Grace hung back in the crowd, pulling on the strings of her hoodie to tighten the dark blue cotton around her face. If someone turned around and glimpsed her, they would surely be alarmed, since she went from blushing and smiling to despair in a seemingly endless cycle. Oh, and then pride would storm in and wipe everything clean, because there was Aaron, the lover in whose arms she’d slept last night, commanding a mass of people, all while cameras whirred and snapped shots of him.
He’d been gone from the sleeping bag when she’d woken up, but there’d been a backpack full of her clothes, telling Grace he’d either woken up early enough to collect garments from her house, or arranged to have it done. The gratefulness had been eclipsed in short order, however, by one question. What now? Last night, she’d been chock full of bravery. Seduce this strikingly attractive, razor-sharp man and everything else will fall into place. By not allowing that physical connection, they’d been maintaining a barrier and she’d intended to knock it down. Had she?
An answer wouldn’t be coming anytime soon, since Aaron was in charge of an army. An army sent to make her dream a reality. She needed to remember that. After coming out on the other side of YouthAspire, she’d tried so many methods to make the injustice of that day right. In her mind, building something positive over a negative was the only thing that made sense. Whether or not these volunteers and staffers knew it, they were there to complete a vision she’d thought would take a decade. Aaron led that charge.
Had she really thought his leadership qualities a bad thing? She might have qualms with how he chose to employ his persuasive skills, but watching him hold the audience captive made her feel…proud. Had she ever felt that way about Ray Solomon or the therapist her parents had hired? No, she didn’t think so. There was a note of truth in Aaron’s words, as if he believed them. Would make the promises reality. She wanted to believe him so badly, especially knowing that, deep down, he lacked that same trademark confidence in his own character. A belief she’d helped further by letting the past intrude.
Starting that very second, she needed to be grateful for the good happening around her. Aaron taking her words at face value last night and confining their relationship to one evening only mired her in self-pity. Especially considering he’d begun writing his name on her heart the night he’d tied ribbons into her hair and sealed the deal last night inside that tent. But she wouldn’t wallow if he decided to cut and run. No. She would just reverse tactics and try again. Now if only she had a club with which to smack him over the head. And a cave where she could drag him.
As Grace took a deep breath and straightened her shoulders, she couldn’t help begging Aaron silently in her mind to come through. For her. For them. And there was a them. That certainty sat in her belly like a cement. Even if they had to walk across a series of shaky stepping-stones to find out what they could be…she could ignore the rushing river on either side and hold his hand for balance.
“We have bunk bed deliveries coming at noon, courtesy of the Pendleton campaign, so this morning is all about out with the old, in with the new.” The wind cascading over the crowd was all that could be heard, apart from Aaron’s rich, confident voice. “Cleaning. Now I know it’s not the best gig, but if we can get those cabins cleared by midday, beers are on the senator tonight.”
A mighty cheer went up around Grace, accompanied by a moment of clarity. Yesterday, her attention had been diverted by Aaron, but here were the differences between them, coming home to roost. She looked around, noticing the volunteers were all young, their choice of clothing current, right down to their Pendleton campaign T-shirts, complete with a new #Respect Twitter hashtag she’d never seen before. Every word out of Aaron’s mouth targeted the demographic he’d been hired to seduce, the camera absorbing it like a sponge. His delivery was seamless and undetectable, until his gaze landed on her in the gathering of people and his speech faltered, his eyes clouding over. Just for a second, before he recovered.
“Toward the back of the property, there is a recreation area with a pool, archery range, and stables. For those of you who don’t mind the cold, I suggest heading back there and clearing away some of that annoying foliage.” He smiled and a feminine murmur floated through the volunteers. “Any questions you need answered can be directed toward the volunteers wearing red shirts—they’ve all been briefed on the direction we’re taking, so please don’t hesitate. Let’s get this right.”
“How is this project being funded?” a male reporter asked, directing his cameraperson to get a close-up of Aaron. “It can’t all be stolen campaign money.”
Aaron laughed, along with the crowd. “That’s how it started. Now we have to keep the ball rolling. Overnight, we’ve raised thirteen thousand dollars through a crowd-funded campaign.” He announced the website, then repeated it. “The senator—who should be with us shortly to make a statement—wants this to be America’s project. Not just his. Respect starts at the ground level and we’re working to earn yours. Thank you. Now’s let get to work.”
He clapped his hands, and like that, the crowd dispersed as if they’d been ordered by God himself, which probably accounted for Grace not following suit. Watching them go, she wrapped her arms around her middle, working to maintain the excitement of everything that would be accomplished that day. She was visualizing pristine cabins and a functioning kitchen when Aaron stopped in front of her, blocking out the morning sun.
“Hey, hippie.”
Why wasn’t he smiling? Shouldn’t he be triumphant after what he’d managed to pull together in one single day? The camp had gone from a sad ghost town into a hive of activity. “Hey back.”
