little.”
I added some more oil to my hands. “Oh?”
“Dee would sing me to sleep some nights. She has a beautiful voice.” Cami sighed as I found another sore area, silent until the pain was gone and my touch only conveyed pleasure. “She still does sometimes if I’ve had a bad day.”
“You two are very close.”
“It was only her and me, to be honest. Like I told you before, my mom was there in body, but she checked out emotionally after my dad left us. She never got over him walking out. I was nine when it happened. A year later, she got sick with cancer and died.” Her voice was so low I had to strain to hear it. “She refused treatment. She had no will to live—not even for Dee and me. She deteriorated fast, and then there was just us.”
“And your father?”
“Still didn’t want either of us. Dee was my family.”
Gently, I tilted up her head, sliding my hands to the base of her throat. A tear caught the light as it slid down her cheek. I spread my fingers wide over her clavicle, easing away the tension there.
“I’m sorry, Cami.”
She reached up, patting my hand. “It’s okay. Dee has been there for me all my life. She’s my rock.”
I cradled her head, tilting it to one side then the other, soothing and lessening the pain. Then I began again on her shoulders.
I knew when she fell asleep. Her body slackened, leaning into my leg, her hands lax on my feet. Her breathing was slow and quiet. I kept massaging her neck until I was sure she was in a deep sleep. Using caution, I widened my knees, stood, and maneuvered until I could turn around in front of her to look down at her sleeping form.
Her head rested against the sofa. I could see the bruising on her arm, and I crouched to add some anti-inflammatory cream to help with the swelling around the area. I was careful not to wake her or press too hard. Her torso was bare, her shirt a pile on her lap. Her perfect breasts were on display, yet I felt no lust—nothing but an intense sense, a need, to care for her. Gently, I scooped her up, carried her to her room, and placed her on the bed, drawing her covers up to keep her warm.
As I studied her, I noticed there were no colors in her hair. The rich, glossy chestnut color gleamed in the dim light. She must not have been able to add her streaks in with her sore shoulder, and I found, as pretty as her hair was without them, I missed the bright bursts of color.
Her eyes fluttered open, and I stroked her forehead. “Go back to sleep.”
“Thank you,” she breathed out, her eyes drifting closed.
“I’ll be right here.”
“M’kay.”
“I won’t be in tomorrow. Can you manage?”
Bentley paused, his breathing on the line all I could hear. I heard a door shut, and he spoke. “What are you doing, Aiden?”
“She’s hurt and alone, Bent. I can’t just leave her. Her knee and shoulder need ice every hour. She can’t do it.”
“Emmy would come spend the day with her.”
“It’s fine. I have it covered. I checked the schedule. Tomorrow is all day in-house, no meetings, nothing. I’m as close as the phone.”
“Why are you so insistent on being there for her? You rush over there when you hear she’s hurt, yet you refuse to let her into your life. What’s going on with you?”
I had no idea what to tell him.
“Talk to me, Aiden.”
I sighed heavily into the phone. “I can’t, Bent. I can’t explain any of it to you. I just need to be here for her tomorrow. I need you to understand that and give me a break right now.”
“Are you leading her on?”
“No. I’ve been honest with her. I just . . .”
He let the silence linger, then asked, “Just what?”
“I don’t know,” I admitted. “She ties me up in knots. She makes me want things I can’t have. To be something I can never be.” I eased back onto the cushions and scrubbed my hand across my beard. “But I can’t seem to stay away from her, no matter how hard I try.”
“Maybe you should stop trying. Why don’t you give yourself a break, Aiden? You want this girl? Go for it. Put yourself out there. Forget the shit you think you know, and reach out. I guarantee she will meet you halfway. More, knowing Cami. She’ll slam right into you and engulf you.”
I shut my eyes, wishing it were that easy. Wishing I were brave enough.
“I won’t be in tomorrow, okay?” I repeated.
He sighed. “Yes, that’s fine.”
“Call me if you need anything.”
“Aiden—”
I cut him off. “Night, Bent. Thanks.”
I hung up, his words on repeat in my head.
“Engulf you.”
That was what I was afraid of.
I stayed on the sofa, getting up to check on Cami often. I woke her once to give her more pain pills, rub cream into her injured areas, and wrap ice around her arm and shoulder. She was groggy, incoherent, and cuter than she had ever been with her disjointed mutterings and squeaks of alarm as the ice hit her skin. But the swelling was going down, and I knew the pain pills helped her to sleep. I stayed until she was asleep again and headed back to the living room.
