Come to Me Quietly(25)

“Well, I’ve got to smell better than I feel. Pretty sure my head might explode.”



“And whose fault is that?” I challenged, eyeing him.

I thought maybe he’d lash out at me. Instead he sighed. “Mine, Aly. It’s always mine.”



His answer stung, and I immediately wished I could take the accusation back. I knew the root of the issues he bore, the blame he laid on himself, the constant burden he carried.

I fought the urge to hug him, pictured myself inching forward, whispering in his ear that I’d share it with him if he’d let me.

Biting my lip, I focused on cleaning one hand with the towel as best I could, avoiding looking at his face. But I could feel him staring at me, could feel the power of his eyes as they watched me. My heart beat a little faster.

“Almost done with this one,” I said, giving in and glancing at him. A soft smile touched just one side of his mouth. Quickly, I looked away. I poured some peroxide onto a cotton ball and gently ran it over his wounds.

He hissed. “Shit… that stings.”



I cringed. “Sorry.”



Placing a piece of square gauze over the knuckles of his hand, I lifted it to wrap medical tape around it to keep the bandage in place.

He sighed as I worked. “Aly, listen… ” His voice was quiet and took on an undertone of regret. The short flare of softness he’d watched me with last night again transformed his eyes. “I’m really sorry about the way I acted this morning.”



I knew his apology was genuine, and maybe I should have let him get away with it. But I didn’t want to. What he’d done hurt me. I twisted my jaw as I looked up at him, blindly dabbing at his other hand as I called him out on it. “Are you always an *?”



This time his quiet laughter was hard. “What did you expect me to be, Aly?”



“Different,” I said, fully pinning him with my eyes.

“But I’m not.” His voice was gentle, and I was sure I didn’t believe him. “I wasn’t lying to you this morning. You don’t need my shit and I can’t handle yours.”



I struggled to make sense of how he’d changed the words and the hint of desperation he’d injected in them.

“We were friends once,” I said, picking up his other hand to begin cleaning it. “At least I thought we were.”



His lids dropped closed for the longest moment. When he opened them, he reached out to gently trace his fingertips along the whitened scar barely visible along the outside of my forearm from when I’d fallen out of the tree. His fingers were rough. Perfect.

My lips parted as goose bumps rose on my skin. I shivered, and he pulled away. He pressed his lips together, his head cocked to the side as he sat back. “Yeah, I guess we were.”



“Are you not allowed to have one now?”



He laughed softly, an incredulous sound as he shook his head. It appeared as if he was shaking it at himself. “Aly, you’re killing me.”



I frowned. “I don’t get you, Jared. Did you think you could stay here and I’d just ignore you? I care about you.”



“Don’t say that,” he whispered, something like grief flashing in his eyes.

“But I do. I always have.”



He attempted to pull away, but I held tight. “Friends,” I emphasized. At the very least, he owed me that.