Madison was so much like Chase that he had to really look at her. Chase pushed, Madison pried, and neither seemed to believe in boundaries. It should have bothered him. Why hadn’t Brittany told him about her discussion with his sister?
“We’re working it out,” he said. “She’s here with me, living here.” They’d work out where they went soon, once he got past some of the distance and feelings that were plaguing him now—unsettling him.
“That’s good. Working it out is always good, and talking is even better. Knocking down those walls that keep you from connecting and having a relationship is optimal.” She was starting to sound like a shrink, and he was wondering now whether crossing boundaries and sticking her nose into his business and relationships were going to continue. Maybe this was in his expression, as she made a face and then winced. “Sorry, I know I push sometimes, maybe cross a line. Just tell me if I do. Just wanted a happy ending for you.” She shrugged. “I’m a romantic. What can I say?”
“It’s fine,” he said, but was it? He pulled off his gloves as they both stood there. The silence in that second seemed awkward.
“So how is she doing, Brittany? I thought it was Mary.”
Of course she did. Everyone did. How to explain to anyone what she had been driven to? Mary was the scared survivor who hadn’t found her footing to be who she was. Brittany was his girl and the only one he’d ever loved, except something was different.
“She’s changed, she’s trying, and she’s good. Having her back, I guess, after coming back from the dead, so to speak, I didn’t realize how much both of us aren’t the same. We can’t go back.” He tapped the bag, wondering what was wrong with him for sharing. He didn’t share. He didn’t talk.
“Of course you’re not. Everyone changes. Good Lord, look at what you’ve both been through, you and her, and now finding yourselves and each other, this is really about you and Brittany finding common ground again, discovering who you both are now, not the adventuresome young kids who took off to travel and explore the world. The problem is that you didn’t change together, and now you’re meeting someone new even though you knew each other so well before. You may want to ask yourself, too, if you’re having these thoughts about her and how different she is, whether she’s having the same thoughts about you.”
He wondered whether his astonishment showed on his face. Where had all this wisdom come from? “You secretly go to shrink school and not share that little tidbit with me?”
She smiled, shaking her head. “No, sorry. That’s another of my tendencies that has gotten me into a world of trouble with some. I tend to extend advice and input into others’ business when not asked. Sorry about that. Didn’t mean to overstep. Just tell me if I am, and I’ll…” She hesitated, and he wondered what she was thinking.
“Stop?” he added for her, and this time she laughed a soft sweet laugh.
“Probably not.” She shrugged and then turned as a door slapped closed, and she stepped out of the barn, looking toward the house. She lifted her hand. “Hi, Brittany.”
Brittany appeared, holding a tall glass, the edge dripping. Her long hair was down, and she’d changed into a loose white tank and blue shorts, sandals on her feet. “Nice to see you again,” she said and seemed to hesitate. He noticed the tension, or maybe it was awkwardness. “Aaron, I thought you might be thirsty, so I’ve brought you some water.” She held up the glass, walking toward him. He could see the change in her.
“Thanks.” He took the glass and swallowed.
“Well, I should be going,” Madison said. “Glad to see you here, Brittany, with Aaron. Does my heart good.” She pressed her hands together and looked over to Aaron again. “Just stopped in to remind you of the party I planned for you.”
“Party? That sounds big. Thought it was just a potluck,” he said, noting the alarm on Brittany’s face.
Madison waved her hand. “Oh, it will be fun. Lots of folks around here want to meet you. It’s going to be at our place Saturday. The party is a potluck, and Beau and his friend Spencer are breaking out the grills and grilling up some pig. Hal and Freddy are bringing their fiddles and playing for us all. Homegrown talent, a lot of it. It will be fun—barbecuing, dancing, meeting the neighbors. Bring some lawn chairs. We’ll introduce you right proper to everyone around these parts and welcome you to the community.”
