“I like him.” I whisper the understatement of the century.
Denton’s hand moves closer to mine and he bends his head to see my face. “I’ll give you some unsolicited advice because I wish someone had given it to me. I think he made you an incredible offer. If you weren’t so taken with him, I’d say jump on it. But if you feel strongly about him and you don’t think he can reciprocate, I implore you to think it over carefully. I don’t want you to jump into this because you feel you have no other options. With your visa, kid, they’ll line up to hire you, and you’ll get your own lab someday. Just think it over.” He pats my shoulder.
A surge of gratitude for this man overwhelms me. It’s exactly the kind of advice I needed, the kind of faith only someone in his position can give. Before I realize what I’m doing, I give him a hug.
“Thank you, Arthur.”
He chuckles. “Here is a scientific observation for you, Isa. When it comes to feelings, the male of the species is an idiot. But the good news is, he eventually comes around.” He winks. I twist the paperclip, laughing. Even his love advice is scientific.
Aiden strides into the room minutes later. He must be the most efficient contract drafter ever. Of course, his supermemory must help. And hurt.
He turns to me. “Ready?”
I nod, the magnitude of the moment settling in. He hands me his pen from the inside pocket of his jacket. The pen is warm from his heartbeat. The new lifeblood pounds in my chest as I recognize it. It’s the one he used to sign my new books. I look up at him, startled.
Aiden smiles. “Sign away.”
I wonder if my hand would have shaken with any other pen. But with this one, it does not. He signs his assertive, no-frills autograph next to mine. Denton takes a picture, laughs and claps. When Aiden extends his hand, I take it, knowing he will hold mine. And knowing it will rip me apart tonight.
“Congratulations!” he says. “Time for a celebration lunch?”
Oh no! Alone time. I don’t need Reagan’s pearls of wisdom to know this idea would be like sniffing vapors off the fume hood. Addictive and deadly. “I can’t, Mr. Hale. But thank you for all your help. I’ll never forget it.” I put as much feeling as I can in my voice and squeeze his hand.
His grip tightens once—almost painfully—then he lets me go.
*
Denton drops me off at home. The whole way, he analyzed the pros and cons of Aiden’s business offer. I heard only half of it. Calico runs to me on the steps, and I do a poor job scratching his head. He abandons me, looking offended.
When I get inside, I see a big banner hanging over the living room door. FEELING LIKE A MILLION BUCKS. It has dollar signs, American flags, hearts and smiley faces painted all over it. Reagan! I call out for her but a Post-it on the TV informs me that she is at her job training.
I march straight to our bookcase for my clinical psychology textbook. I flip through the pages until I find the section I want. As I read, I jot down the key words on a piece of paper.
Marine
Five years—from 1998 to 2003
Combat. Likely Afghanistan and Iraq
Isolation
Hypervigilance
Control
Nightmares
Hair-trigger temper
Rage
Violence
Guilt (“I shouldn’t”)
Lights flickering (To alert him to someone’s presence?)
High-alert at certain triggers—thunder, traffic, honking, camera flashes, new places
Thousand-yard stare (Flashbacks? Memories?)
Physical distance; last through doors; back never exposed; never anyone behind him; won’t go in a crowd (Why?)
Predisposition: eidetic memory
It all fits. Textbook case. Aiden Hale has posttraumatic stress disorder. Severe, by the looks of it. Whatever terror he lived through during combat has never left him.
What got him started down the military path? I don’t know. Whatever it was, he came out of it alive and scarred. But the discipline he learned, combined with his natural intelligence, allowed him to rise to the very top.
At what cost? Loneliness. Self-imposed isolation. Maybe that is why he cannot allow himself to get involved with me.
I hear three distinct slow knocks on the door. They lack Reagan’s femininity or Javier’s friendliness. I peep through the hole. The new lifeblood burns my veins. I open the door.
Aiden leans with his arm on the doorframe. He is looking down at my feet. Then his eyes travel over me, one inch at a time until they meet mine. They are blue fire.
“You have every reason to shut this door in my face. But will you be the miracle I think you are and let me in?”
Chapter Thirty-One
The Truth
I step back against the foyer wall and nod for Aiden to enter. He walks inside and stops in front of me. His face is ashen, the only light burning is in his eyes.
“Thank you,” he says.