He was quiet, as if waiting for her to say more. But she didn’t know where to start. The dangerous what now question sat on her tongue like a spicy mint, begging to be spat out. And now, after having their differences reestablished, there were additional doubts trying to creep back in. If only he were wearing the white thermal and a beanie, she wouldn’t feel so thrown. His crisp blue suit made him seem to untouchable, a zillion miles from how he’d been last night.
“Listen…” He slid his fingers along the inside of his collar. “Last night—”
“It was a mistake,” Grace rushed to say. Even now when she thought about how inappropriate and downright reckless it had been to take Aaron inside her without a condom, she flushed to the roots of her hair. “I’m sorry.”
Aaron’s face paled at her apology. “Right. No, you’re right. It was. A mistake.” He coughed into his fist, looking everywhere but at her. “You’d been drinking and I shouldn’t even have let you into the tent. I take responsibility for the…mistake.”
“I…” A sharp, invisible object stabbed Grace between the ribs, forcing her to stop for breath. “I only meant the condom part,” she murmured. “N-not the whole thing.”
His laugh was low and humorless, but his smile dropped so fast, it was a wonder she didn’t hear it hit the ground. “Huh.” They stared at each other for long moments, the wrenching pain in Grace’s side growing unbearable. Maybe she wasn’t fit to be around normal people. She’d preempted anything Aaron had been about to say by calling their night together a mistake. Now the words had been said from both of them and all progress had been obliterated. “Should we worry…” He stepped close, softening his voice. “Should we worry you might get pregnant? I was…God, I was leaking by the time—”
“No,” Grace breathed, the tingle of arousal going a long way in decreasing her pain, but not all of it. “I’ve been on the pill since college.”
Aaron nodded. “Okay.” He stepped away, turned around, came back. “Look, Grace. I don’t know what the fuck just happened here.”
“Me either,” she said, gratefulness flooding her chest at his honesty.
This time when Aaron laughed, there was a small note of relief, but his golden brown eyes remained hooded, guarded. “A shipment of medical supplies came in for the infirmary. I think it’s a good idea to have the place stocked in case someone gets injured while working.” He glanced around. “We have a doctor on hand, but I’m not sure where he’s gone.”
She noticed a tiny cut on his chin and realized he’d nicked himself shaving. And that little imperfection made her feel closer to him. Made him resemble the man he’d been last night. “You want me to help unload the medical supplies?”
“You don’t have to do a damn thing,” Aaron answered, suddenly serious. “But I haven’t forgotten this is your dream we’re building. And I’ve just walked in and taken over, the way I do with every fucking situation. So please tell me what you want to do. I’ll give it to you.”
“I want to unload medical supplies,” she whispered, overwhelmed in the face of his acknowledgment. Just him, in general. He was so present and perceptive and hidden, all at once. Couldn’t he tell she just wanted a hug?
“Okay,” Aaron said finally. “Anything else?”
She’d hidden the next request so deep, it had always been so far in the future, it took Grace a beat to unearth the idea, dust it off. “I want my name added to the list of campers who were there that day, when the fire happened. I don’t want it covered up anymore.” Her chest felt lighter. “It’s like I’m deserting them all over again.”
Aaron was very still. “Don’t think like that. It’s not the same.” He waited for her reluctant nod, his gaze fixating on something beyond her shoulder. “I don’t know if I have the power to change something like that, Grace. I don’t know that I want to, either.” She glanced back to find several cameramen loading their equipment into vans. “They’d turn something good into a circus. I really don’t like the idea of that touching you.”
Grace understood. She also knew her father had taken her name off the list of campers who’d been duped by Ray Solomon for the same reason. But good intent from those around her didn’t diminish the wish. Or make it any less valid. “I understand,” she told Aaron honestly, reaching out to squeeze his arm without thinking. When he only stared down at the contact point, Grace slowly removed her touch. “Thanks for what you’re doing. I’ll be in the infirmary.”
As soon as Grace walked away, Aaron was hit with questions from nearly everyone in the vicinity. It took him a moment to start answering, his gaze hot on Grace’s back—or was that her imagination?—but he came around in no time, responding in his usual, self-assured manner. It only took Grace five minutes to reach the infirmary, kind of relieved she would be alone with her thoughts for a while. But when she opened the door, a man in khakis was bent over, rummaging through an open cardboard box.
The man—probably in his mid-thirties—jerked up, holding up both hands, obviously surprised by her presence. “I’m just a doctor. Don’t shoot.”
A laugh bubbled out of Grace, taking her unaware. He must by the doctor Aaron mentioned. “I’m unarmed. You’re safe.” She entered the medium-sized room, surprised to find it had already been broom swept, two new physical therapy tables lining the back wall, adjacent to a small supply closet. She could see the shelves, bottles, and bandages unpacked and placed in sections. “It looks like you have it covered down here.” She started to back down the steps. “I’ll just—”
“No,” the doctor interrupted, pink dotting his cheeks. “I’d love some company, actually.” He dropped a packet of gauze to reach out a hand. “I’m John.”
“Grace,” she said, shaking his hand, marveling over the everyday gesture. There hadn’t been many situations she could recall of late that required hand shaking. It was nice. Like the symbol of a clean slate. “What can I help with?”