Page 33 of In the Arms of a Hero

She had arrived before dawn, eager to take advantage of the earliest morning light as it peeked over the trees to the east before illuminating the waters swirling around the ships. She’d taken over a hundred photographs as the shadows slowly creptaway, allowing the rays of the sun to add sparkles over the surf. At times, the sunlight reflected on the water was almost blinding, but she continued to snap pictures of the glory of the bay in the ever-changing light.

After photographing birds and the shoreline, she turned at the rhythmic sound of pounding footsteps in the sand. With a smile of recognition, she waved as Aaron came into view.

When he stopped beside her, his chest heaved with exertion, and she couldn’t help but admire the sculpted contours of his body. A sheen glistened upon his skin, and as he wiped his face with the T-shirt draped around his neck, she tried to ignore the way sweat droplets rolled down his muscular chest. She’d admired his body before but had pushed those thoughts to the back of her mind when they broke up. But now? Her gaze slowly moved down his torso to the muscles that formed the V that led to his?—

“Good morning,” he said, dropping his shirt over one shoulder.

Glad the sunshine hid her blushing face, she lifted her gaze, unable to deny the spark of attraction that flared between them. She’d felt that fire before but had also been burned. “Hey,” she said with a smile, tilting her head. “What are you doing out here?”

“The truth?”

“Always.”

“Bess told me you’d be out here when I missed you at the shop.”

Belinda’s eyes widened. “And you decided to come out here for a run?”

“Why not? I needed the run, and this place is beautiful.”

She dragged her gaze away from him and smiled. “You’re right. This park is wonderful. Have you ever walked on the boardwalk trails?”

“It’s been a long time since I have.”

“That’s where I was taking pictures,” she said, then looked behind him toward the bay. “Well, there and toward the breaker ships. I was going back on the trails now that the sun has risen.”

“Mind if I tag along?” he asked, his expression full of hope.

“Not at all,” she said, her heart as warm as the fall sun on her face. “I’d love your company.”

He pulled his shirt over his head and slipped his arms through the sleeves. They walked side by side without speaking as she snapped photographs. Finally, coming to a bench under a pine tree with the bay in the background, she shoulder nudged him and asked, “Sit for a while?”

He grinned and nodded. They settled on the wooden bench, their shoulders barely touching. Pulling the strap over her head, she set her camera on the bench next to her, glad to have something to do with her hands.

Aaron leaned forward, resting his forearms on his thighs, and sighed heavily. She wasn’t sure what was on his mind, but the flirty Aaron was now replaced with a man, heavy with silent thoughts. No longer concerned with what to do with her hands, she reached over and gently placed her hand on his back, her fingers spread widely as they smoothed over the tense muscles underneath.

“I was born premature.”

Belinda blinked at his words, and her fingers twitched slightly. Surprise mixed with concern, and her hand halted its movements.

“I spent a lot of my first year in the hospital. Small. Underdeveloped lungs. Fed through a tube that went from my nose into my stomach until I could suck. Weak muscles. I needed special exercises so that my muscles would develop properly. I was slow to speak. Slow to walk. Slow to stand. Slow to do fucking anything.”

He twisted his neck and held her gaze. “Not that I remember back that far, of course. I’ve seen pictures, and Dad and Andy have told me about it.”

She refused to look away, but her mind was racing. He was trying to tell her something profound… something even more than the difficulties and complications of being a preemie. I’ve seen pictures. Dad and Andy have told me about it—Dad and Andy. But he’s not saying Mom.

“After the first year, I slowly improved but spent most of the first ten years of my life always behind… physically, mentally, and we won’t even talk about emotionally.”

She placed her hand on his back again, wanting to offer comfort, but found the feel of him grounded her. She rubbed his back gently, but her heart raced, uncertain what was coming next.

“Yeah… I can see it crossed your mind,” he said, still holding her gaze. “Nomomin the picture. At least not after I was two years old when she decided she wasn’t cut out to be a mom, and certainly not a mom of a kid who cried easily, took longer to feed, and needed assistance. She left and never came back.”

“She… she left?” Belinda barely whispered the questions, unable to believe she’d heard him correctly.

“She packed her bags and left. At least, that’s what I’m told. I was a toddler, asleep in my crib. Well, not really a toddler since I could only stand and barely take a step at the age of two, but you get the idea.”

Her chest constricted with an ache so sharp for the little boy who had to grow up without a mother because she simply walked away. She searched for the right thing to say but knew that platitudes would never convey how much she hurt for him.

He shifted slightly as he sat up, and her hand slid off his back. Reaching around, Aaron wrapped his fingers around hers and pulled it gently so their clasped hands rested on his thigh. “Idon’t want you to feel sorry for me. Of the two of us boys, Andy had it worse.”

---