Page 42 of Queen Rose

Nate

Aria’s eyes slam shut for a second, but then she opens them and abruptly stands up, her hands shaking at her sides. “I’m going to bed. I’ll see you guys in the morning.” Spinning around, she climbs from the tub and hurries back to the house.

My brows knit together as I watch her go. I’m stunned by both everything she said and her exit. I turn and look back at the group, unsure what my next move should be.

Max murmurs, “Nate, you should go after her. I don’t know what the hell that was about, but it’s clear there’s shit going on that she’s not talking about.”

Lyla winces. “Not to anyone. Xander? Do you know what she was referring to? What can’t we know?”

Xander shakes his head, his focus on the water. He rasps, “I don’t know. But tell her I’m sorry, Nate. I wish I’d kept my mouth shut. Whatever she’s going through has gotten worse in the last few weeks. I thought maybe getting involved with you was the problem. I was wrong, and for that, I’m sorry.” He swallows roughly. “But that means there’s something else. And if she won’t allow me to be there for her anymore, it’s going to have to be you.”

I heave out a breath and push myself up to sit on the edge of the hot tub. “I meant what I said. I’d do anything for her.”

After saying a quick good night to everyone, I jog back up to the house and let myself in. Aria’s nowhere to be seen in the main part of the house, so I can only assume she’s gone to our room.

Taking a deep breath, I enter, but at first glance, she doesn’t appear to be here either. But then the sound of water running has my attention shifting to the bathroom. Worried as hell about her, I knock softly on the door. “Aria.”

There’s a sniffling sound which causes my heart to clamp down on itself.

I rap my knuckles against the wood again. “Can I come in, baby?” I just barely manage to conceal the tremor in my voice.

After several seconds go by, she finally murmurs, “Yeah.” She’s making me really fucking nervous.

Opening the door, I slip inside. She’s in the shower, hair piled on top of her head so she doesn’t get it wet, and is letting the water slide over her back. Cautiously, I stand outside the glass enclosure and put my hand up to the glass to get her attention. “Do you mind if I rinse off, too?”

She looks at me, but it’s almost like she’s not seeing me at all, and her eyes are so forlorn and sad I don’t know what to do. I fight the urge to barge in there and instead wait patiently. Slowly, she shakes herself, finally meeting my gaze. She nods. That’s all I get.

I peel my swim trunks from my body and step in with her. For a moment, I stand there, still as can be. I want to show her that she matters to me.

Reaching for her shower gel, I squirt a good amount into my palm and rub my hands together. I lean in and gently kiss the spot just below her ear and then her shoulder. Gently, I turn her to face me, sliding my soapy hands down over her arms. “Is this okay?”

She nods again.

“If you want to talk about it, I’m here.” But Aria says nothing, simply stands there, letting me cleanse her body. I try to be as clinical as I can, soaping her breasts, then slipping my hands down further. I stroke my fingers between her legs before moving on. I draw her close to me so that I can reach her butt cheeks and her back without getting behind her.

When my palm smooths over her right cheek, she flinches and draws in a ragged breath.

“Sorry. Did I hurt you?”

Silently, she shakes her head. Her lack of communication is scaring the shit out of me. And I don’t know what to do for her, other than continue what I’ve started. I run my palms down her silky-soft legs, then once I’ve finished with her, I quickly soap myself up, too, washing away the last remnants of the hot tub water. The entire time, she stares off into space, letting the water stream over her.

When I’m done, I pull her to me, half-terrified she’s going to flip out or something. But she allows it, sagging, practically sinking into me. There’s not a millimeter of space between us, and she feels good, for sure. My dick twitches, but just as it does, her chest heaves. “Shit,” I murmur, holding her protectively in the cocoon of my arms. I can’t gauge the passage of time by the water running cold like I normally would because this place seems to have an endless reserve of hot water in the tank. I hold her for a long-ass time before the shaking of her body finally gives way to heart-wrenching sobs. Fuck.

As I try to comfort her, thought after thought rolls through my mind. She has some good friends there—I’m not sure she realizes how good—but she has to let them in. And every word I told them was true. I’d go to great lengths to ensure her happiness and well-being. Aria has buried herself so damn deep inside me, I feel her pain and her fear. It’s palpable and absolutely overwhelming.

She finally sighs and eases back from me, reaching for the shower valve to cut off the water. “Sorry. I’m fine. I’m just being a big fucking baby.”

I put a few fingers under her chin, tipping her face up. “Do you want to talk about it? You aren’t being a baby. There was a lot going on out there. Lots of undercurrents. I was watching and listening and trying my best to understand where everyone was coming from.”

She impatiently swipes away some tears. “It wasn’t any one thing, honestly. I hate that I’ve been too chickenshit to tell my parents about us. I hate that Xander can’t be the support system I’m used to him being, and it’s not his fault. I have to grow up and deal with my own shit. And I hate that he feels obligated to take care of me and ended up forcing you to talk about something that’s very private. And I know they’re looking at us and hoping I’ve finally gotten myself straightened out. But the reality is my head is all kinds of fucked up, and I’m trying to be the girl you deserve and don’t know if I can be. I might be too messed up, and maybe you should forget about me.”

I absorb everything she says, especially the bit about Xander not being her support system anymore and the fact that she thinks I could ever forget her. I open the shower stall and pull two fluffy towels off the rack. I wrap one around my waist, then take the other and gently pat Aria dry before I tuck the towel around her. Tears are falling down her cheeks, but there’s no sound. It’s those silent tears that get me the worst.

Scooping her into my arms, I exit the shower. She looks warily up at me. “Why?” she chokes out.

I press my lips to her forehead. “Why what, baby?”

She sniffles, resting her head against my chest. “Why are you taking care of me? You shouldn’t want me. I’m damaged. I’m b-broken.”

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