CHAPTER 30
The moment Hayes saw the condition they were both in, she sent them home on medical leave without another word.
The doctor's verdict was brief: severe exhaustion, bruising, a mild concussion, and bleeding from ruptured capillaries caused by the coughing fit. A few days of rest, medication, and absolutely no physical strain.
Rick had no desire to argue with that.
He spent almost the entire first day asleep. The painkillers dulled the ache in his ribs, but every time he rolled onto his side, his body immediately reminded him it was still there. His split lip stung unpleasantly, the finger marks on his neck had darkened even more, and every deep breath still left a dull heaviness in his chest.
By evening, he felt a little better.
He lay on top of the blanket, absently flipping through a book, but after only a few minutes he caught himself staring at the same page again.
He closed it and set it beside him.
The apartment was unusually quiet.
His phone lay on the nightstand.
Several times, Rick picked it up without thinking, checked the screen, then set it back down again, not even sure what he was waiting for.
He took his medication, switched off the bedside lamp, and the room sank into dimness.
Pulling the blanket up to his chin, he carefully rolled onto his side. A dull pain answered immediately from his chest, making him wince under his breath.
Sleep refused to come.
He closed his eyes.
A few minutes later, he opened them again.
Rolled onto his other side.
Then back onto his back.
The moment the room fell completely silent, his thoughts returned on their own to the one thing he had been trying with all his strength not to remember.
The last thing he remembered before losing consciousness was Aaron's white shirt and the blood slowly spreading through the fabric.
Rick let out a heavy breath.
"I hope... the wound didn't open too badly."Sleep remained stubbornly out of reach.
He no longer knew how long he had lain there, tossing and turning in the darkness, but every time he closed his eyes, his memory carried him back to that warm living room where there had been no distance left between them. For the hundredth time, he tried to convince himself that he never should have done it. That it had all been the exhaustion and the strain of those impossible days. That if he'd been completely clear-headed, he never would have let himself cross that line.
But the excuse fell apart the moment he examined it honestly.
It wasn't the alcohol.
The alcohol had simply made him stop hiding what had already been living inside him for a long time.
He slowly dragged a hand over his burning face and let out another weary breath.
Lying there in bed, in complete silence, he understood one painfully simple thing with absolute clarity. He had loved kissing Aaron.
He had loved feeling the taut muscles of Aaron's thigh beneath his palm. Feeling the warmth of his body against his own. Breathing in that familiar scent that had always filled him with an inexplicable sense of calm while making his head spin at the same time.
The memories spread through him again, slow and warm, settling low in his stomach. He squeezed his eyes shut as his entire body betrayed him by tensing.
Yes.
That was the truth.
Kissing Aaron had felt...
...achingly good.
But the most frightening truth wasn't even that. It was that he wanted more.
He wanted to feel Aaron close again. To touch him. To kiss him again — without haste, without pain, without blood staining their clothes or ringing phones dragging them back into reality.
After all these years, he had finally stopped lying to himself.
And with that realization came shame.
Not for the kiss itself.
For the way it had happened.
On a rush of adrenaline, after two glasses of champagne and half a glass of whiskey. Without asking. Without giving Aaron time. Without giving either of them the chance to reach that moment differently.
"God... I'm such an idiot..." Rick muttered under his breath as he rolled onto his other side.
He knew perfectly well that it had been leading to this all along. There was no way not to notice it.
And that was exactly why he felt so ashamed.
Not because he'd kissed Aaron. But because he'd stolen their first kiss in such a stupid way.
It wasn't supposed to happen like that.
That single look came back to him. And the quiet:
"Forget it."Rick winced.
What if Aaron already regretted it? What if that was why he'd shut himself away again so completely, as though nothing had happened between them?
Rick couldn't blame him for that.
If their places had been reversed, he probably wouldn't have known what to say afterward either.
He buried his face in the pillow and let out a muffled groan. After their medical leave ended, he'd have to look Aaron in the eye again. Work beside him. Pretend none of it had happened.
The thought alone made him want the ground to swallow him whole.
Slowly, he reached for his phone again.
The screen glowed softly in the darkness.
00:53 shone in the upper-left corner.
Rick stared at Aaron's contact icon for a while, as though he still had time to change his mind. But his fingers touched the screen on their own.
The chat opened.
Their last message still sat exactly where the conversation had ended several days earlier.
Rick looked at it for a moment, then absently scrolled upward through their conversation.
Short work messages. A few crime scene photos. A couple of stupid jokes.
He was just about to lock the phone when, after scrolling back to the bottom, he suddenly noticed a short line beneath Lake's name.
Typing...Rick froze, his breath catching for a moment. He didn't even realize he'd tightened his grip on the phone.
The words disappeared immediately, and Rick couldn't help smiling faintly.
"You saw that I noticed... didn't you?"The screen stayed silent.
A few seconds later, as though confirming his suspicion, the words appeared again.
Typing...Then vanished once more.
Rick waited a little longer, but the chat remained empty.
He let out a quiet breath and glanced automatically at the clock.
00:56.He was about to turn the screen off when the familiar words appeared beneath Lake's name again.
