“Of course not.”
She frowned. “Why ‘of course not’?”
“Because…well, because I haven’t.”
“Why not?” she pushed. “Why was it easy for you to tell me you love me, but you can’t tell him how you feel about him?”
“Because when I said it to you, I knew you’d say it back. I knew you loved me back.”
Her heart cracked in two. Sliding closer, she pressed her lips to his in a soft kiss, then murmured, “Of course he loves you back.” She couldn’t help an impish grin. “He just needs a little time before he mans up and tells you.”
“Touché.”
They both laughed, but their good humor faded when Claire’s iPhone buzzed. She’d left it on the end table, and now she lunged for it, relief crashing into her when she saw Aidan’s number. She picked up immediately.
“Thank God!” she said instead of a greeting. “I’ve been so worried about you! Why haven’t you answered any of my messages?”
After a long pause, Aidan’s ravaged voice filled her ear. “Claire…I need you.”
Icy fear clogged her throat. “What’s wrong?”
Beside her, Dylan sat up in concern.
“I need you,” Aidan mumbled. “Can you come to Chicago?”
A terrible thought struck her. “Is your dad…did he…?”
“My father is fine.” His tone was flat, lacking all emotion. “Will you come?”
She glanced over at Dylan with a worried look, then tightened her grip on the phone and said, “I’ll be there as soon as humanly possible.”
Chapter Eighteen
It took Claire ten hours before she was finally standing in front of Aidan’s hotel room door. By that point, she was so tired and impatient and worried that she rapped her knuckles on the door in an unceasing series of knocks that didn’t stop until the door swung open and her hand met nothing but air.
“Hey.” Aidan appeared in the doorway wearing the same sweatpants and hoodie he’d donned three nights ago when he’d left San Diego.
“Hey,” she said softly.
She stepped inside and looked around, noted the room’s plain furnishings and drawn curtains, then walked into Aidan’s waiting embrace.
His arms held on so tight her lungs were burning by the time he released her. Wary, she watched as he headed for the queen-sized bed and flopped down as if his legs could no longer support his weight.
Sighing, Claire sat beside him and reached for his hand. “What happened? Is your dad all right?”
His skin was cold to the touch, his voice even colder. “He made it out of surgery and is resting comfortably.”
“That’s good to hear.” She hesitated. “You said he has an apartment downtown. Why are you staying in a hotel?”
“Because if I see a single goddamn item that belongs to him, I’ll be tempted to march back to the hospital and beat him senseless.”
Claire’s jaw fell open.
“The only reason I’m still in this city,” Aidan went on, “is because his girlfriend begged me to stay until the doctors tell us he’s completely out of the woods. Once I know he’s not going to die, I’m outta here.”
Claire ran her fingers over his knuckles. “Tell me what happened.”
“He lied to me.”
“What did he lie about?” she asked carefully.
His hand tensed beneath her palm. He stayed quiet.
“Aidan, what did he lie about?”
A ragged breath flew out of his mouth. “Do you remember when I told you how my mother died?”
She nodded.
“Well, turns out that was nothing but a fucking lie.”
Confusion washed over her. “What do you mean?”
“I mean my dad lied to me. My mother didn’t push me out of the way that day, she didn’t save me from a reckless driver and then get run down herself.” Aidan’s bitterness was like a thick layer of smog hanging over the room. “She walked right into traffic. She took my hand and led me into the path of a speeding car.”
Claire was struck speechless. It took her almost a minute to find her voice. “What?” she finally demanded.
“My mom didn’t push me out of the way, I jumped out of the way, or at least that’s what the witnesses on the scene told the cops. Apparently I was in shock afterwards. I blocked it all out, and the shrink told my dad not to push me into remembering, to let it come back to me gradually.” Aidan angrily shook his head. “But he pulled me out of therapy because eventually he didn’t want me to remember. He claims he wanted me to remember my mother as a hero.”
Unable to believe what she was hearing, Claire squeezed his hand tighter and searched his tormented eyes. “I don’t understand. Why would your mother do that?”
“Because she was schizophrenic.” He sounded devastated. “Before she was declared unfit to stand trial, she told the doctors that the voices told her to kill herself and her son. So she listened to the voices.”