Chapter 18

NATHAN

Iagonized over what to do, even going as far as changing my mind at least a half-dozen times. It was so unlike me. Normally I didn't care about such things—about people. When I made my mind up about something, that was it. I didn't care enough to change my mind.

But when it came to Aiden, he mattered.

I waffled between the urge to run and find somewhere new to settle so that I could maintain my freedom and the desire to make sure he was alright. Of course, I didn't think it would be four days later, and I still wouldn't have heard from him—or, more likely, the police.

To be honest, I'd been pretty certain that within twenty-four hours, the SWAT team would have been breaking down my door, and a big man with a gun in my face would have been begging me to give him a reason to shoot. But none of that happened.

In fact, it was as though none of it happened. The radio silence from Aiden was the only clue to the reality of the events from that night.

Unable to take the silence, the unknowing, any longer, I decided to head to his place. I wasn't going to knock or let him know I was there, but I needed to make sure he was okay. That resolve lasted until I actually got to his house and parked my car.

The next thing I knew, I was knocking on his door like the idiot I was. But there was no answer. His car was in the driveway, so I knew he was home. I went to knock again, figuring I'd knock louder this time in case he didn't hear me at first.

But as I raised my hand, the door swung open, and my heart sank.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" Aiden spat out.

His body immediately recoiled when he saw me, grabbing onto the doorway to keep his balance. Though, from the looks of him, I wasn't sure it was due to the surprise of seeing me. He looked like shit, all pale and sweaty, with a blanket pulled around him.

I let out a sigh and grabbed his elbow to usher him back into the house. He tried to push me off, but he was barely able to keep himself standing, let alone fight me off.

"You're sick." My words were obvious, but he tried to argue anyway.

"I'm fine. You need to leave." Aiden batted away my hand that was trying to feel his clammy forehead.

I stopped and stared at him, frowning. Something wasn't right. Okay, a lot of things weren't right.

"You're still wearing the same clothes." My head tilted to the side as I assessed him, trying to piece together what happened in the last four days. "Shit, you haven't done anything to take care of yourself or the wound, have you?"

Aiden flinched, and I wasn't sure if it was because of the reminder of what I'd done to him or because I called him out about his lack of self-care. Either way, it didn't matter. If he wouldn't take care of himself, then I'd do it for him.

"Go sit on the couch. I'll get what I need to clean the wound. Then, after I wrap it up, you're taking a shower and putting on some clean clothes." My nose wrinkled at the smell wafting off him. There was a slight jiggle of guilt at my conscience, at the knowledge I had done this to him and then just left him.

"I'm fine, Nate. Go away." The way he tried to assert himself was cute. Or, it might have been if his body hadn't been wracked with chills so hard his teeth were practically gnashing together as he tried to talk.

I let out a sigh and led him to the couch. Despite his attempts at protesting, he moved with me and obediently sat. Ignoring the glare he shot me from under the blanket, I set out to get what I needed.

On the way over, I wrestled with what I should do or tell him. I wanted to be honest. More so than ever, after seeing what my lies had done to him—even though I knew if I had been honest at any point, we would not have gotten to where we were. And I couldn't find it in me to believe that was a bad thing.

It was selfish, but I liked that he had wanted me and loved me. And I had to believe a part of him still felt that way. How could I not when he hadn't turned me in?

When I got back to him, I sat on the floor at his feet and spread the stuff out next to me.

"I know you're cold, but we have to remove the blankets and your shirt so I can get you cleaned up."

Aiden jerked away, as though I'd slapped him. "F-f-fuck y-you," he bit out.

I let out another sigh and sat back on my heels. "We can do this the easy way or the hard way, little bird," I told him sternly as I caught his gaze. "As it is, you're going to be lucky if you don't need an antibiotic in order to get rid of the infection."

He winced at my words but I didn't have time to wonder what he'd been thinking about when I said that. The only thing that mattered was getting him better. He could hate me all he wanted when I was done and he was still alive. Because a wound like that being infected, had the possibility of being life threatening.

"I'm not leaving until I know you're going to be okay. So you might as well just let me do it, if you want me to go." I changed tactics. Not that I wanted him to kick me out. But I'd do or say anything to get him to listen to me.

Not giving him any other options, I reached up, ignored how he cowered from me, and moved the blankets to the side of the couch and then eased his tank top off. He was so weak, he had no choice but to be compliant in the way I moved him around.

I took a deep breath, steeling myself for whatever I was going to see, and quickly peeled off the tape that held the bandage I'd put on his side before I'd brought him home. When I saw the red puckered skin, I let out a sigh of relief. After I poked around a few times, and there was no sign of any discharge, I looked up at Aiden and offered him a smile.

"You're lucky. I don't think the infection is that bad. Cleaning it regularly, keeping it dry, and changing the bandages for the next couple of days should do the trick."

Aiden didn't say anything and barely flinched as I applied the disinfectant all around the area. It wasn't until I had the tape in my hand to secure the bandage that he spoke up.

