Chapter Seventeen

"Looks like you have company."

Savannah peered at Tessa through half-closed lids. Her friend was looking at the patio doors, her brows slightly raised, her mouth curled in amusement. Savannah looked over then blinked in surprise. Isabelle was standing by the door, her face pressed against the glass as she peeked inside. Aaron stood behind her, one large hand on his daughter's shoulder.

"Should I let them in?"

Savannah tightened the blanket around her shoulders and shot Tessa a disbelieving look. "Is there a reason you wouldn't?"

"God, you're grumpy when you're sick. Anyone ever tell you that?" Tessa made her way over to the door, opening it for the unexpected visitors. Isabelle bounded inside, a large container in her hands. She zoomed right past Tessa, ignoring the other woman as she moved straight to Savannah. She stopped in front of her, a bright smile on her face, and held the container out like some kind of offering.

"Miss Savannah, we brought soup! Grammy said it'll make you feel better."

Savannah looked at the container, then up at Isabelle. "Oh. That's, um, that's very nice. Thank you." Her gaze darted to Aaron, her brow raised in silent question.

He shifted, ran a hand through his dark hair, then shrugged. One corner of his mouth tilted in a tentative smile. "The girls told her you were sick so she made some soup. Chicken noodle. Isabelle wanted to bring it over."

Savannah doubted the girls said any such thing—especially not Brooke. And how had they found out anyway? They hadn't been home Friday night. As far as she knew they weren't home all day yesterday, either, since Aaron had a game…somewhere.

Which meant Aaron must have said something to his mother. The thought that he had been talking about her with his mother left her feeling…odd. Vaguely unsettled but surprisingly giddy.

Which made no sense at all, and only proved her brain was still fried from the fever and chills. Yes, she was feeling better now, just drained and tired, but her brain obviously hadn't recovered yet.

"That's—" She stopped, cleared her throat, started over again. "That's very sweet. Thank you." She reached out to take the container from Isabelle then looked around, wondering what she was supposed to do with it now.

The kitchen. She should probably take it into the kitchen. She uncurled her legs from beneath her, kicking the blanket away so she wouldn't trip and fall. Tessa muttered something then came over, rescuing the container from her hands.

"I'll take it. Sit back down before you fall down."

"Still feeling bad?"

Savannah glanced over at Aaron, saw the concern flash in his eyes as he moved toward her. His gaze darted to Isabelle. He stopped, jammed his hands into the front pocket of the sweatshirt, and rocked back on his heels.

Like he was afraid to come any closer to her. It couldn't be because she was sick—he'd been with her Friday afternoon, until the early hours of Saturday when he had to leave. Holding her. Taking care of her. Helping her shower and change when the fever finally broke and sweat had soaked her clothes.

No, he hadn't been afraid to come near her then. So why the hesitation now?

She didn't have to ask, she knew why: because of Isabelle.

Savannah swallowed against the hot pain scalding her throat and forced a smile to her face when Isabelle climbed onto the sofa next to her. The girl kneeled beside her, an expression of seriousness on her face as she reached out and placed her hand against Savannah's forehead. She started to jerk back in surprise, stopped herself at the last minute, afraid of hurting the girl's feelings.

"Isabelle, don't bother Miss Savannah."

"But Daddy, I think she feels warm. Come check."

Savannah would have laughed at the expression on Aaron's face—if it hadn't hurt so much.

Surprise. Indecision.

Guilt.

It was the guilt that hurt, more than she expected. Pain sliced through her, sharp enough that she gasped, the sound nothing more than a breathy hiss. Was he so ashamed of being with her, so embarrassed at what they'd done, that he couldn't even come near her in front of his daughter? That he wouldn't even touch her in the most casual way?

Savannah ripped her gaze from Aaron's, afraid he would see how much his actions hurt, see how badly his guilt had sliced through her. She forced a smile to her face, one that felt brittle and cold, and leaned away from Isabelle.

"It's okay. I'm fine. Just warm from the blanket." Except she wasn't warm—she was chilled, straight to the bone. Straight to her heart. She grabbed the blanket and tugged it over her shoulders, holding it tight in front of her.