Typing...The phone vibrated softly.
1 new message.
How are you?Rick simply stared at those two words, unable to stop smiling.
He opened the keyboard, but his thumb hovered above the screen. For some reason, his heart was pounding somewhere high in his throat.
He absentmindedly bit his lip.
Only then did his fingers finally begin typing.
Alive.He let out a breath without even realizing he'd been holding it.
Then quickly typed another message.
How are you?He looked at the words for several seconds.
Then slowly erased them.
"Stupid. He just asked me first."He tried again.
How's your side?Rick frowned immediately.
"No. That makes it sound like all I care about is his wound."The screen was blank again.
He rubbed the bridge of his nose wearily and sat staring at the blinking cursor waiting patiently for the next word.
The truth was, he wanted to ask about something entirely different. He wanted to know whether Aaron had managed to get any rest. Whether his side still hurt. Whether his head was bothering him.
And whether he regretted what had happened between them.
But he couldn't bring himself to type any of those questions.
His fingers touched the keyboard again.
This time they wrote only a single word.
You?Before he could rethink it, he pressed
Send.
It was probably the dumbest reply imaginable.
And yet, for some reason, he felt certain that Aaron would understand everything left unsaid between the lines.
Rick drew a quiet breath...
...and forgot to let it out.
Typing...Rick froze.
Same.Just one word. But somehow it was enough.
He chuckled softly, locked the phone, and placed it back on the nightstand.
The room sank into darkness once more.
Rick rolled onto his other side, pulled the blanket almost up to his nose, and closed his eyes.
Sleep still didn't come.
But now, it was for an entirely different reason.
The corners of his mouth kept lifting on their own.
Rick buried his face in the pillow, as though it could hide the utterly ridiculous smile on his face.
Only then did he finally feel exhaustion beginning to claim him.
***
Morning greeted him with gray light and a dull ache in his ribs.
Surprisingly, he'd slept well. When he woke, Rick lay staring at the ceiling for several minutes before finally convincing himself that his body was cooperating a little better than it had yesterday.
Carefully, he sat up in bed, winced, pulled on the first T-shirt and sweatpants he found, then padded barefoot out of the bedroom.
On his way to the bathroom, his eyes drifted to the phone he'd left on the nightstand the night before.
Rick paused.
Unlocked the screen.
Their conversation from last night was still open.
Without meaning to, he smiled, picked up the phone, and reread the last four messages for no particular reason.
How are you?Alive.You?Same.His thumb hovered over the screen for a moment.
Then he finally typed:
How's your side?Almost immediately, the message changed to
Read.
No reply came.
Rick shrugged, set the phone down, and went into the bathroom.
He had only just squeezed toothpaste onto his toothbrush when a brief vibration came from the other room.
When he returned, he saw:
Aaron L.: 1 new message.
Without waiting, Rick opened it immediately.
I'm fine.Rick let out a quiet huff.
"Of course you are."He was about to slip the phone into his pocket when the screen lit up again.
It hardly bothers me.A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth again.
"You're lying. And you're terrible at it."Just yesterday, the wound had opened again right in front of his eyes.
Still smiling, he shook his head. Warmth spread beneath his ribs once more.
Good.After sending the message, Rick put the kettle on, and while the water slowly began to rumble, he found himself picking up his phone again.
He stared at the screen for a while. Then, at last, he typed:
That was awkward.The reply came almost immediately.
What was?Rick couldn't help smiling.
I feel bad about your shirt......
The
Typing... indicator appeared almost instantly.
Disappeared.
Appeared again.
Only then did a single message appear on the screen.
-🙄Rick couldn't hold it in anymore and laughed quietly.
Instead of replying, he simply reacted with a small 🙂.
Only then did he put the phone away.
He set a frying pan on the stove, opened the refrigerator, and spent a few thoughtful seconds staring at the contents, as though hoping they had somehow assembled themselves into something edible overnight.
They hadn't.
Ten minutes later, a plate held a slightly overcooked fried egg and two unevenly browned slices of toast.
He gave the result of his efforts a critical look.
Cooking was clearly not one of his talents.
Rick set a mug of coffee beside the plate, sat down at the table, and opened the news feed on his phone.
His eyes drifted over the headlines, but almost none of what he read stayed with him.
Every so often, he caught himself glancing back at the top of the screen, where no new notifications had appeared.
The whole thing was becoming almost funny.
Rick shook his head, took a sip of coffee that had already gone lukewarm, and finally forced himself to set the phone farther away.
Around noon, his thoughts drifted back to yesterday's interrogation.
Again and again, he replayed Cooper's words in his mind, remembering every pause, every hesitation, every offhand remark.
Especially the one about Rachel.
If Mark hadn't lied...
Then his alibi really could be verified.
Rick sat for a few more minutes, gazing out the window. In the distance, a milky fog drifted slowly over the familiar pine-covered mountains.
At last, he picked up his phone.
For a while, he stared at his conversation with Aaron, as though trying to decide whether he should text him at all.
In the end, his fingers settled onto the keyboard on their own.
I think we should verify Cooper's alibi today.He read the message once.
Then a second time.
