“Aiden, stop!” I shout, rattling the door.

He takes two steps toward Javier, his voice dropping to a vicious, low timbre. “Let me make you a promise, Mr. Solis. If anything happens to her again while she is with you—whether she breaks a fucking nail or ICE itself comes after her—you will be tango dancing across the Mexican border with one leg. And I keep my promises.”

Reagan gasps. It’s the last sound I hear before the world goes silent. My hair stands on end and I taste metal at a sharp bite on my own tongue. I shove at the car door—not to get Aiden’s attention but to rip it open.

Javier’s shoulders hunch a little but he nods. “You’re right, Mr. Hale.” His voice is very quiet. “I screwed up tonight. But I have a question for you. If you want her so safe, where were you? Not your henchman or your money—you!” He points at Aiden, then looks at me. “See you tomorrow, Isa,” he says and stomps off toward the parking lot, my purse still in his hand.

“Isa,” Reagan whispers, shaking my shoulder. “You have to rein Aiden in or you’ll end up losing them both. Talk to him. I’m going to drive Javier home.”

I can’t speak over the tangy rage in my mouth. She gets out of the car and starts running after Javier. Benson leans close to Aiden and mouths something. There is no movement from Aiden whatsoever but he must react somehow because Benson nods and retreats some distance away.

Aiden does not move for a while. Then, slowly, his back relaxes. At last, he turns to face me, eyes lightening. But for the first time, I detest my effect on him. I don’t want to numb anything about what just happened. He strides back to the Rover. With every step he takes, my anger becomes static. My throat starts burning as though it’s warming up for a scream.

He opens my door. “Come, Elisa, let’s go.” He reaches to pick me up.

“Don’t touch me!” The words slip out of my gritted teeth.

“What the—” He stops, his eyes widening as though he is seeing me for the very first time.

“Are you so blind that even with your genius brain, you have no idea that you just humiliated Javier in the worst possible way?”

The V cracks between his eyebrows. “You must be joking! He put you in danger!”

“He did nothing of the sort.”

His jaw locks. “Elisa, he left you behind. You could have been burned.”

“But I wasn’t! And even if I had been, I’m not his responsibility. He looks after me because he cares, not because it’s his job. And now you’ve made him feel like a failure when he’s a big reason I’m here at all.”

“Better him feeling guilty than you being torched alive!”

“Enough!” I shout. “Enough with this saving Elisa rubbish. From our first night together, you’ve tried your best to push me away. Well, your threat to Javier was so disgusting that you may have just succeeded.”

He is frozen. His mouth parts slightly. His eyes still until they resemble solid glass. For a moment, he just stares at me. Then, he blinks. “Elisa, you’re upset and you’ve had a long day. Let’s just go home and we’ll talk about this later.”

“I’m going home with Reagan. Now let me go!”

I’ve hit something because his eyes shift and fade. “Your home is with me,” he says, a wounded edge in his voice.

“No, it isn’t! I don’t know what I have with you, but it’s not home. It’s…it’s—” I look around the car as though the word may materialize there. “It’s a rampage or something. Like you’re trying to save me to make up for God knows what. Why? Am I just another rescue mission here? Or do you actually care about me?”

He draws up to his full height and looks away from me, eyes fixed in the distance, past the Coliseum. He says nothing.

I take a deep breath and close my eyes. Hydrogen, 1.008. Helium, 4.003… When I open my eyes, he is looking at me.

“Do you really want to part like this?” he asks, his voice very low.

His question douses my rage. Do I? Do I want our last memory to be this? Do I really want a last memory at all? I don’t know. But I do know that I cannot think anymore tonight. I just want to be in bed, with problems that even if I cannot solve, I can at least understand.

He takes a step closer when I don’t respond. “Please let me take you home. Our home. It has started to feel like that with you. You can sleep there tonight, and if you still feel this way in the morning, I will let you go.”

He doesn’t move his eyes from my face, as he waits for my answer. Woodenly, I nod. He shuts my door quietly and without another word, walks around the car and climbs next to me. Benson must notice because he strides back to us and slips into the driver’s seat.

“Home, sir?” he asks.

I don’t look at Aiden but I assume he nods because Benson starts driving at an even speed. Drained—more drained than I remember being in a long time—I stare at the night. Fragments of images start playing in my head. My mum’s dress on fire. Javier’s anguished eyes. Reagan’s shocked whisper. Aiden’s vicious threat. And his wounded face now in the end. Over and over and over. I cannot stand them so I close my eyes and lean my head back.

When we arrive at his house, I get out of the car, sensing Aiden behind me. Close, very close. He slides his palm over the pad and the doors open. I march through them, across the living room, noticing our Powell’s books—from a happy time—still on the dining table. His footsteps echo in my wake. At the bedroom threshold, I pause. His footsteps stop too. His body heat reflects on the back of my neck, and my resolve wavers. So I shut the door behind me. His footsteps do not ring in the hallway. I drape what’s left of Mum’s dress over the chaise and take off Benson’s jacket and my heels. The welts have already started to fade. I put on my periodic table T-shirt and climb into bed.

On his nightstand is the frame I gave him. Was he planning on sleeping here tonight? I fight off every single tear, switch off the side lamp and turn on my side. For the first time since we laid eyes on each other, I’m thankful to be alone.

Chapter Forty

Lifeline

I jolt awake with a sense of unease. Dawn light streams between the strands of my hair, tangled in my lashes. I blink once, twice. I am knotted around Aiden’s pillow, clutching it between my arms and legs. Instantly, I remember last night and my body splits in two. My fingers squeeze the pillow to my chest but my senses try to block Aiden’s words echoing in my ears. Mexican border…let you go… Hydrogen, 1,008. Helium, 4.003. Lithium, 6.94. His words go silent, replaced by the first chirps of the resident bluebirds. Then I see him.

“Oh!” I gasp, the pillow plopping on the bed.

Aiden is sitting on the chair in the corner, ankle over his knee, in the same dark jeans and blue shirt as yesterday. In his right hand, tucked between his thumb and index finger is the quill from our first night. He rolls it gently, the Amherst feather quivering from his touch. A few Powell’s books are at his feet, Byron on top. He is not looking at them. His eyes are on me—vibrant but turbulent, as though images have spun in their depths for hours. I try to speak, even a simple “hi”, but I can’t make a sound with my heart crashing against my ribs.

“I don’t want you to leave.” His voice is soft, quiet.

“Why not?” I whisper.

He sets the quill on Byron’s Poems and stands. A look of purpose flashes in his eyes. He takes the five steps between us, while I try to calm my pulse thudding in my ears. I expect him to sit at the foot of the bed but he kneels on the floor next to me.

“Because you were right yesterday,” he says. “Ever since our first night together, I’ve been so consumed with pushing you away that I didn’t realize how much I don’t want it until you threatened to leave me. I’ve watched you sleep all night, afraid it was my last chance. This little wrinkle between your eyebrows didn’t go away even in your sleep. Thank God you took mercy on me and hugged my pillow or I’d have gone insane. I’ve been dreading this morning even more than on embargo night. Stay with me…please!”