Like some kind of inadequate shield that could protect her from the unspoken words in Aaron's sad eyes.

Isabelle was oblivious to the stifling tension suddenly blanketing the room. She bounced on her knees then finally sat back, that innocent smile still on her face. "Did you want to go trick-or-treating with us Tuesday night? Daddy said he'd dress up, too. And Grammy's coming over to hand out candy while we're gone and then we're going to come home and watch a scary movie."

"I don't think Miss Savannah wants to go trick-or-treating with us, Sweet Pea."

"But it'll be fun!"

Aaron's gaze darted to hers, his dark eyes filled with a confusing mix of yearning and indecision that left her mind spinning. Did he want her to go, or not? Was there a silent message there that she wasn't seeing?

What did he want from her? She couldn't read whatever was in his eyes, couldn't shake the feeling that the man in front of her had no idea what he wanted himself—

And no idea how to go about getting it.

In the end, it was Tessa who saved her from answering, saved her from making a fool of herself by accepting an invitation that hadn't even been issued. She moved into the living room, her shoulder braced against the doorframe, her arms crossed in front of her.

"Actually, we have a party Tuesday night." Her voice was clipped, her eyes cool and distant as she stared at Aaron. Did he notice? Did he sense Tessa's sudden hostility and understand the reason for it?

Maybe. Maybe not.

He darted another glance at Savannah, his weight moving from one foot to the other. "Come on Isabelle, time to leave."

"But—"

"No buts. I have to get ready to head to the arena. And Miss Savannah needs her rest."

Isabelle's shoulders slumped with her deep sigh. Then she jumped off the sofa and hurried over to the door, Aaron following more slowly. "Feel better, Miss Savannah."

"I will."

Isabelle skipped across the patio, disappearing from view. Aaron still stood there, one large hand wrapped around the edge of the open door, uncertainty in his gaze.

"If you, um, change your mind about Tuesday night, let me know. You're more than welcome to join us."

"She won't." Tessa's voice was clear, maybe a little too loud, the words sharp and precise. If Aaron noticed, he gave no indication.

"I hope you're feeling better. If you, um, if you need anything—"

"I'm fine." Savannah forced the words from her throat, worried at what might come out of Tessa's mouth next. "Tell your mom I said thanks for the soup."

Aaron hesitated for another second then finally nodded and stepped onto the patio, pulling the door closed behind him with a sharp click.

A full five seconds went by before Tessa stormed across the room and dropped into the chair with a growl. "I take back everything nice I said about him. That man is an ass."

"Tessa, he's not—"

"Yes. He is. What is his problem? The way he just stood there, looking like he'd been caught red-handed? I mean, God! How could he just stand there like that? Like he'd rather cut open his femoral artery and go shark diving instead of touching you!"

"He doesn't want his kids to know anything's going on."

"Yeah? Then what about the mixed messages? What the hell is up with that? One second, he's afraid to touch your forehead. The next, he's staring at you like he wants you to pounce on his daughter's invitation to go trick-or-treating. Or like he wants to pounce on you. I don't get it."

"He's just—he's worried about his kids. I understand it." That was the worst part: she really did understand.

"Why are you defending him?"

"Because I understand."

"Well, I don't."

"That's because you didn't get bounced from one parent to the other when you were growing up. You don't know what it's like, being that young and thinking your parents cared more about their personal life than they did you. I do. So yeah, I understand. He's putting his kids first. There's nothing wrong with that." But God, she wished things could be different.

"That doesn't excuse his mixed messages. He can't have it both ways."

Savannah forced a smile to her face, trying to act like it didn't bother her. But she couldn't quite meet Tessa's knowing gaze when she spoke. "It's not a big deal. I knew what I was getting into. It's just sex. That's all."

"No, it's not. I saw the expression on your face, Van. I saw how much you hurt."

"Then you were seeing things."

"Liar."

Savannah didn't say anything. She couldn't, not when she knew Tessa would see right through any denial she uttered.