Indelible by Kristen Heitzmann

With a quick, stricken glance at Aaron, she shot past Paige to the hall, her legs moving with involuntary volition.
    Trevor caught her arm and turned her around the other way. They moved in silence to the elevator and down. Eyes closed, she felt the cab land. He walked her to the Lexus.
    “Are you all right?”
    “I can’t see.”
    He turned her toward him. How could she explain that images of Cody’s fear and confusion, Aaron’s despair, overlapped by Paige’s rage and hatred all but blocked what was right in front of her?
    “Do you need your studio?”
    She nodded. In the passenger seat, she held her hands over her face as the miles passed. It didn’t hide the images behind her eyelids, but kept her from trying to see like a normal person. “I’m sorry.”
    “Hey.” He squeezed her knee. “I shouldn’t have forced it.”
    “You didn’t force anything.”
    “I could have told you what it was.”
    “I’d have chosen to go. You saved me the angst of worrying the whole way.” She looked, and his face came over the others, surprisingly dulling Paige just a little. “Now I know Aaron doesn’t blame me. He’s trying to hold his family together. And I got to hug Cody.”
    “He seemed fine until his mom arrived.”
    “Paige has nothing to help her through this. No faith, no fortitude. She’s never fought for anything in her life. I don’t know if she can.”
    “So everyone gives in?”
    “That’s her baby in the bed, her husband in a cast. If she doesn’t want my comfort, who am I to force it?”
    He rested his wrist on the wheel and said nothing. He didn’t know what a strain she had put on her own family with her limitations. Aaron loved her, she didn’t doubt that now, but he had spent enough years helping her. He had to set his priorities, and he’d done it right.
    “I’m sorry we had to rush back,” she said as they entered the studio.
    “That’s all right.” He sounded sincere. If anyone understood duress, it was this man.
    “You can go now. I’ll be fine.”
    “I’m not really comfortable with that.”
    “Why not?”
    “You were wandering like a punch-drunk fighter.”
    Great image for him to have of her. “I’m here now. I just need to work it out.”
    “If it’s all right with you, I’ll camp on that stool until I know you can see.”
    He sat with his forearms resting on his thighs, his posture pensive, while she worked. The clay felt like mud in her hands. Too wet. Too soft. It wouldn’t hold the shape. She worked it so long and hard her arms ached by the time the clay stiffened enough to model.
    A great surge of love and sorrow flooded her as she shaped Paige’s misery. Next she formed Aaron, his loyalty torn between them. She didn’t want that. He needed to be whole. And finally Cody, who would receive a “wobot” arm. She molded the precious features just as she had braced his soft, warm face and kissed the curve of his head.
    Finished, she staggered back, arms and heart aching, into Trevor. She felt wrung out—and hated that he saw. Now he wouldn’t believe she could handle anything.
    He steadied her. “Mind if I look?”
    She sagged. “You saw the real thing.”
    He let go and studied her sculpture. “You were kinder than I’d have been. Especially on Aaron. He should have stood up for you.”
    “I know it seems that way, but you’re not married, Trevor. Aaron’s heart is in the right place.”
    He turned. “Can you see me?”
    “Yes.”
    “Then can we get some food? I’m starved.”
    She swallowed the tightening in her throat. “You’re not getting out of here as fast as you can?”
    “I played that scene—not a great performance. The Summit’s open, but Jaz hangs out there. The other spots stop serving at nine.”
    “Take me home and I’ll make us something.”
    He scratched the back of his neck. “Some date, huh?”
    “I’m not much of a dater.”
    “I’m usually a rock star.”
    She laughed. “Well, I’ve thought Titan and hero and