Crossing lines (Noah and Aiden) novel Chapter 166

Chapter 166

Aiden

Hospitals had never been a place I felt comfortable in. The last time I stepped into one was the day everything in my life shattered. The injury I suffered, the endless surgeries, the somber faces of doctors and nurses hovering around me like vultures circling their prey—the grief, the pain—it was all etched deeply into my memory. And then there was my brother’s story, the silent accusations from everyone around me, but most painfully from within myself. The crushing guilt. The burning anger. The harsh truth that two lives had been lost that day, not just mine.

Since then, I had avoided hospitals at all costs. The PTSD was relentless. The moment I entered those sterile hallways—the faint antiseptic smell, the constant clatter of carts rolling by, the muffled sobs behind curtains—I was instantly transported back to that dark, dangerous place. But this time, it wasn’t about me. It was about him. About Noah.

Seeing his sister lying there in that hospital bed—so pale, so fragile, flinching at every little sound of her brother’s concern—only reinforced what I already suspected. If the doctors and social workers couldn’t see the truth staring them in the face, then they were utterly blind.

And then I caught sight of him. James Blake. The moment I saw him, everything suddenly fell into place.

Noah’s constant need for safety, for reassurance, for guidance and praise—it all stemmed from what he’d never had but desperately craved. His cocky attitude, his fearless front, his defiant stance—they were nothing but a carefully constructed armor. A mask to hide the deep pain and fear that had dominated his life for so long.

James Blake carried himself like a smooth operator, all charm and easy smiles, but I wasn’t fooled. The little signs gave him away—the way his smile never quite reached his eyes, the sharp edge in his voice when Noah questioned him, the subtle tightening of his jaw every time Emily whimpered. It was quiet intimidation. A calculated effort to maintain control. This was a man who ruled his household through fear.

And he knew me. Not by name or reputation, but by instinct.

The moment I introduced myself, he sized me up. It takes a liar to recognize another. James Blake understood what I meant to Noah—maybe not the full story, maybe not the labels—but he saw it in how I positioned myself between them, in the way Noah looked at me as if I were the only air left in his lungs. James might have kept up a polite front, but his eyes told the real story: I see you. I know what you are. And I’m going to be a problem for you.

He nodded, swallowed hard, then whispered, “I want to talk to my mom. Maybe find a way out for them. Something to free them from his trap.”

That hit me like a punch to the chest. I reached across the table and took his hand, squeezing it firmly to remind him I was here, that he wasn’t alone. “That’s brave as hell. And I’m proud of you. No matter what happens, we’ll figure it out. Together.”

After lunch, I made the call. “I’m going to head to the hotel,” I told him. “Give you some time with them.”

The hospital buzzed quietly around us, but in that moment, our small corner felt like the only place that mattered.