Page 55 of Iron Cross

“Anna!” The shout pulled me from my stupor, and I winced as the blade fell out of my hand, slicing my left palm as it fell to the ground with a clatter.

“Jesus!” Aaron lifted my son off his lap, gently laying him back down. “Are you okay?”

Ignoring the knife, he reached for my hand, opening it to him, and his eyes did something strange. Maybe it was the concern, or something else, but he stared at my bleeding hand with a reverence that unnerved me.

“Come on,” he said, with a swallow. “Let’s get this cleaned up.”

Chapter seventeen

The Kiss

Kira

“My mom used to talk to me about handfasting,” he said, as he wrapped the bandage around my palm. “You cut the palm like this, join your hands, and make vows. Back when she was in Ireland.”

Aaron had gingerly moved my son from the couch into the bedroom, so that he could turn on the overhead light without waking him. I offered to do it myself, but he had told me to sit down at the breakfast table because I was still sick. He didn’t trust me on my feet, and he didn’t want to have to choose between catching me or catching my son, in the event of a fall.

My fever had broken, but the exhaustion of fighting off a basic cold was… well, I was no spring chicken. I might have a cold for three days, but it would take ten business days to feel like myself again.

“You’re Irish?” I tried not to bristle at that.

A lot of people around here were of Irish or Scottish descent. The number of Clancys, Flanagans, and O’Brians was high. Not every Irishman would have ties to the Greens. But that didn’t stop me from pulling my hand from his.

Aaron shook his head, then grabbed my wrist, so he could finish wrapping it.

“Distant,” he said, with a wink. “I just liked my mom’s stories. She was a bit of a romantic.”

“Something about being near a little kid made me think about her, I guess.”

“Is she still… alive?”

The question lingered in the air, but he had no idea why that would be significant to me. The death of Isla Green had an effect on me but her tragedy was interwoven in my life, even without knowing her.

“No,” he said, and as an afterthought added, “God rest her soul.”

“Catholic?”

Why was I looking for similarities between him and the man I had abandoned? Like he was some kind of replacement? As if I could switch one man for another, when the last man was…

Was…

Irreplaceable.

“Yes, I’m Catholic,” he finally answered.

And that sprinkle of hope lit up in my chest. This…didn’tfeel wrong.

I had tried to date, yes. When Magda kept insisting that a mom needed time for herself, and pushed me out the door, I had tried. I had gone for drinks, went to dinner, but nothing ever felt right. Even being there made me feel slimy,and disgusting, as if I was cheating.

So I stopped. Instead, I just went out to a movie by myself and pretended I was on another failed date.

It kept Magda from trying to set me up.

Maybe… just maybe…

Aaron was looking at me with those eyes that looked more brown now than green.

I reached out to touch his cheek with my fingertip. Just to see if they were as chiseled as I thought. They were. Sharp. So was his jaw line, even as it was obscured by the shorn beard. He leaned into my touch, up until the moment I moved to touch the beak of his nose.

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