Again he took in Brittany, who appeared confused. “Madison said she wanted to have something to introduce me to the community of folks here,” Aaron said. “Didn’t think it would be so extravagant.”
“It’ll be fine,” Madison said. “Just a couple hundred at most, give or take. Ice cold beer and good times with good people. Starts at two.”
Brittany was still looking at him. Something was wrong. He didn’t know what it was, and he waited until after Madison said goodbye and had left before asking, “Mind telling me why you haven’t told me my sister stopped in to talk with you and she’s the reason you’re here now?”
24
He was moody. No, that was an understatement. He had shut down and wasn’t talking since asking her about her visit with Madison at the motel. What could she say? She had planned on telling him at the time, only it had seemed irrelevant in Nashville.
He walked into the kitchen, having showered and changed into clean shorts hanging low on his hips. He was shirtless, his chest ripped and tanned, his hair damp, and his gaze swept over her as she chopped celery at the center island. He pulled open the fridge and pulled out a jug of orange juice, unscrewed the top, and drank. She should have handed him a glass but thought better of it as he downed half before sticking it back in the fridge. The quiet was unnerving.
She rested the knife on the cutting block and took him in as he closed the fridge door.
“Would you like to talk, or would you like to keep giving me the silent treatment?” he said. This wasn’t the same Aaron, young and thoughtful and strong, who always had her back. This Aaron had something that seemed to be just out of reach. Or maybe it was her. She wiped her face to quiet her head. “What’s wrong?” He touched her wrist and moved to lean against the counter. He was so close, and he smelled so good—amazing, really. “Hmm, Brittany?” he asked, and his eyes were so intense as she looked up to him. He cared.
She let her fingers run down his arm as his hand traced over her cheek.
“You’ve said not two words to me since your sister was here,” she said. “You’re quieter now.”
“I asked you, and you didn’t answer. I have to wonder if you didn’t plan on telling me my sister is the reason you’re here.” He pulled his hand away, crossed his arms over his chest, and looked down at her. The intensity was getting under her skin and peeling away at things she hadn’t realized were so sensitive.
“Aaron, what was the point? Yes, I planned on it, but going to Nashville was me reaching out to you, taking a chance. When would you have liked to have a conversation about your sister—before you screwed me in the shower or in bed, lying skin to skin, naked, before you could make love to me again? Seriously, the only talk I wanted to have then was between you and me. I didn’t want to bring your sister into the bedroom.”
Then there was eating breakfast and driving to the airport, flying home and the few hours in his truck as they rode in silence. She was telling half truths, and maybe that was why she felt so uncomfortable.
“There was time, Brittany. You could have said something.” He was holding himself tighter.
“Fine, you’re right, I could have, but I honestly didn’t think it was relevant at the time. Yes, your sister showing up there and…” She slid her hand over the knife resting on the cutting block and squeezed the handle before letting it go. “She was the first person who understood something of what I was feeling. Some of the things she said to me helped me find the courage I needed to want to be happy. I knew I was hiding, scared, and had stopped living. I just hadn’t realized until she pointed it out that I’d allowed my dad and sister to get in my head. I feel res
ponsible for my mom dying. I know it’s not my fault, but my dad said it, and it’s there still. Being so down and out, it was easier to let my sister arrange me, tell me what to do.”
She didn’t miss the way his face darkened, and she knew he and her dad could seriously get into some major shit if she didn’t get him to understand.
“That is such bullshit, Brittany. I can’t believe what your sister and dad have done. I hate them, and as far as I’m concerned, they’re out of our lives.” He cut his hand in the air, so final, so difficult. This was also not the Aaron she knew.
“Hey, now, wait a second. I agree what they did isn’t okay, but they’re still my family, Aaron. I have some things to say to them, and I will. The first is that they were wrong to let me believe you’d moved on—no, correction. My dad said it as if it were gospel.”
