Page 6 of Silent Is The Heart

Shit. He heard me.

I mean, that’s the reason he’s here. And it’s the reason I practiced after hours like a brown-noser, but… I wasn’t sure if I was going to go through with it. Looking at anything but him as he walks into the room proves difficult. My peripheral drinks up any sight of him it can, like he’s a shiny new penny. Milkshakes, again? I didn’t think he was serious. They quickly become an afterthought, though. Why do I want to stare at his face, and… Wait a minute. What the hell is wrong with his face?

Grimacing, he sets a cup down on my bedside table and then fingers a reddened spot above his right cheekbone. “I have a patient with dementia who took a swipe at me. I’d have been here sooner, but it’s protocol that we have to document stuff like that when it happens and get medically cleared to stay on duty.”

When I just blink at him, unsure of what to say or, rather,ifI want to say anything, he must take that as a regression to my oath of silence. Moving to the window, he leans against the radiator, making the view there now a thousand times better. “So… that was really cool,” he adds.

Cool?I’m sure it’s sarcasm, but I can’t find anything funny about being hit in the face. Maybe it’s because I have way more experience receiving the act than he does, but then he clarifies, “Even if it was just to cuss me out.”

Oh…

Right.

I take it back—getting hit in the face might be better than confirmation he actually did hear my broken-ass voice. Great. Now he’s staring at me… just like all the others.

Why did he have to ruin what he brought to the table? Good looks and Easton-praise.

I can hear my mental sigh as loud as a school bell. Tit for tat. I know that’s what this is. If I want him to stay, I’ll need to say something. Lord knows if he gives up on me, anyone else they send will probably be as awful as everyone else here I’ve had to deal with.

Taking extreme interest in a ripple in my bedsheets, I throw him a nod. “You going to live?”

It would be a miracle if he heard that. My voice has one volume now—secret. How freaking embarrassing. You wait for puberty to make you sound like a badass and then life ruins it. My face is on fire; even though I doubt he can see it fully the way I’m staring down at my mattress. I never blush. It’s this freaking place—it makes you feel weak in every way.

A soft chuff flits past his lips. “Yeah. I’m fine. Just enough of a mark that I’m sure my mother will give me an inquisition is all. That’ll be more painful than the damage, trust me.”

I’m not sure if it’s his casual reaction to me speaking again or if it’s that telling admission about his relationship with his mother, but I find myself glancing up. He honestly looks more self-conscious than I feel at the moment. The weight on my chest is suddenly lighter.

How the innocent wear their emotions on their sleeves.

A lifetime of tussles with Leonard taught me not to make a big deal out of a black eye. If I made them a big deal or told anyone the truth as to how I got them, people would think they were a big deal, and that’s the last thing I wanted for Mom. Besides, he rarely got the better of me, saving his wrath for Mom whenever I was gone—the snake.

“I just feel bad for Mister… um, the patient,” he catches himself and nudges the tile floor with the toe of his shoe.“Maybe she won’t notice,” he murmurs more to himself, fingering his cheek again.

Three things occur to me as I stare at the puddle of goo he is. We’re not patients to Aaron—we’re people. Two—he doesn’t want his mom to worry about him, which shouldn’t be as adorable as it is to me right now. And, three—even though my voice is a distant memory of what it was or ever could be, and I’m younger than him, maybe I can impart some life wisdom that will keep his pretty face intact.

I gesture to preface that I’m going to attempt more words, so he’ll listen up. “Never stand within… reach of someone you… you can’t trust.” He looks equal parts thrilled by hearing my wreck of a voiceandadvice. It pulls on something needy inside me I didn’t know existed, so I continue with more nonsense just to keep his attention. “And maybe just tell your mom… you were helping an old lady pick something up… off the floor, and she elbowed you.”

I hate how it sounds like I’m winded. It doesn’t help that his expression is so damn grateful and pleased, further stealing my breath.

“Very noble of me,” he concedes with a smirk. “And sounds like it’ll keep me from hearing how dangerous my job can be. I might have to schedule a few more appointments for your services.”

I’m glad he picked up what I was laying down, but my air supply doesn’t improve, watching him move from the radiator to the easy chair next to my bed. Either my advice about not getting within arm’s reach of someone went in one ear and out the other, or he trusts me. I’m not sure why that means as much as it does.

I don’t trust anybody.

I don’t.

His lips wrap around his straw, innocently. His mouth ticks up at one corner, smiling while he takes a drink. Eyeballing my dripping cup, I can’t believe he actually followed through on the milkshake thing.

Anybodykind of sounds like one few too many people all of a sudden.

Ah, fuck.

What has he done to me?

CHAPTER 4

Easton

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