Chapter 72

When I descended, my head pounded with pain, and my heart felt heavier than ever, crushed under a tangle of emotions impossible to shatter. Carlos saw me immediately. His warm brown eyes met mine.

"Miss Wilson—" he began, his voice soft.

"Call me Freya," I interrupted, looking him directly in the eye. My voice was sharper than intended, and exhaustion made it difficult to soften.

He nodded slightly, a laugh crinkling around his eyes. He always discounted my tantrums, a master of patience. "Freya. Sit. I'll get a plate."

Too exhausted to argue, I said nothing. I fell into a chair, folding my arms as he went into the kitchen. He returned within five minutes, carrying a plate.

"You baked croissants!" I exclaimed, some of the misery lifting. My stomach growled; I hadn't realized how famished I was.

"I assumed you liked them," he said matter-of-factly, the corners of his mouth tilting up in a faint smile.

"I do. Thank you." I smiled back, the warmth of his thoughtfulness settling over me like a blanket. It wasn't just the food—it was his attempt to cheer me up, to remind me I wasn't alone.

He reminded me so much of Avery. The resemblance wasn't physical but emotional; both possessed a way of soothing my anxieties. Actually, Avery and Carlos would make a cute couple. If only they could meet.

I shook my head, focusing on the buttery flakiness of the croissants. The taste was divine, a piece of joy piercing my gloom. I was lost in this comfort when Aiden walked in.

The moment he entered, the atmosphere shifted. The easy warmth Carlos had created evaporated, replaced by a tension so palpable it tightened my chest. I didn't look up, but I felt his presence like a physical weight.

He sat directly opposite me, moving with quiet intention. Carlos, noticing this, prepared another plate and then left to feed the puppies—"devils," he called them—Brownie and Oreo, who scampered after him from the room.

The silence was deafening. I stared at my plate, trying to swallow both the food and the growing lump in my throat. My appetite, briefly rekindled, faded quickly. I couldn't ignore him forever.

"I—uh—I wanted to apologize for yesterday," I said hesitantly. I glanced at him. His expression was neutral, but his eyes flickered with confusion.

"I shouldn't have said all that to Gillian," I continued, the words rushing out. "You shared something huge with me, and I failed to respect your decision. I'm really, really sorry if I complicated things between you two."

Aiden's brow furrowed as he processed my apology. His silence churned my stomach, but when he finally spoke, his voice was calm, almost gentle:

"You didn't complicate things between us. It's because of you that we're talking, and that I could share it with my brother. I may not have realized it earlier, but keeping this secret from him was probably not my brightest idea." His words should have soothed my conscience, but they didn't. I didn't understand why until he continued.

"So, I should be apologizing. I acted like an asshole."

I shook my head hard. "No, no. You had every right to be upset. I overstepped. It was a family matter, and I had no business interfering. I had no right to let him hear all that."

His forehead furrowed in surprise.

"Freya, no matter how mad or frustrated I am, I don't have the right to treat you like that. No one does. So you're not at fault. It's me." His tone was firm, brooking no argument. "Besides, what the fuck are you saying? You're my family."

A tear fell. The conviction in his words was breathtaking, though I hesitated to believe them. My family had disappointed me many times; I'd learned not to expect much. Disappointment hurt less when anticipated.

His gaze narrowed, searching mine. "You know that, right?"

"Yeah," I mumbled, my voice unconvincing even to myself.

He kissed me briefly, his gaze piercing. Then he rose, moving to stand before me. He cupped my face in his hands.

"I'm sorry. I was an idiot for telling you to go away when I can't even fucking imagine living without you," he confessed, his voice thick with emotion.

The words hung in the air, their weight settling in my chest. My heart ached, not from pain but from the sheer magnitude of his honesty.

"Last night, we drank too much, and I passed out on Gillian's couch. It was irresponsible, I know, but this morning, the thought of you leaving terrified me. I was worried I might come home to an empty house."

His voice cracked on the last words, and I saw the sincerity in his eyes. He wasn't lying; he meant every word.

"You are my family. So don't pull away from me. I can't take it."

My emotions warred. I wasn't trying to pull away as punishment, but I'd thought some distance would be better for both of us. The closer I got, the more vulnerable I became. And after what happened with his brother, I felt like I'd crossed a line.

Seeing his pain felt like a knife twisting in my chest.

I reached up, pulling his face to mine, pressing my lips to his in a kiss that held all the unspoken words. When I finally broke away, I breathed, "I love you."

"And I love you. So fucking much," he said, capturing my lips again.

In that moment, my doubts and fears vanished. I did something I'd never done for anyone else: I dared to believe in a family of my own. Aiden wasn't just someone I loved; he was someone who saw me, entirely, and chose to stay.