Sweetheart

46

Lizzie
December 2020

I've been driving for about twenty minutes. It's almost four a.m.
Aaron hasn't spoken a word since we left the house.

It's taking every bit of self-control not to stop in the middle of the road, grip his hand, and check on him. I am well aware of his current unhappiness. And I also know that he not only feels sad, but also betrayed.

Aaron doesn't trust people easily. When he does, he expects them to cherish that gift he offered them like it's a pot of gold. When they throw it away, he snaps. He's like a bomb that goes right back to ticking as soon as it explodes.

I dare a glance at him, but his eyes are stuck on the road outside. I clear my throat. "We're almost there," I tell him. He doesn't reply. I sigh and keep driving.

Ten minutes later, I park in front of Mr. Holloway's house. He lives in an apartment in a six-story building. Aaron and I take the elevator and reach the fourth floor. I open the door and we're welcomed by a warm home.

As we both take off our jackets, I take in the apartment. It's all pretty much together, since there's no wall between the living room and the kitchen. The only two rooms that are separated from the rest are the bedroom and the bathroom.

The living room — which is basically the entire place — has a big couch, an armchair, and a coffee table in the middle. The window is big, and the table where Henry probably eats and works is right below it, with four chairs. The kitchen instead stays on the left of the front door, near the table.
Considering that Henry lives here alone, it's actually a pretty spacious place.

I put the bag with a few things I might need — clothes and toiletries — on the armchair, along with my jacket. Aaron copies my moves and finally speaks. "I'll take the couch."

I look at him, a bit sad. Despite what happened between Aaron and Nate, I can't ignore what instead went down with Grace. "Wanna talk about it?"

He lies on the couch, folding his arms under his head and closing his eyes. "Which part?"

I sigh, sitting next to him. "All of it."

Aaron opens an eye, looks at me, and then closes it again. "No, thanks."

"I want to help you, but I can't if you don't let me in," I tell him softly.

Aaron scoffs. "Yeah, right."

I frown. "What's that supposed to mean?"

He rises on his elbows and looks at me. "I did let you in," he starts. "I let you in because I thought that you'd take my side when things went downhill."

"And I did. I took your side. I always do."

He arches a brow. "Did you?" I stare at him, waiting for him to explain further. "I fucked up by beating Nate. Okay. Fair. But after that?"

"What?"

"Jesus," he swears, sitting up. "Grace kicked me out. She made me leave in the middle of the night. I'm out. Ring any bells?"

I shake my head. "You're not out, Aaron. You can go back."

"Can I? Did she say that? 'Cause last time I checked, she did not reply when I asked her," he points out. I search into my memory, and realize that he's not wrong. "And what did you do when that happened? You just stood there."

I slightly flinch, as though his words have physically hit me. "Aaron."

"You just stood there next to her, silent, while she told me to leave her house. You didn't even try to defend me or— or change her mind. You just let that happen to me. Again." He's right. This isn't the first time he's been kicked out. "I trusted you, and you didn't even hesitate before stabbing me in the back."