Page 76 of From Square One

It’s been a couple of weeks since I’ve slept in his arms. I forgot how comfortable they are. How safe they make me feel.

I nuzzle into his neck, arms tucked up and limp between us, letting him stroke my back. His lips are nestled into the top of my head, and he’s broken into a barely noticeable quiver. I think I understand why. He’s wondering if this is the last time he’ll get to hold me.

I’m starting to feel. The first emotion that comes back is guilt.

“Sorry,” I say, my eyes moistening. I scrunch them shut. “I’m not trying to be difficult…or do this on purpose to make everyone feel bad…”

Aaron’s arms close tighter around me, pressing me flush with his body. “I know,” he says. “You don’t like to hurt other people, so you take your problems out on yourself. Maybe that’s something we can figure out together, if…”

He fizzles off, but I know the end of his sentence. If you can forgive me.

More guilt needles through me. “Okay,” I say. “I’ll forgive you.”

I expect Aaron to react with a gasp and beaming grin. That he’ll kiss me fiercely and thank me for giving him another chance. I’m not sure where my decision comes from—I don’t even remember thinking the words.

“No,” he says.

That startles me. I draw my head back to give him a puzzled look, and he smiles, his fingertips rising to nudge my hair off my forehead.

“Don’t forgive me yet,” he continues, his eyes sparkling with fondness. “Not when you’re so numb. Give yourself time to think. Let your emotions come back, however long it takes. Be angry. Sad. Frustrated. It’s not fair, what Logan and I have put you through.” His thumb combs an arch along my brow. “So just feel, sunshine.”

I purse my lips, a twinge of annoyance in my chest. “What if I change my mind and decide I want nothing to do with you?”

“That’s fine. So long as you make your decision when you’re thinking straight.” Aaron draws my face forward and kisses the bridge of my nose. “Just let me know what you need. I’ll meal prep, then bring you food so you don’t have to make lunch every day. I’ll come over and hold you at night to keep you warm, and promise not to say a word. I’ll help you get dressed or wash your hair or get food to your mouth if it’s too much. I’ll be here. So call me—”

“—every time. I’ll find a way to you. Always,” I say lightly.

Aaron looks thoroughly befuddled. The sight awakens something tingly and warm within me, and I feel my mouth rise at the corners.

“You’ve said it before. Becoming predictable,” I say, poking my index finger scoldingly into his chest.

“Predictable?” Aaron scoffs. “I’m the most spontaneous person you know.”

“Yet I clocked what you were going to say immediately.” I shrug. “You’re losing your touch.”

Aaron’s smile turns into a sharp and pointy grin, and I think in any other circumstance, I’d be in trouble for saying something so bold. “Maybe,” he says. “Any other insults you want to hurl while I’m at your mercy?”

I consider it. The longer I lay pressed into his chest, his arms folded protectively around me, the more I start to feel. The guilt is waning in place of other things. Comfort. Relief. Amusement. Nothing negative—at least, not yet.

“Would it kill you to add color to your closet?” I ask, clicking my tongue. “I get that you think you look sexy and mysterious in black. But have you ever considered a nice periwinkle? Or chartreuse? Or literally anything else?”

Aaron whistles long and low. “Brutal,” he says. “Thank you for teaching me that other colors exist. I’ll add a nice periwinkle to my list.” He waits a couple of moments, then smirks, and asks, “Is that the worst insult you could come up with?”

“I could find something more offensive,” I say, huffing.

“Prove it.”

My brain works furiously through the haze to conjure something more biting. This might be the only time I can say these things without retaliation—surely there’s something else. I confidently say, “Your massages could use some work.”

Aaron chokes on his breath. “What?”

“You’re too gentle,” I say sternly. “Be rougher with me. Like really dig your thumbs in. If you’re going to do it, do it right.”

Aaron chokes again, but it’s on laughter this time. “I’m sorry. I’ll be more merciless with you moving forward,” he says seriously.

“You’re being bratty,” I accuse, and his eyes twinkle with mischief.

“That’s because I’m a brat. You know this.”