“They lied through their teeth,” he said. “Don’t make it sound so innocent. They drove a wedge between us. What they did had nothing to do with caring about you.” He forced his words over her, dark and moody. She sensed her family could and would always be a sore spot between them, and she hadn’t figured out how to reconcile how she felt about them with all they had done.
“They’re still my family, Aaron,” she said again. “I know they were wrong. We’ve settled that. I agree, and I’m here with you, but I’m not willing to write them off. That would be cruel, and you saying that to me isn’t that different from what they did, so stop, and let’s just agree that they were wrong. Be the bigger person, Aaron.” She tapped his chest and splayed her fingers over it, and he stayed where he was. She had to remind herself in that moment that he was in fact hers, in a manner of speaking, but she felt something lost that had connected them before.
He settled his hand over hers, and there was everything in his eyes. The way he looked at her said more than words ever could.
“I need for you to let it go, please…” she said. Dealing with them would take everything in her. She was unable to shake the feeling that she was stuck in the middle with everyone’s hooks in her, yanking at her and stretching her like taffy, but she couldn’t tell Aaron, not right now. He wouldn’t get it.
“No, I can’t, because you don’t do that to someone you love. Telling you I’ve fucked off and moved on as if you meant nothing, that was shit. You know it, I know it. No fucking way, Brittany. I intend to tell them just that. This isn’t the kind of thing you let slide. I won’t let it slide. Forgiveness…” He was shaking his head, and all she saw was how pissed off and unreasonable he was. “No fucking way,” he said and stepped away, putting his hands in the air. She sensed his power, his edge, and the slippery point they were at.
She heard the ding of her cell phone, knowing who it was and seeing Aaron look to the counter, where it was plugged in and charging as if it were a viper ready to strike. She didn’t turn to answer it but watched as Aaron walked over and reached for it. Brittany picked up the knife, finished chopping the celery, and said, “Leave it be, Aaron. Grab the chicken defrosting in the fridge, and let’s get dinner on.”
She heard him drop the phone and move back into her space, leaning on the counter and looking down at her. His face was so close that she could easily have leaned up and kissed him.
“Susan…” was all he said, and she nodded and gestured to the fridge with the knife.
“She’ll keep,” she said. “Dinner, you and me. Chicken, please.” This time, when she looked up to him, taking in something in his expression that she wasn’t sure of, she put the knife down, wiped her hands together, and slipped her hand over his cheek, running her thumb over his mouth, taking in the full pink lips she loved feeling on her, tasting her, completing her. “You and me first, okay?” she said. She needed him to get it, to be on board with her and not make this any harder.
He leaned in first and kissed her, pulling her to him, lifting her so her curves felt every hard part of him. He didn’t simply kiss her and put her down; he swept everything off the counter, and the cutting board, knife, and bowl hit the floor with a clatter as he rested her there. He was between her legs, kissing her hard and fast, his tongue touching hers as he laid her back. His hand worked the waistband of her shorts, and he yanked them down and pulled them away.
She spread her legs as he stepped in, freeing himself from his loose shorts, sliding his hand up the inside of her thigh. At the same time, she felt him pressing into her, pulling her closer to the edge. Her voice squeaked as he stared at her. She knew he was watching her reaction to him as he moved inside her, slow and deep, holding her, taking her, so primal, cutting through all the bullshit. He was claiming her, making her his. She knew that by his expression as he hovered over her, slamming into her faster to the point of a good old-fashioned shagging, and she loved it. Good God, she wanted it.
“Aaron…” That was all she could get out as she felt herself dangling on the edge of exploding, of needing to scream his name, cry out, anything, and he let her know with every thrust and movement before he stilled and swore loudly, spilling his seed inside her, that she was his.
25
She was outside in the dirt, pacing in front of the boat he’d fixed, which was sitting on the shore in front of the pond he’d yet to spend any time on. Maybe he’d take her out after the sun went down, in the moonlight. That would be romantic. Girls liked that kind of thing, but having her there alone with him on the water was probably about his worst idea yet. Even though the pond was a far cry from the massive unpredictability of the ocean, water had altered his life and had him living in years of heartache and misery.
