Page 53 of Silent Is The Heart

I must be out of my fucking mind…

I have no pity for this man. I don’t. I keep telling myself that as my shaky legs walk past the sad looking drawstring bag at the foot of the stairs with theMaine State Penitentiarylogo onit and nod for him to follow. I want him gone so badly, that if sheltering him for a few weeks is the price I have to pay to keep him out of my life for good, I’ll deal with it. There’ll be no parole letters next time. Not with the ultimatum brewing in my head. It’s a solid plan that a convict can’t argue with even if it’s taking everything in me not to hyperventilate.

Except, with each step I ascend, a voice in my head tells me I’m dishonoring Mom’s memory by allowing her killer into my home. I’m dishonoring every dream I had about beating him to a pulp.Maybe I could stop before he takes his last breath, but I don’t trust myself. And the thought of a beautiful smile across town is making me not want to go down the path of anger again. I traveled it for so long, I don’t want to go back either now that I’ve found a new course.

Reaching the landing, I wait, watching his slow ascent. He lets out a cough, and I hear the distinct sound of heavy breathing that he never used to have. Adjusting his bag in his grip, he stands humbly, like he’s awaiting orders, and looks at me as though he’s fully expecting me to recant my unspoken offer. I’ve never seen him look like he’s at someone’s mercy. I blame that for the reason I unlock my door—he’s not the same Leonard I knew. Something tells me it wouldn’t be fair to knockthisLeonard down the stairs and watch him break his neck.

As he steps hesitantly inside and I flip on the light, I hate the way my hands are trembling. He has more build to him now, even if he is older. He might be able to take me, but I honestly don’t think he would. I think it’smeI’m afraid of. I don’t want to be the me who hated him. Not anymore. I want to be the me who just left Aaron’s house with a dopey smile on his face.I won’t be able to do that if I have blood on my hands and rage in my heart.

Turning around, he looks at me with an appreciative smile on his face. “Thank you. This means a lot.”

I don’t want this to mean a damn thing. That’s not why I’m doing it. I don’t want his thanks. I don’t care if he memorized the Bible front and back while he was in prison. I’m not forgiving him. I never will. I’m only doing this for Aaron and for me. He already ruined my life once; I’m not letting him do it again.

“You can use the couch and whatever else you need,” I inform him, motioning to it with my chin when he gives me a curious look at the sound of my voice. If I go into detail about why I speak so hoarsely, I might find my hands around his neck. I need to keep my cool. “You can stay long enough to get your shit together to find somewhere else, but then you’re gone. And as soon as parole lets you move on, you’re going to head as far away from Hampton as possible or you’ll regret the day you came looking for me.”

He blinks at me. Why the fuck he looks hurt, I don’t understand. Does he not think I’m serious?

“That’s the fucking deal. The only deal. Do you understand me?”

His face sags, but then he finally nods.

“And I own the shop downstairs, which you apparently already know. I don’t want you down there.Ever.”

Grimacing, the crow’s feet at the corners of his eyes show themselves. He nods again, though. “I get it. A man’s got to work and doesn’t need to be—”

“AndI don’t want tohear youorsee you,” I cut him off.

It’s true. I can’t fucking stand the sight of him any longer. I’ve done my good deed for the year. Turning, I head to my room and shut the door. And then, I lock it and kick myself for leaving the warm bed and the wonderful man that I don’t deserve.Me—the son of a killer who has murder coursing through his veins.

CHAPTER 26

Aaron

Unlocking the door to the cottage, I’m still floating on the perpetual cloud that is any time spent with Easton. So, it’s not exactly embarrassment that has me engaging him. Making up excuses to talk to him has become my new favorite hobby.

“Are you proud of yourself?” I tease, locking up behind him once we’re inside.

“About what?” he chuckles, looking genuinely confused.

“That I made a fool of myself at the movie theater? Did you take me just to find out if I yell at movies in public like I do at home?”

“You only got a few dirty looks,” he says somberly, walking over and cupping my face. When he plants a kiss on my forehead, strands of worry wrap around me.

He’s been subdued lately, and it doesn’t seem natural. Our love-making these past three weeks has been on a plane I’ve never known, more sensual and emotional than I knew was possible. I have zero complaints, but it’s… unexpected not hearing his cocky jokes anymore when we’re in bed or messing around. His expressions get so serious, almost like he thinks I’m going to disappear.

I realize I haven’t known him in eight years and that I’m still learning about him, but if I didn’t know any better, I’dsay something’s troubling him. I don’t think it’s me or us because he’s stayed here every single night since before I can remember. If I was what was troubling him, he wouldn’t stay. Right?

Heading toward the couch, he reaches across his chest and cups his hand over his opposite shoulder. I watch the way his head tilts, stretching out the muscles in his neck and upper back. I remember he said that tattooing can take a toll on your body. He has so many strikes against him from his former injuries, too. It hasn’t passed my notice the way his gait seems rigid sometimes now that it’s getting colder. He probably has more arthritis than a sixty-year-old after what he went through.

“Do you want to watch something and get the rest of it out of your system?” he jests, picking up the remote. “I know you were holding back at the theater.”

See? We’re fine. Hedoesstill tease me, even if not as much as at first.

“I have a better idea.” Taking the remote from him, I set it down on the coffee table. Turning him by the shoulders, I urge him toward the bedroom door. “Why don’t you go soak in the tub while I finish the dishes? It’s getting too cold for you to sneak off to that swimming spot you like. Warm water is better for your bones, anyway.”

“You could just tell me I stink.”

“You don’t stink.” For good measure, I bury my nose in the back of his shoulder and take a whiff. “I love your stink, actually, but you look tired and stiff.”

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