Page 32 of Twisted Hearts

17Aaron

I inhaleda plate of cheesy grits, eggs, fat sausages, and golden, buttery toast, only pausing long enough to thank Megan for making me breakfast. I’d been watching her like a hawk since her breakdown. After she told me her story yesterday, my watchful eye grew even keener. She’d come back to me, but not all of her had returned.

Megan was the hardest puzzle I’d ever tried to solve. Initially, I thought I knew enough about her to see a clear image come into focus. However, I think that there were more pieces to this woman that I couldn’t see and that she wasn’t revealing. I was certain that Megan had only revealed to me what she wanted me to know, making it difficult to help her. How was I supposed to help her heal when I didn’t have a clue as to what she needed?

“I’m going to get you out of this house today,” I blurted out. “I’ll take you on a bike ride.” My statement pulled a fake smile from her as she sat in front of me picking at her food. It was obvious that she had gotten better, but she was nowhere near back to normal…the normal I knew.

One of her brows lifted at my statement, but she didn’t say anything. I knew her well enough to know that look. Her mind had latched onto something she couldn’t shake or get out of her head. I wish she’d tell me what she was thinking. I wanted her to tell me everything, no matter how embarrassing or crazy. I wasn’t afraid to admit that I didn’t have my shit completely together, but I was more than willing to help Megan if she’d just let me.

“I really should be getting back to my condo,” she said as she scooted her chair back and headed towards the sink with her plate. After she tossed the food she hadn’t eaten down the disposal, a loud grinding noise sounded as my suspicious eye remained on her back.

Her movement away from the table had been swift, but not swift enough. Tears had started to pool in the corners of her eyes, which was likely the reason why she’d jumped up from the table as quickly as she had. Megan wasn’t hurting physically, but she was suffering mentally. Seeing her battling her mental anguish and not being able to help her was killing me.

She wiped at the already clean countertop, a clear indication that something was bothering her. With clearer eyes, she glanced back at me. “I need to move my belongings. My lease will expire in a week.”

This was her second time mentioning going back to her condo to finish packing. I had been so upset with her when I was spying on her that my mind had noticed but had chosen to ignore the fact that she’d already started packing. I’d seen boxes stacked in her bedroom and some in the living room. She had insisted that she was packing and heading for South Carolina, but I didn’t believe her for a minute.

I wanted nothing more than to pull more information out of Megan, but I had to consider the fragile state of mind she was still in. Therefore, I treaded lightly and refrained from putting too much pressure on her by interrogating her. She didn’t want me to know where she was moving to and I was beginning to think she had a good reason why. I was obviously becoming obsessed with the woman.

“You need a few more days to relax,” I suggested. Truth was I wasn’t ready to let her go. “I’ll go with you and help you pack if you think you’ll run out of time.”

She dropped her gaze and proceeded to clear my empty plate and glass from the table without answering me. I squinted, eyeing her suspiciously. She was hiding some shit, and I intended to find out what it was. I still didn’t understand why she’d concocted that elaborate plan to infiltrate my MC. She had claimed it was for some type of self-prescribed therapy she’d come up with; flirting with danger to try to understand herself better. That was a load of bullshit if I’d ever heard one.

I flirted with danger damn near every day of my life and it did nothing in the way of helping me understand myself better. I believed Megan knew exactly who she was, but she was afraid to reveal herself fully to me for some reason I had yet to understand.

Megan had revealed to me another chapter in her twisted life when she told me about her foster family, but she had many other skeletons buried deep inside her mind. How many more secrets was she harboring? Had she gotten herself into some type of trouble that she didn’t see a way out of?

She wasn’t wanted by the authorities as far as I knew and as far as D’s digital reach went. Other than her frozen juvenile records, her life after Ravencrest as Lacey Daniels had been as clean as a whistle. The thing that concerned me was the life she led under the different aliases she used.

What had Megan Jones, the writer, been up to? What had Kelli Hunter, another of her aliases, been up to? How many other people had she become? Why did it seem like she was running from something? Or better yet, why did it seem like she knew exactly what she was running from? These were the kinds of questions I wanted answers to but was forced to keep to myself.

“Aaron, I know you don’t care, but biking with me can be dangerous. Do you think it’s a good idea to be seen around here with me on your bike? Despite your cousin’s ways, I think Jake was right about the people around here not taking too kindly to us mixing, especially in a romantic way.”

I flashed a smile at her. She wasn’t going to talk her way out of this. This was something that I thought might help her, and I at least wanted the chance to try it out before she shot it down.

“I considered that,” I finally told her. “I know a place we can go. I’ll hitch the trailer to my truck, load the motorcycle, and we’ll take a nice long relaxing ride.”

A small smile crept across her mouth before she nodded and proceeded to wash the rest of the dishes. I sat watching, observing, anxious to ask, but holding back the questions that had my tongue itching. Megan needed to heal more than I needed to satisfy my urge to figure her out.

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