Page 62 of Total Creative Control

“He did,” Aaron agreed, shooting her a grateful look. “I told him he should rest, but you know how he is...”

The fact that Lewis didn’t object to the lie only supported Aaron’s instincts. Firmly, he took Lewis’s arm and encouraged him to his feet. “Come on,” he murmured. “Let’s go upstairs.”

Lewis nodded, swaying as he rose, but keeping his eyes fixed on the floor, for which Aaron was grateful because otherwise he might have noticed Charlie’s sharkish smile. A smile that Aaron—who was not a violent man—wanted to punch right off his stupid face.

Keeping a firm hold of Lewis, Aaron guided him away from the table. “Please, carry on,” he told the others, with as much politeness as he could muster. “I’ll make sure Lewis is okay.”

One of the servers obligingly opened the dining room door for them, and Aaron nodded his thanks. Behind him, he heard Charlie say, “Let’s open another bottle…”

And then the door shut, and they were alone in the corridor.

“Fuck,” Lewis said roughly, sagging against the wall. “Jesus…”

Aaron gave him a few moments to gather himself before he gently touched his elbow. “Let’s go upstairs,” he said. “You need to eat some proper food.”

Lewis only nodded, silent as he trudged along the corridor and up the stairs. Aaron walked at his side, watching him worriedly. He hated seeing Lewis like this; it churned him up inside.

When they finally reached Lewis’s room, Aaron hesitated. He didn’t want to intrude, but he also didn’t want to leave Lewis alone in this state. Luckily, Lewis left his door wide open when he walked inside, and Aaron took that as an invitation to follow.

So he followed.

Unlike his own room, Lewis’s was something of a mess. The rumpled bed was strewn with clothes. Papers—an unbound script—lay scattered on the sofa by the window along with his laptop and an empty pot noodle cup, a plastic fork sticking out of it.

Aaron took everything in with one glance, his attention mostly on Lewis who sank onto the end of the bed and dropped his face into his hands. “Fucking hell,” he said through his fingers.

Aaron’s heart ached to see him so defeated and low. Little Boy Lost, he thought, throat tightening. “You should eat something,” Aaron said. “I’ve got some stuff in my room. Hang on, I’ll be back in a mo.”

Lewis didn’t react, just sat there with his hands over his face, elbows on knees.

If he could have, Aaron would have walked right over there and given him a hug. He knew—it was obvious—that Lewis needed comfort. And it killed him not to be able to offer it. He wondered if there was anyone else Lewis would turn to for that. Owen maybe?

As Aaron hurried back to his room, he considered calling Owen. But although the brothers were close, Aaron had a nagging feeling that Lewis wouldn’t want Owen to see him so upset. Aaron certainly couldn’t call him without asking Lewis first.

Opening the dresser in his room, he fished out the bag of emergency food he’d bought that afternoon. After Lewis had dismissed him, he’d gone out to walk off the overwhelming feelings the morning had stirred up—to try and reason his way back into the role of efficient PA instead of… Of whatever role he’d been in last night, in Swanage. And then this morning, during the workshop. A far more intimate role than he’d ever bargained for.

The walk hadn’t really helped, and he’d returned as unsettled as ever, but hehadstumbled on a small petrol station in the middle of nowhere, which he’d grimly raided for rations. After the fasting fiasco, he’d wanted to be self-sufficient when it came to food.

He was bloody glad he’d stocked up now.

Carrier bag in hand, he left his room and returned to find Lewis exactly where he’d left him.

Quietly, Aaron closed the door. He wasn’t sure how to help, where the boundaries were between them, but looking at the dishevelled mess in the room, he decided that he could at least tidy up. Lewis liked things neat and orderly, despite his personal propensity for chaos. It was one of the man’s many idiosyncrasies. So, while Lewis silently struggled with his inner turmoil, Aaron did what he could to bring some external order.

Maybe it worked because, after a few minutes of silent tidying, Lewis got to his feet and disappeared into the bathroom.

Aaron bit his lip, staring at the closed door as he listened to the toilet flush, the tap run, and the sound of water splashing in the sink. His X-Ray vision failing, he tore his eyes away from the door and got on with straightening the bedclothes and laying out his impromptu feast on the covers. It consisted of two giant sausage rolls, a limp cheese-and-tomato sandwich, two grab bags of salt-and-vinegar crisps, and a family-sized bar of milk chocolate.

No doubt Charlie would have regarded such an offering in horror, but when Lewis emerged from the bathroom and saw what Aaron had set out, his lips turned up slightly. While it didn’t do much to ease the haunted expression in his eyes, just that small sign of pleasure sent Aaron’s heart soaring.

“Where did you get all this?” Lewis said. His voice sounded scratchy, and his hair was damp at the temples and forehead. He must have been splashing water on his face.

It hadn’t done much to soothe the redness around his eyes.

“Found a garage when I went out for a walk earlier,” Aaron said, fetching two bottles of cold water from the mini-fridge and climbing up to sit cross-legged on the bed. “Come on, let’s eat. I’m starving.”

Lewis regarded him for a moment, then toed off his shoes and joined Aaron on the bed, sitting opposite him.

Silently, Aaron handed him half the sandwich, watching Lewis pick out the soggy tomato and replace it with a handful of crisps before biting into it and giving a low groan. Eyes closed, Lewis chewed slowly, and Aaron could see some of the tension easing from his face.