The Silence | ✔️

8. R

Desmond didn't notice that I had disappeared for two days. He wasn't concerned that I'd done a runner due to the fact that I hadn't taken a single thing with me. He just assumed that we were on different schedules. There were a few frustrated text messages on my phone. Messages demanding to know what we'd be having for dinner. Or when the washing was going to be done or accusing me of moving the remote or something irrelevant like that.

I had a strong suspicion that the reason he wasn't looking for me too hard, was to do with the fact that he'd left a lot of visible bruising on my face and neck. Ignoring me was his form of pretending that he hadn't done wrong. I'd experienced it before when things got out of hand. His oblivion was ignorant and self serving. Once I had healed, he could acknowledge me without dancing around the fact that the bruises all over me were from a severe beating that he had dished out.

Three weeks after the incident, I was on the mend. The wound from where I had been opened for surgery was still tender but I could walk and work. I just had to take it slow and keep on top of pain relief. I'd pleaded with Maddie to keep me in the hospital as long as she could manage so that I had proper care and was at less risk of being hurt while I was healing. Of course, I'd told her that Desmond wasn't home enough and I needed the extra help. She was more than willing to oblige.

Aiden had been in and out, he brought flowers, meals that weren't hospital food and magazines for entertainment. He'd sat with me and had a game of cards, watched a movie or sometimes we just talked. I was a little on edge whenever he was there though. I worried that Desmond would appear and see us spending time together. I'd come up with a sort of plan B if that happened. I was going to claim that he was a doctor. His sharp, tailored slacks and shirts could have been evidence enough. But it never came to that.

As it was, I got the feeling that he . . . understood. It was unspoken. Neither of us confirmed or denied. But I had a feeling that he knew that I didn't want Desmond and him to cross paths.

"Snap."

"This isn't fair. I can't move as fast as you can."

Aiden grinned as he rested his elbows on the arms of his chair and leaned across, gathering the pile of cards from the mattress top. With precision and grace he began to shuffle them, still watching me with amusement. "How about we do something different then?"

"Do something different?"

"Play something different," he corrected. "What about Poker?"

"No way,"  the loose knot of hair atop my head shook with my refusal. "I don't know a damn thing about poker. I've never been able to grasp it."

"I can teach you?"

"I bet you have a good poker face too," I narrowed my gaze at him. "Definitely a good poker face."

He laughed. "What makes you say that?"

"You're like, stoic and straight faced when you want to be," I blushed a little but continued talking as he arched a brow. "You just have that vibe. I think you'd be able to hide your play really well."

"And you think that you're easy to read?"

I faltered a little as he stared at me with expectation. "Yes?" I murmured with uncertainty.