Touched (The Untouched Trilogy #2)(3)

He’d changed me. He’d loved me. He’d hurt me. He’d damaged me. To be fair, I was already damaged though … long before he’d touched me but how can someone so damaged suffer more damage without being irrevocably altered?

I completed my workout, took a quick shower and looked at the list of food delivery options. I was surprised that my appetite was returning. The first few days after Aiden had left, my stomach churned at the mere thought of food. I reviewed the menu and called The Brewer’s Art to place an order.

I wondered aimlessly around the condo. Between the memories here and RPH, where he was practically everywhere, my head was pounding most parts of every day. I’d allowed myself to get caught up in Aiden’s web and I was an utter mess over a situation that typically wouldn’t have fazed me. It really wasn’t the situation in as much as it was him. Everything about him had encapsulated me; I’d been held prisoner to his whims, his voice, and his touch. Even now with the absence of contact, I was somehow still held captive. I wanted to escape but it was virtually impossible because he was now my boss.

The intercom buzzed and I grabbed my purse to pay the delivery guy. I was reminded of the one time I’d referred to Aiden as a delivery guy; it had been our first dinner together. I poured a glass of wine and sat at the table; I sighed as I realized that I was thinking of him again.

Was he thinking of me as much as I was thinking of him or maybe even a little? When he’d made his abrupt exit in July, I’d heard nothing from him the entire time he was gone; however, when he resurfaced he’d said that he’d missed me every day. He’d also told me that he loved me … yet he was gone. I didn’t fully know what it was like to feel love from a man but I knew enough to know that this couldn’t be right.

Had he expected me to say it in return? That I loved him? Did I have the slightest idea of what love was? I did … back then, when I was in Dayton living under the ruse of a happy family. I also knew how it felt to love my job or love my best friend and even to love my mom again …but loving a man. This man. I didn’t know. I had told myself that it was love. That he had touched a part of me that no one had ever come close to – a part that I didn’t know existed. But was that love? I had no idea. Mom had told me that I loved him. If anyone knew love, it was her. The depth of her love for my father was so intense it nearly killed her.

And for that reason, for years, I only wanted sex from men and I wanted it on my terms. Never had I desired anything remotely close to what I had begun to share with Aiden. I actually didn’t think it possible for me to feel this way for a man, yet here I was; in a haze of want and confusion … and hurt. Actually hurt was much too mild a description … I was burning. I was left with a gaping hole that threatened to exacerbate my already broken state. I had been broken before Aiden but I was nicely bandaged. All of the pieces were secure. That’s what worked for me and I had no desire for anything different. It was my way. Was my way healthy? No, but I was keenly aware of my dysfunction and I was fine with it, until now … until him. Every interaction with him had entailed an undecipherable and potent mist that flowed freely from him to me … piercing me … changing me.

I wanted to revert to my pre-Aiden state. I was happy, I loved my career and I was in control of my emotions. Actually everyday had been an exciting challenge. Yes, I was alone but there was a reason I was alone; I was comfortable that way. Most of that comfort had rested in knowing that the distressed pieces of Aria Cason were safely locked away … lying there … untouched. Now they were scattered about, taking life and penetrating the very essence of who I was … or who I thought I was. Aiden had somehow found the key to that forbidden box and now I was frantically scrambling to get it back.

After dinner, I watched a few episodes of The Big Bang Theory and called it a night. I tossed and turned, eventually falling asleep only to later awake from a dream in a cold sweat. I was drenched. I crawled out of bed and stripped out of the wet clothes and headed to the kitchen. I sipped on a bottle of water as I thought about the dream; it seemed so real.

Aiden and I were hiking in the woods and I’d somehow fallen behind. When he realized I was no longer trailing behind him, he retraced his steps. When I was in his line of vision, he began walking faster and after a few steps I started walking to meet him. With each step, his appearance changed. My steps slowed as I tried to understand what was happening. When he finally reached me he was no longer Aiden, he was the spitting image of my dad. He reached out to me and I screamed. That’s when I woke up.

I tossed on a t-shirt and hopped back into bed, my thoughts swaying back and forth from wanting him to hating him. Would I take him back if his reason for leaving was one I could accept? I didn’t answer my question, but I knew the answer was yes.

I’d placed so much distance between myself and the memories of my father. I was attempting to do the same thing with Aiden but my tactics proved futile; I couldn’t escape him … even as I slept. He was in my dreams, hovering and staring down at me. I hated him and I hated what he made me feel.

I thought back to the last few moments I’d spent alone with him. He’d left my office that afternoon; I’d stood there rubbing the lips he’d so savagely attacked. I watched him walk out of my office. It felt like my heart had stopped beating. My eyes watered as my body slowly slid down the wall onto the floor. I was broken, once again. I had felt as though I was watching the scene play out on a movie screen or having a nightmare and I was falling, falling, falling … wanting desperately to wake up before I hit the ground but it wasn’t a dream and I wasn’t going to wake up. I must have sat there wiping the seemingly endless flow of tears for nearly a half hour before I forced myself up. I walked over and took a seat at my desk rambling ineffective pep talks in useless attempts to assemble the newly shattered pieces of my being.