Vacant Heart

Chapter Ten

My eyes open, and I come face to face with a chest. A chest lightly scattered with dark hair.

Reality is a bit hazy, and even more so in regards as to how I got here, but after a few seconds of recollection, the events of the night become more than a bad dream. I realize they were real.

The spine-chilling emotions I felt late last night melt through me, and I wonder how I was even able to sleep. With those memories come the ones we made in here, and I focus again on the man whose arms are still caged around me.

Blinking for clarity, my eyes appraise Aidan's chest without moving an inch, swiveling down over the slope of skin between us. He's without a shirt, and the view is impressive. He's cut, and lean, lacking an ounce of excess fat. As would be expected from a solo mountain climber...whatever he called it.

My arms are crossed over my chest, wedged. Lightly, I dust my fingers over his skin, taking advantage of his moments in sleep, admiring his warmth. My feet are ice cold, but he's sustaining the heat for us with just his bare skin. He's not snoring, but his breath is heavy, his exhales strong.

His arms are long enough in length to surround me completely, and surprisingly, they haven't weakened through the night. I don't think we've moved for hours. Knowing it's early, I snuggle into his throat. I'm not sure how much time has passed when movement wakes me again.

Aidan is sliding out of bed. He's careful not in effort not to wake me, and experiencing a fleeting moment of panic at this uncomfortable situation, I fake comatose while he gently lowers my cheek to a pillow, my hands to the mattress. I expect the mattress to move when he gets up, but it doesn't, leaving me doing my best to appear asleep.

Thankfully, my hair is shielding my features, golden against the light.

Until it's not. My chest thumps madly when I feel a soft, hesitant brush of fingers along my cheek, and realize he's pushing my hair back. When they glide along my cheekbone, and round the corner of my eye, utilizing his own time to touch me, I'm positive he's staring at me.

He's watching me sleep.

Such an intimate, uncomfortable...beautiful thing to do.

The moment only lasts a few seconds. He climbs out of bed, and I hear his feet pad across the ground. His bedroom door opens, and I allow myself to finally look, knowing he's gone. Where to, I'm not sure. It's freezing in the room, and without his body to provide sustaining heat, I'm all too aware of it.

It dawns on me then. I flip over, blinking at the window.

It's bright. More of a glowing haze than sunlight, but it's not snowing. I jump out of the bed, and rush to the window to get a look at the damage. The snow is overwhelming and everywhere, feet off the ground. My car is layered under it, only the roof and a potion of the windows of it visible. I can't even see the driveway.

It dawns on me that I'll be able to breathe fresh air today, and that's comforting.  However, the sky is still swirling with activity, which makes me wonder if this is only a small break to the unruly weather. By the window is Aidan's desk, cluttered with frames of pictures, ancient books. I lift a piece of paper, noticing crayon drawings. It's a picture drawn by his daughter, proven by her name scribbled on the bottom, nearly eligible.

She's drawn flowers. Well, one line of green with white pedals attached. The flower looks wilted.

"Morning."

I jump at the intrusion, shocked by how quiet he managed to enter. Aidan is at the threshold of the room, leaning against the doorway. I set down the picture, awkwardly.