I didn’t sleep much, too worried about Cami needing something to get much rest. I was sipping coffee when she got up, stumbling into the kitchen, confused.
She had on a sweatshirt I recognized.
“Nice shirt.”
She looked down, and I swore she blushed. Cami never blushed.
“You loaned it to me that night we went for tacos and I got wet.”
I remembered. After we ate and ran back to the car, she was soaked. I’d given her the sweatshirt from my gym bag in the back and had forgotten all about it.
She tugged on the sleeves. “I’ll wash it and give it back.”
I waved my hand. “It’s fine. I have plenty of sweatshirts. Keep it.”
She poured herself a coffee, still moving stiffly, although not as much as the night prior. She sat beside me, taking a sip.
“Thank you for last night and for staying.”
“How are you feeling?”
“A little better.”
“Well, we’ll keep up with the massage and ice today, and by tomorrow, you’ll be much better.”
She set down her mug. “You’re-you’re planning to stay here today? What about work? I have to go to school.”
“No. We’re both staying here. The leg needs to be up, and you need to let the shoulder rest. I’m working from here. And by that, I mean sitting on your sofa beside you while we watch movies. You can grab notes from someone tomorrow. We’re both vegging today.”
“But Bentley . . .”
“He’ll call me if he needs something. Believe it or not, we can function without each other. All three of us are quite independent when we want to be.”
“You don’t have to do this for me, Aiden.”
“Yeah, I do.” I drew in a deep breath. “Even more than that, I want to.”
She gazed at me, the sunshine back in her eyes. “Yeah?”
“Yes.”
“Okay.”
After breakfast, she had a shower, and I rubbed cream into the sore areas, pleased to see the swelling going down.
“No streaks again, Cami?” I asked, looking at her damp hair. “They aren’t permanent?”
“No. My hair is too dark, and I would have to bleach it out. I use a colored wax product. I like to change it up.”
“I’ve noticed.” I chuckled. “I never know what to expect.”
“Do you, ah, like them?”
I had to stop myself from telling her I liked everything about her.
“Yes. They suit you.”
“My shoulder hurt too much the last couple of days to add them in.”
“It’ll get better.”
She smiled. “It already has.”
“Good. Now, pain pills for you, and we’re having a hooky day.”
“What does that entail?”
&
nbsp; “Movies, popcorn, and lots of naps.”
She sighed, sounding content. “Okay.”
Aiden
EVEN THOUGH SHE protested, I made her take more painkillers, and she slept. We watched a movie, and it seemed natural to sit on the sofa with her head on my knee. I massaged her neck and shoulder until she fell asleep, then indulged myself and ran my fingers through her long, thick hair. It was soft on my skin. I answered a few texts from Maddox and Bent, but I had no desire to move, or to find some task to do as I normally would if I were alone. Even when the movie ended, I didn’t move.
I was strangely content with her.
With Cami beside me, the silence didn’t seem as loud.
Instead, it felt comfortable. There was a sense of peace I’d never associated with quiet before. No voices in my head reminding me what a failure I was. No memories tearing at the edges of my mind, making me anxious.
I stared down at her sleeping form, silently thanking her for her unknown gift. Leaning back, I allowed my eyes to shut and my thoughts to drift, enjoying the unexpected moment.
A while later, Cami stirred. She sat up, grimacing.
“I fell asleep again.”
“It’s fine. You need to heal.”
“This must be boring for you, Aiden. All I do is fall asleep on you.”
“No,” I answered, running a hand over my head. “I’m finding it quite relaxing, to be honest. It’s a pleasant surprise.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Silence was all I had growing up, Cami. Everyone ignored me, for the most part. My bedroom was in the basement away from the rest of my family. I spent most of my time alone.” I laughed bitterly. “It’s not like today where kids are surrounded by distractions—streaming music, phones, tablets, a TV in their room, video games. I was just alone. Reading wasn’t a good option, although I did try. I didn’t have much for toys or entertainment. So there was just silence. I grew to hate it. Yet today, with you, I’m enjoying the peaceful time.”
“It was the opposite for me,” she whispered, shifting closer. “There was never any silence. Before my dad left, all they did was fight. I hated the screaming and yelling. My mom would throw things, and my dad would slam doors. My mom wasn’t very stable—mentally. She obsessed over things, especially my dad. When he walked out, she lost it.” Cami shut her eyes, shaking her head at the memories. “After he left, she began listening to music at all hours. Loud, angry music. She blared the TV and talked all the time. Yelled at us. Especially me.”