Page 84 of Fractured Fate

“It’s on my back. It’s not like it’s on my ass.”

She couldn’t stop the giggle his sassy comeback elicited.

He grinned. Reaching behind his head, he pulled his shirt off with both hands and turned to face the wall, putting his back to her.

“How long have you had this?” she asked, leaning in to study the intricate lines of the raven’s wings. Goose bumps prickled where her breath brushed his skin. “It’s beautiful.”

“Got it on my eighteenth birthday, so… it’s June now, right?”

“Mmhmm. The twenty-first.”

“So, almost two and a half years ago.”

Reaching out, she absentmindedly brushed her fingertips across the bird’s head, over the impressive wingspan, and into the chaos of fluttering loose feathers. Again, his skin responded to her by chasing her fingers with goose bumps.

“The ink’s held up well,” she said, lowering her hand, her fingers brushing over his shoulder blade, lingering a little longer before slipping away from his ribs where no ink existed.

She closed her eyes, steadying herself while he kept his back to her in silence. Leaning back into her corner of the loveseat again, she said, “Aiden?”

“Hmm?”

“You okay?”

He pulled the shirt back over his head and turned, drawing one leg up on the cushion to face her. “Yeah, I’m good.”

She looked up at him, taking in the way his damp hair fell disheveled over his forehead and into his eyes. He normally kept his hair pushed back, showing off the cropped sides, but with removing his shirt, it looked in disarray. She could now see how long he kept it.

He said nothing as she studied him, almost as if he was allowing her to do it. It made her feel better to think he was letting her look rather than the likely reality that she was ogling him like a creep.

A heavy knock on the door made them both jump, breaking eye contact.

“I’ll get it.” Aiden stood from the loveseat and crossed to the front door. Looking out the peephole he said, “What the… No one’s there.” Unlocking the door, he pulled it open, and she watched as his shoulders and back went taut with tension.

“What is it?” She lowered her legs to the floor, standing.

Picking up whatever was on the floor that held his attention, he turned. He clutched a fresh bouquet of pink roses in his hand. Saying nothing, he marched over to the trash can and dumped them inside.

“Wait! What are you doing?” She raced across the floor to the bin and retrieved the bouquet, looking at him like he had lost his mind. “Why did you throw them out?”

“Why are you keeping them?”

Her head tilted back. She hadn’t told him.

Tightening her hold on the bouquet, she said, “The last time I threw them out, I received a note on my door about it. It was the first time he contacted me in any way outside of the flower delivery. I didn’t want it to happen again.”

“Well, that ship has sailed now.” He leaned back against the kitchen counter, folding his arms over his chest.

“Still. I don’t want to bring extra attention than I already do.” She walked over to the counter. She had an old vase she could use since her other shattered during the break-in.

“Nothing happened Tuesday,” Aiden said, watching her with a tense set to his mouth.

He was angry she was keeping the roses, but what else could she do? Unless he proposed a better solution, she saw it as the appropriate response to avoid additional problems.

She bent to pull out the old vase and crossed to the sink to add water. “What are you talking about?”

“I tossed the ones that came Tuesday morning while you were in class, and nothing has happened.”

She spun on him; the water sloshing in the vase. “You did what?” Her voice was loud, indignant. How could he do that? The realization her stalker had sent a replacement bouquet soured her stomach.