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We spend the rest of the day at his apartment. I have to take another shower to get all the remnants of leaves and dirt off my skin. Afterward, Aidan puts Neosporin on my cuts and scrapes and bandages my knee. He looks unhappy as he does it, his brows drawn down, his lips pressed to a thin line. Though my injuries are minor and gained in the most wonderful way, he hates to see me hurt. I spend the night again. He wakes me up at dawn and makes love to me with a wordless urgency that leaves me breathless. Then he withdraws into that quiet place inside his head where he goes when he needs to hide. But I don’t ask him what’s wrong. I don’t push. I let him be. He’s not the only one keeping secrets. By the time I get home, Fiona is already there. I find her in Michael’s office, which sends
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