Page 132 of Phishing for Love
“Aaron hates talking about his past,” she says after a moment. “Especially Kayla.”
“I’m still taking it in,” I confess in disbelief. “To be honest, I feel hurt he didn’t tell me.”
Nina’s eyes fill. “He’s been through so much heartbreak.”
“I can’t believe he’s had so many awful things happen to him.” My voice is shaking. I can’t even imagine what the last five years have been like for Aaron.
Nina bites her lip. “Aaron believes tragedy follows him around. That it has something to do with him.”
“That’s silly.”
“It is,” she says carefully. “But tragedy can affect people in different ways, and this is how it’s affected him.”
I frown. Nina’s trying to tell me something, but it’s clear she doesn’t want to betray Aaron’s confidence and say too much.
“Just be careful,” she says, closing the discussion.
At first, I think she’s warning me to be careful with Aaron, warning me not to hurt him because he’s been through so much.
Except, judging from her expression, I have the strangest feeling it’s not Aaron she’s trying to protect. It’s me.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Aaron maintains a careful silence while we walk through the parking lot. When we’re finally alone in the car, driving back to Brown Oaks, he says in a low voice, “You’re mad at me.”
I let my head fall back as I blink up at the roof of his car. “Honestly, I don’t know what I’m feeling. I’m so mixed up. Yes, I’m a little angry. It seems like you’re keeping so many secrets from me that I can’t help wondering what else you’re hiding.” I let out an unsteady sigh. “But mostly I’m sad.”
“Sad,” he repeats flatly.
“Yes,sad.” I look over at him. “For you. For what you’ve had to go through.”
His hands clench on the wheel. “This is why I didn’t want you to know about Kayla,” he says. “I don’t want you feeling sorry for me. I don’t want to be an object of pity in your eyes.”
“So, your solution was to keep it from me? For how long?”
He’s quiet, jaw taut, looking fixedly ahead.
Then I get it. In a soft, bitter voice, I answer my own question. “You were never going to tell me. You were just going to keep it from me and leave.” That, I realize, is Aaron’s precious, insulating strategy, how he stops himself from getting too close. He simply steps away to create a necessary distance. “And you leave in just over a month.” My voice is mocking, slightly cruel. “You were so close to keeping your secret.”
“It’s not like that, Tess.”
I turn in my seat to face him, staring at his side profile, which looks both grim and terribly vulnerable in the late-afternoonlight. “What is it like, Aaron? Because I really want to know. I’m tired of being kept in the dark.”
“I meant to stay away from you,” he tells me gruffly, his grip on the steering wheel tightening. “I tried.”
My eyes widen as comprehension dawns. “Is this why you move around all the time? Why you only take on short-term contracts? So you don’t get close to anyone?”
He doesn’t reply, but his silence is answer enough.
My mind flashes to the very public scene in the restaurant when Aaron shut down his girlfriend’s proposal to move in with him. “I’m just another Ashley, aren’t I?” I say dully.
“You are not another Ashley!”
His voice is fierce, but I’m not listening to him. The realization that I’m probably one of the many faceless, forgotten women he’s left scattered across the country settles like a cold, hard stone in my chest, blocking out anything else.
“At least you won’t have to worry about me creating a scene,” I whisper. “It looks like our ending will be just the two of us alone in a car, all discreet and civilized.”
“You think I’m a player?” he asks, incredulity sharpening his tone.
