The Rebel's Return (Red River)

by Victoria James

  His father gave a snort and an almost smile. “Relax.”

  “So what’s the book?”

  His father snatched it and then threw it at him. Drama. He looked down and realized it was a family photo album. Hell. He hadn’t seen that in years. Dylan had often taken it out when they were young. When they were little, his older brother would point out the different people in the album. He knew Dylan had always looked at it to see their mother. He’d never felt much, not remembering her. Apparently he had stopped talking for a year after their mother’s death, and his father had been worried he’d never talk again. He had no memory of that.

  “So, aren’t you going to open it?”

  He shrugged and stood up. He didn’t feel like taking a trip down a screwed-up memory lane with his father. “Nah. I think I’ll go up to bed.”

  “You have the same smile as her, you know.”

  He didn’t move, and the look in his father’s eyes made a pang of something go through his stomach. He sat back down. “Yeah. Dylan told me that.”

  “Except hers was sweeter. Yours is more troublemaker.”

  He tried to laugh.

  “She sang to you every night.”

  He sighed roughly and leaned forward, his forearms on his thighs. “Dad, what are you doing?”

  “I’m telling you about your mother.”

  “Why? Why now? You could have spoken about her when I was a kid, then maybe I would have remembered her.” He cringed at the anger in his voice, pissed at himself that he’d let that last line escape, because it gave away one of his vulnerabilities.

  Dammit if his father’s eyes didn’t get a sheen in them. “I know. Give me the book.”

  Oh God, he wasn’t prepared for this stuff. He couldn’t deal. Not with a man he was so sure he didn’t like and didn’t have redeeming qualities. It was much simpler to think of his father as closed-off and detached. A man who had tears in his eyes and looked defeated, sitting in a battered chair and going through radiation, didn’t seem like the same man who had raised them. He slowly passed the book to his father and waited.

  He flipped a couple pages and then slid the book across the coffee table, pointing to a picture. It was his mother, holding him and standing beside Santa Claus. Dylan was sitting on Santa’s lap, beaming, while he was in his mother’s arms wailing. It meant nothing to him. He didn’t know his brother like that—smiling. His brother had always been serious, he’d been the one to make sure Aiden was okay, to make sure they had food, that they had clothes. That picture of his brother was like looking at a different person. And their mom…he didn’t remember what she felt like. What it felt like to be held by a parent.

  “Christmas?” he said when his father didn’t offer an explanation.

  “Yup, at a fancy mall in Toronto. Your mom insisted we take you boys for the day to see the city all decked out for the holidays. Dylan had the time of his life. You, on the other hand, didn’t want to sit on Santa’s lap, so your mother had to hold you. You were so scared, you crapped yourself, and it leaked through your diapers.”

  He stared at his father for a moment, unable to speak right away. “That’s it? That’s the memory you decide to share with me after all these years? You’ve never spoken to me about Mom, and now you choose to tell me about the time I crapped myself on her?”

  His father frowned at him. “I wasn’t trying to insult you. Babies do that. Your mother didn’t care. She doted on you boys.”

  He didn’t say anything.

  His father grumbled something and then turned the album back in his direction, flipping through pages. Then he turned the book back to him and pointed to another picture. Aiden looked down hesitantly. This time, he was hit with the unfamiliar jolt of recognition. He sat still, not even daring to breathe, in case it pulled him from the flash of the memory. He must have been three. It must have been months or days or weeks from his mother’s death because he knew she’d died when he was three. He was standing in front of a Ferris wheel holding his mother’s hand. The look on his face… Jeezus, he felt the sting of tears as he moved his focus from himself to his mother. They did have the same smile. He looked at his hand, so small, in hers. He looked at the way her brown hair looked as though it was blowing in the wind along with her floral printed dress. He looked, and he felt. He felt something that completely consumed him, robbed him of breath, of thought. Like she was here. Or in him. Or in the picture. Hell. He didn’t know. Oh God, did he remember her?

  He shut the book abruptly and then covered his face.

  “That picture was right before you burst into tears because you were too scared to go on the Ferris wheel. Yup, you wailed like a little girl afraid of spiders.”

  Christ. “You bring up my most humiliating moments.”

  His father shrugged and then motioned for the book. Aiden didn’t pass it over. What the hell else was this man going to show him? In a way he was glad for his father’s stupid commentary because it allowed him not to think of what had just happened. He didn’t believe in much, but he’d felt something. Maybe if his mother was around or something, maybe he’d felt her… That was dumb. He stood abruptly. He needed to get the hell out of here.

  “Sit your ass back down while I show you pictures.”

  Aiden fell back onto the couch. “What the hell is with the nostalgia? You never showed us pictures when we were younger.”

  His father looked over at him, that damn sheen back in his eyes. “I know, because I was weak, and selfish. But you need to know. You need to know the kind of person your mother was. You need to know the kind of family she built. You need to know all this because if I die…”

  God. “You’re not dying. You’re going to honk that stupid horn in a few weeks when you’re all done radiation, and you’ll be fine. You’re being dramatic.”

  “If I die, I need to know that at least you’ll know what we did as a family.”

  He held his father’s stare for too long a moment and then settled back into the couch. “Okay. Show me the next one, but it had better not involve me crapping myself or humiliating myself.”

  “Fine. That might take a few minutes. Sit tight.”

