“I’ll go get you something hot to drink.” She smiles at me, then stares at Aiden. “Be nice.”

“I’m anything but nice, remember?” He gives her an undecipherable glance, and although I can’t quite read it, Elsa’s cheeks redden.

It’s fascinating how they can understand each other with a mere look.

That’s how Jonathan made me sit on his lap or lie on my stomach. Sometimes, he didn’t have to say a word, and even if he did, it was because I was acting out to hear his commanding tone.

I shut the door on that thought and him. Jonathan is the last thing I need on my mind right now.

He doesn’t want to touch me anymore. He thinks I’m insane.

Dickhead.

I try to erase him by focusing on the scene in front of me.

Elsa runs her fingers up Aiden’s chest and whispers something in his ear. His left eye twitches, but his expression remains the same as she disappears around the corner.

Aiden watches her back, then his attention snaps to me — dark and unreadable. Just like his damn father.

He sits opposite me, and I tighten my hold on the towel.

“Get on with it,” he speaks in his stone-cold tone. “The faster you do, the sooner you’ll be out of here.”

What a great host. But I don’t say that. “When you were younger, did you notice something wrong with Alicia?”

I’m almost sure he’s taken aback by the question, but his features quickly return to their normal coldness. “What is this about?”

“Margot said Alicia had episodes where she roamed the house during the night and made things up. She also scribbled over books and walls and —”

“Shut up.” Aiden’s jaw tightens.

“Tell me, please. I need to know.”

“Why? So you can pity her? Feel sorry for not being there? What is your angle exactly?”

“Because I might be becoming like her,” the words leave my mouth in a haunted whisper.

My fingers shake until the towel nearly falls. My teeth start to chatter, but it’s not due to the cold.

Aiden regards me for a second too long, not speaking. I’m not sure if he’s weighing the words he’ll say or just making sense of mine.

“What gave you that idea?”

“I think I’m having hallucinations. Things I swear happened aren’t real, and I’m starting to doubt the things that did happen.”

“That does sound like Alicia.” His voice is calm, low. He rests his elbow on the armrest and leans his head on his knuckles. “She had nights where she insisted she saw ghosts. She wrote about them and even sang them a lullaby. Levi and I thought it was fun, but Uncle James, and especially Jonathan, forbid us from seeing her when she was in that state.”

“Was it…bad?”

“Not when I was young, no. She used to read to me and circle words she thought were interesting. I think she got too bad too fast as I grew up.” His fist clenches. “And Jonathan did nothing to help her.”

I see it then. The grudge. The pain.

It was unnoticeable at first because, like his father, Aiden traps his feelings in a vault. It could be due to his abnormal childhood, losing his mother while being so young, or being raised by a control freak like Jonathan. It could be all of them.

The fact remains that Aiden blames his father for Alicia’s death. Just like I did in the past. I thought he didn’t protect her and that, because of his disregard, my sister died too soon.

“Was Jonathan too negligent?”

“To her physical needs? No. But to her emotional ones?” He scoffs as if that’s all the answer I need.

“I’m so sorry.”

He pauses, lifting his head a bit. “What are you apologising for?”

“Not being there when she left. It would’ve been different.”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” he says, but there’s no harshness behind it. “It wouldn’t have been.”

“It would’ve. For both of us.”

Maybe if I’d been there, I would’ve somehow filled the emotional gap between him and his father. Maybe they could’ve anchored me after losing the only two people I considered family.

Maybes are too cruel.

The fact that those things didn’t happen and never will hurts worse than physical pain.

“You’re not her,” Aiden whispers.

“I know. I never wanted to be.”

“No. You’re not her.” There’s no accusation in his voice. It’s more like…sadness? “You won’t fall like she did.”

“What makes you think that?”

He hesitates. It’s the first time I’ve witnessed Aiden hesitating. “Jonathan never looked at her the way he looks at you.”

My breath shortens at his words, but before I can say anything, Elsa saunters in carrying a mug of hot chocolate and places it between my stiff fingers. The warmth dissipates some of the cold, but it doesn’t fight off the tremors.

I don’t miss how Aiden’s eyes follow Elsa’s every movement as if she’s the magnet to his steel. It’s like he’s physically unable to keep his attention off her.

“You have to change your clothes so you don’t catch a cold,” she tells me. “We’re different sizes, but I’ll see what I can find.”

“No, I better go.” I start to stand, but she gently sits me back down.

“Nonsense. You can’t drive back this late and in the midst of this rain. Stay the night.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“Jonathan won’t mind if you spend a night out.” Elsa peeks at her husband and asks in an unsure tone. “Right?”

“He would.” Aiden lifts a shoulder. “But stay anyway.”

Both Elsa and I freeze, unsure if we heard him correctly. Did Aiden just tell me to stay over?

Elsa is the first to recover and grins at him wide, her nose scrunching. “Totally. Let me get you some dry clothes.”

Fifteen minutes later, I’m wearing one of Elsa’s dresses. She’s one or two sizes smaller and I’m taller than her, so the cotton material tightens around my breasts, stomach, and hips, and it doesn’t even reach my knees.

Still better than wet clothes. I also change my bandages to dry ones. Jonathan’s voice about not reopening my wounds echoes in my ears the whole time.

Then he looked at me that way. Like he thought I was crazy. Like he was disappointed in me.

I can’t chase that look out of my head, no matter how much I try. I also can’t stop thinking about his platonic touch this morning.

It could be that I’m being petty, but I opt not to tell him where I am. He’s not my keeper. He doesn’t need to know where I’m spending my night.

I join Elsa in the kitchen, and to my surprise, she’s only Aiden’s sous-chef. His movements are organised and precise, and he knows his way around everything.

“Do you always cook?” I try, expecting him to ignore me.

He nods but barely pays me any attention. Well, that’s a start, I guess.

“I’ll tell you a secret,” Elsa leans in to whisper. “I don’t cook, like at all. Aiden doesn’t let me.”

“Well, I’m not so good at cooking myself,” I murmur back. “No one should allow me near a kitchen.”