"Why are you doing this?" His voice sounded small and defeated. "Why didn't you just kill me?"

I looked up, but he was looking away from me. I wasn't sure if it was because he didn't want to see the look on my face or because he didn't want me to see the look on his.

At first, I didn't say anything as I secured a waterproof bandage and tried to think of how to answer him. But it wasn't an easy question, and it didn't have a simple answer.

"How about you get that shower and get dressed? Then, when you're done, I'll tell you everything." I couldn't keep lying to him. More so, I didn't want to keep lying to him. When he didn't say anything, I took it as an agreement. "Can you manage to shower yourself, or do you need help."

"Yes," he spat out, but then he slumped back against the couch. "I don't know," he admitted with a sigh. "Maybe."

It sounded like it pained him to admit he needed help, but I was pretty sure it was just my help he didn't want. But I didn't want to make him uncomfortable, especially since we had a difficult talk ahead of us. So, I stood up, hooked an arm behind him, helped him off the couch, and walked him to the bathroom.

When we got there, I leaned him against the sink and went to get the shower ready. Then, I herded him over to stand next to it. I kept my eyes on him in case he started to lose his balance, as I quickly shed my clothes and pulled his pants down in as clinical a manner as I could manage.

"Time to get in," I told him softly. "I've got a hold of you, so go as slow as you need to." As promised, I kept my hand on his upper arm as he got under the warm spray. Once he settled in, I quickly followed behind him.

"Keep your hands on the wall while I wash you and get you cleaned up, little bird." He did as I said, but I could see his shoulders and arms shaking slightly as I squirted his shampoo into my hand.

"Don't call me that." His voice sounded wet and raspy, and I realized his shaking was from silent sobs wracking his body.

I didn't know what to do as I watched him, my hands going to his head and massaging his hair clean. His head fell back but I tried to not take the reaction personally, given how else he'd been reacting to me since I showed up unannounced.

Not wanting to make him suffer more than I already had, I quickly lathered up his soap and washed him, being mindful of the tender flesh on his side. Once I was done, I grabbed the shower head and rinsed him off. Getting him dry and dressed was a little harder as he started to sway more, having been on his feet for too long.

Instead of taking him back out to the couch, I tucked him into bed.

"You said you were going to tell me everything." His words were an accusation, thinking I was trying to get out of my promise.

I had no intention of doing so, but I needed to collect myself. So I walked out of his room without a word and went to grab us each a bottle of water. When I came back, I let out a sigh when I saw he'd moved and sat up. No doubt ready to try and get out of bed and hunt me down to make me talk.

"Settle down and stay put." I handed him the water, and my eyes traveled over his naked chest and torso. If he'd been anyone else, I would have admired my handiwork.

Without thinking, I reached out and traced the scars on the opposite side of his fresh wound. "You're the only one I've ever let go."

Aiden's eyes furrowed, his lips downturned into a tight frown as he put my actions and words together.

"It was you." It wasn't an accusation or a question, just an acceptance of fact. He sounded resigned. "You're the one who took me when I was sixteen."

"Yes," I admitted as I sank down to my knees in front of him.

His eyes filled with tears, but he turned his head, refusing to let me see them fall. "Why?"

That was a much more difficult question to answer. Then again, maybe it wasn't, given our recent history.

"I was drawn to you. It felt different than what it did with my victims, but I didn't know how to differentiate it. I didn't know what it meant, only that when I saw you for the first time, I knew you were supposed to be mine." I took a breath and tried to reign in my swirling thoughts. "I'd never felt like that before, but I didn't have the words. I didn't know what emotions to associate with the way you made me feel."

He nodded, still turned away from me. I wanted to take it all back. He'd been so understanding and accepting of me when we had that talk about who and what I was. And while I knew he wouldn't have been able to understand and accept it as a child, if I'd never crossed his path back then, then maybe things could have been different for us.

"I couldn't kill you. So I stitched you up and dropped you off at the park, knowing someone would find you and help you." I dropped my eyes to my lap as I struggled to find the right words. "I set my little bird free."

His shoulders tensed. "That's what you called me, back then. Your little bird. I didn't remember, but there'd been something about when you said it, that night in the hotel. I still didn't remember but it triggered, I don't know, something."

My hand itched to touch him, to try and comfort him. But I knew it would be unwanted, and that knowledge broke my heart.

"Where—Did you stalk me this whole time? Ever since you let me go?" Aiden turned to look at me. His eyes were still wet and shiny, but he hadn't let a single tear spill.

He was so brave, so good. I wished I could have protected him from all this—from me.

"No. You moved away, and I thought I'd never see you again." My voice cracked as I was overcome with emotion, remembering how I'd felt all those years ago, thinking I'd lost my little bird forever.

"What now?" Aiden asked, finally looking up and meeting my eyes. "Are you going to kill me now that I know the truth?"