Her face tipped up, presenting him with her tear-stained beauty once more. Aiden pulled out a hanky from his jacket and offered it, needing to comfort her somehow.
“Thank y—” A sniffle and a gasp cut off her words. “… ou.”
“Sorry for your loss.” The rumble of his voice sounded deep as the inane words tumbled out of his mouth. He cringed inwardly. What could he say that didn’t sound trite? Hank would know what to say.
Aiden’s brown eyes drilled into her vivid green ones. She was an ethereal beauty. It was heartbreaking to witness the sadness pouring out of such perfection. Her head bobbed as she curled an unsteady hand around her throat, and burst into sobs.
“Oh sh—” He grimaced, raising a cautious hand to pat her on the shoulder. In response, she stepped into his side, grabbing onto the lapel of his jacket. Her jerky movements sent shock waves racing through his veins, the weight of her grip seeping into his bones. His mind blanked for a minute as his body took over. He shook his head to set his synapses scrambling, trying to make sense of this bizarre interaction.
When he arrived this morning, it sure didn’t equate to a feeling of homecoming. He shouldn’t have been surprised at the feeling of displacement and disconnection. That shit was pretty standard. But, this was Alabama. Where he grew up. The only place that had ever felt like home. Now? Sweet home Alabama? Not so much. Standing with his arm around this stranger … this felt more like home. Aiden’s eyes almost crossed from system overload. His body hadn’t really felt anything in so long. He was used to living the life of an international nomad, roaming between photo shoots. His only interactions with others coming from behind a camera lens.
What the hell is happening?
The woman’s shudders slowly lessened to the softer, rise and fall of her chest, as she breathed deeply in acceptance of his comfort. Huh. He had been able to offer something after all. It speared his soul, connecting him to another in a way he had forgotten existed. His breathing slowed in time with hers, every inhale drawing her delicate, jasmine perfume, and the scent of salty tears. Aiden was drawing as much comfort as he was giving, the exchange probably weighing more heavily in his favor. In a moment of tortured surrender, this petite woman had made him see how lonely he was.
Loneliness was his MO.
His life sucked.
Goddamn.
It made him want to wrap himself around this woman, and never let go.
Their cocoon of comfort was shattered as she yanked her body away from his, crossing her arms, consternation written all over her face. At a loss for what to do, he shoved his hands in his pockets. Aiden dimly registered the sounds of car engines starting as the mourners lined up to leave, and the whispers of those few who remained.
“Are you coming to the wake?” Her eyes were almost pleading.
“Yes,” his mouth spoke without connecting to his brain. His intention had been to pay his respects and leave, unsure if he’d even be welcome. Actually, he was certain he was unwelcome. Why was she asking him, a stranger?
Her head jerked in approval, before she again burrowed in the envelope of her friend’s arms, the women then marched away. Aiden hadn’t even noticed the blonde move toward them. He’d been blissfully oblivious, completely absorbed by a woman for the first time in …forever.
He stood on liquid legs, elbows loose, missing the feel of her. Bewilderment doused his ability to think, as he watched her retreat. Something about the texture of her movement stirred the familiarity again. His memories rose closer to the surface, but faded again as she disappeared out of sight.
The energy in the air was noticeably different. Heaviness descended over him again as he turned to the grave to add a shovelful of dirt. Three other men remained to do the same.
“It’s good to see ye again, Aiden. Sorry it couldn’t have been under happier circumstances.” Harry, his friend’s brother, gave him a slap on the shoulder in greeting. The sentiment confused and chipped at his expectation to be treated like a stranger.
He paused to collect his wits, gathering the appropriate words from unused corners of his brain. “I’m crushed that I didn’t get to see him again. He was more of a father to me than my own.” The truth came rushing out, striking him straight through the heart. “I’m so sorry for your loss.” He addressed all three men, again frustrated that he couldn’t think of anything better to say. Harry’s younger brother, Harvey, and Mr. Saunders, the neighbor from across the street, joined Harry.
Hank had been the oldest brother. A tall and sturdy Irishman with masses of black hair, and a beard to match. The younger brothers had inherited red hair from their mother, but they all had the same goliath stature.
In comical contrast, Mr. Saunders was a petite man with thin white wisps of hair. His eyebrows and eyelashes almost invisible against his pale pink skin.
All three men were in their sixties now. Patches of white had bleached the red hair at the brothers’ temples, with several strays flecked about, elsewhere. It was shocking, how much they had aged. He supposed they could say the same about him. He was not yet sixteen when his parents moved him north.
“Would ye like a lift to the wake, then?” Harry asked.
“I don’t suppose ye’ve got a car, at the minute?” Harvey threw a heavy arm around Aiden’s shoulder, stretching slightly, as they were the same height.
“That’d be great, thanks.”
Harry and Mr. Saunders took a more luxurious, Buick, while