Her cell phone was pressed to her ear, and he could see she was bothered—no, upset by whatever her sister was saying to her, a sister who, as he’d learned, had propagated the lie that kept him from knowing Brittany was alive. It was cruel, and he wished Susan and her father would find a special place in hell. Instead of forgiving them, he found himself enraged, and this feeling of resentment was building into something blinding.
He pulled his hand across his face as he realized she wasn’t on the phone anymore but had her back to the house, holding herself tight, staring out at the pond. He pushed the door open and stepping out barefoot, the stair creaking, and she turned to stare up at him. He noticed the hurt embedded in her expression that hadn’t been there before. Her face was no longer pink from the quick shagging in the kitchen. It had been fast and hurried and so satisfying for him, but it had left a huge mess on the floor that he’d had to clean up. Dinner was now two steaks he’d pulled from the freezer. He’d grill them up with whatever salad he could throw together.
She was doing it again, holding herself tight, her arms crossed, clutching that damn phone that was a link to another life and people he hated. Maybe that was why he stared at it with such disgust.
“You don’t have to say it, Aaron,” she said. “It’s written all over your face. Do you want me to say you’re right? Is that what you want?” She sounded angry with him, and that made no sense.
“Don’t make me into the villain, here. What did Susan want?” He sensed she’d hold back, as she said nothing for a moment, looking away as if thinking about what to say. He hated that, too, so he walked around her toward the barn, his one refuge.
“Aaron,” she called out so softly, and he stopped but didn’t turn around.
“It only works one way, here, Britt. It’s us or them.” He took a step and faced her, seeing the hurt again.
“It’s not a choice, Aaron.”
“It is when you won’t share, when you keep a part of yourself hidden. I asked you what she wanted. You think I couldn’t see how upset you were on the phone? You know what? Don’t say anything. I’m pretty sure she was beating you down pretty hard, driving the guilt a little deeper into you, telling you to get on a plane and leave me, leave here and go to backwoods California and let her keep running your life, stuffed in a tiny room behind her house. Tell me that’s not what she said. Tell me that’s not what you’re considering.”
She l
ooked over to him sharply, and he could see he had struck some passion into her, some fight. That was what he did with everyone. “Hey, wait a second,” she said. “That’s not fair for you to tell me what I’m thinking, or do you think so little of me that you believe I’d just up and leave? You think someone has that kind of power over me to tell me what to think, and I can be manipulated so easily?” She held up the flat of her hand with a punch. “I did once because I was broken, but don’t make the mistake of thinking I’m still that way. For your information, I told her that and that she and my dad were wrong for lying to me the way they did. Yes, she tried to justify it with the fact that you didn’t stay and keep looking, even though you went way past what any reasonable person would have. How could you have known? They blamed you, but I told her she was wrong, they were wrong.” She said nothing else, and he felt like crap.
“I’m sorry,” he said, sensing that she was holding back something else, as she crossed her arms again as if trying to protect herself from falling into a giant hole.
“They want to see me,” she said and glanced away again.
He took a step toward her until he was right in front of her and she was looking up at him.
“Listen, you want me to cut them out of my life,” she said. “They want the same of you. I say no, enough, both of you. You have a right to be angry, but I’m not willing to be there with you. I want to be happy and unafraid. I want to live, and being angry, holding grudges, isn’t living. Just so you know, I told Susan I’m going back there to pack up my things and have them shipped back here.” She was shaking her head, and he was seeing now something of the stubbornness that had been in the Brittany he’d thought was gone for good.
“They’ll gang up on you, both your dad and sister. This won’t be the last of it, and they’re not going to just roll over and say, ‘Have a great life. Glad you’re happy.’”
Don't Run From Me Page 10
