Forbidden - Karla Sorensen Page 0,59
the second floor, the wall of framed pictures that covered the wall leading to the kitchen, dining, and family room.
At the end of the display, there was one that made him pause—me, my sisters, and Emmett when Lia and Claire finished their undergrad. The twins in their cap and gown were flanked by Molly and me as Emmett stood front and center, sticking his tongue out at the camera.
“He’s your nephew, you said?”
“Yeah.” Then I laughed under my breath. “But sometimes it feels like he’s our little brother. We have a”—I paused—“unique family tree.”
He hummed. “All that teenage anger you mentioned.”
Slowly, I nodded. “Yeah.”
Aiden studied the line of pictures, and I wondered what he was thinking. His gaze landed on one of me, Logan, and Paige when I was sixteen.
“Your mom left the four of you.”
He stated it so simply, without any inflection, that it didn’t knock the breath out of me. Again, I nodded.
When he turned, his eyes held a dangerous edge. “I’d be pretty fucking angry too.”
My smile was wide, my laughter unexpected. But it felt really good. Aiden’s expression softened.
I stood next to him and looked at the picture. “That’s the anger you caught”—I glanced sideways at him—“a couple of weeks ago. My sister invited her to their wedding, and I … didn’t handle it well,” I said wryly. “Maybe I’m still not handling it well.”
Aiden watched me with heavy-lidded eyes. Something about my honesty seemed to affect him the most.
“So I don’t need to expect attacks like that often?” he asked. “I’ll keep my guard up if I should.”
“No,” I answered around a small smile. “You don’t.” At his nod, I breathed just a little easier. “I’ll show you where the utility closet is.”
I brushed past Aiden, my arm grazing his where my shirt had slid off my shoulder, and I felt the small touch down to my toes because his skin was warm and firm. As he followed me, he was quiet, but I got the sense he was studying our home. Studying me.
We passed the guest room and a bathroom, turning by the doorway that led to Logan’s office. Aiden paused, glancing inside. Over my shoulder, I saw him peering at the Washington Wolves paraphernalia lining the walls. Two framed jerseys hung centered over the couch along the back wall from Logan’s professional career and college. Photos of him and Paige, the sisters, and Emmett adorned the wall behind his desk. On the dark wood surface were two massive computer monitors and neat stacks of books and binders.
“No trophies out,” Aiden commented.
I smiled. “I think they’re in a box in the closet.”
His eyebrows popped up briefly. “Mine will probably end up there too. I can never figure out how to display them without seeming pompous.”
“The burden of greatness?” I teased lightly.
One edge of his mouth hooked up in a wry smile. “Something like that. I haven’t set up my home office yet.”
“Probably because you never leave the one at the gym,” I said.
His gaze moved from the office to my face. “If that’s not the pot calling the kettle black.”
“Touche.” I lifted my chin at a nondescript door. “Fuse box is in there. I can go check on the kids so I’m not in your hair.”
“Oh no, you’re going to help.” He was so nonchalant as he said it, opening the door and setting his toolbox down to hold it in place.
One of my eyebrows rose at the evenly spoken command. “Am I?”
He hit me with the full force of those eyes when he turned. “Yeah. Because if this ever happens again, you’ll know what to do.” Aiden jerked his head for me to join him in the utility room.
The small, not at all spacious utility room. The fuse box was on the middle of the wall, flanked on one side by the furnace, the water heater was in the corner, and on the opposite wall was some floor-to-ceiling metal shelving Logan had stacked with tools, light bulbs, and a bunch of other shit I’d never looked at.
All I knew now, as I stood next to Aiden, was that that shelving took up a shit ton of space in that room, and we were forced to stand with our arms brushing as he flipped open the door.
“It’s that one,” I told him.
He nodded. “Can you grab those two boxes on the top of the bag, the small red-handled voltage check next to them, and a flathead screwdriver? Please,” he added when I shot him