  Chapter Nine

  The day of her date with Aiden, the sun shone with extra brightness, the air was filled with a special, breezy warmth, and the birds chirped as though she were in a Cinderella movie. It was almost as though the universe wanted her to get together with Aiden again.

  You’re an idiot, Natalia.

  What was she doing was making up all sorts of reasons and looking for signs that would tell her it was okay to trust him again?

  She zipped up her sweater and glanced down to make sure her running shoes were tied. She needed no accidents today. Jogging would be the perfect way to release some of the tension brewing inside her body. Things were going very well for week five. She was going to do this. Rolling her shoulders, she looked out to the empty path and took a deep breath. One earbud in and—she jumped when she felt her earbud pulled out. Aiden was there, blocking her view of the path. She had to admit he was a much better view.

  “Good morning. I was hoping I’d find you here. I’ll join you for your jog.”

  Oh God, no. “I like jogging on my own.”

  “No, you don’t.”

  “Yes. I do.”

  “Maybe, but you’re afraid you can’t keep up with me.”

  Dammit, of course that was the exact reason. She wasn’t admitting that, though. “You’re taller than me, so your strides will be longer. We aren’t good jogging partners. Go find someone taller. Evan Manning jogs on this trail every morning. Go find him.”

  “It’s Friday. He’s having breakfast with his brothers.”

  “Join them.”

  He winced. “I haven’t been back to John’s since I drove the car through their front window.”

  She rolled her eyes and tried not to feel sorry for him. “I’m sure he’s forgotten by now. He lets Jake in there.”

  “Jake wasn’t drivi
ng. Let’s go. Time to jog. I’ll go easy on you.”

  She took a deep breath. She could do this.

  Fifteen minutes later she was dying. She was frantically trying to find a way out of this. She was going to have to orchestrate some sort of accident. She would either have to fall into the river or pretend to fall on some uneven piece of pavement. Yes, it was the only way, she thought, half-delirious now as her lungs burned. She hated jogging. It always beat her. Damn. Jogging. She eyed the river again and then the man beside her who hadn’t even broken a sweat and barely looked winded. God.

  She was about to pitch herself onto the soft grass but she caught sight of her cousin, power walking her way toward them. Could this day get any worse?

  Her cousin must have spotted her at the same time because she gave what looked like a very snide wave—if a wave could actually be called snide.

  “Is that Francesca?” Aiden whispered to her. She could hear panic in his voice.

  “The one and only.”

  “Is she just as…uh, is she just like before?”

  “Worse,” she said, slowing her jog. So maybe that was the one good thing that came out of running into Francesca.

  “Aiden McCann, is that you?”

  She heard Aiden grunt under his breath, and they both stopped. Francesca was dressed in black leggings and a red sports bra, with matching red lips. “Yeah. Hi.”

  “Hello yourself,” she said, giving him some sort of waving pat that ran down his torso. Natalia could have sworn she saw him flinch. She hated that Francesca was seeing them together. She was going to have a field day with this one. She knew all about their relationship, everything he’d said to her, everything he’d done. “I never thought I’d see the two of you together again—and being civil, too.”

  Natalia didn’t say anything, because what was she supposed to say? She was standing beside the man who’d broken her heart.

  “Nat is an impossible woman to resist, and I had to beg her a few times to agree to go jogging with me.”

  Her cousin’s red mouth formed a surprised O. Her gaze darted between the two of them.

  “Well, that’s nice. I should probably keep up with my power walk. Have to make sure I fit into my wedding dress for next weekend!”

  “Oh, you’re getting married?”

  “What? Natty didn’t tell you? Your father didn’t tell you, either?”

  “Nope.”

  “He must have missed the local news segment on the upcoming wedding,” Natalia said under her breath. Francesca looked puzzled while Aiden chuckled beside her.

  “Yes, I’m marrying Franco Benito.”

  “Who?”

  She almost would have laughed at Aiden’s expression except she knew where this was going. Francesca thought the entire world knew who her rich fiancé was.

  “Yes, you remember Franco, don’t you? His parents own that chain of grocery stores. The Benito Bros.”

  Aiden gave her a deadpan expression. “No…I don’t think they have any of those in Toronto.”

  She shrugged. “Well, they’re very popular around the area. I thought his name would have rung a bell since he and Natty dated for a year after you left.”

  She was going to push her in the river. Natalia shrugged when Aiden looked at her.

  “We really need to get going now,” she said, clutching Aiden’s arm, distracted momentarily by the thick bicep under her fingers.

  “Who is Franco?”

  Natalia frowned. “He was insignificant.”

  “I wouldn’t say that. I mean, it was a tragic thing that happened, and I, for one, will never forgive myself, and I know Franco feels the same way. It was a crime of passion.” She sighed theatrically. Natalia also noticed how Francesca leaned over, purposely showing off her cleavage as she pretended to tie her shoelace.

  “What was the crime?”

  “Oh, that’s not my place to say,” she said with a fake pout.

  Natalia rolled her eyes. “See you later, Francesca.”

  She tugged on Aiden’s hand and marched in the opposite direction. Then she broke out into a run. She was suddenly filled with renewed energy.

  “So what the hell was that all about? Is it just my imagination, or is she even more irritating than before?”

  She smiled. Somehow Aiden had figured her cousin out for the two-faced person she was right away. Once they were well down the trail, Aiden slowed the run to a walk.

  “You couldn’t keep up, could you?” she said, holding her waist, trying not to look winded.

  He grinned. “No, I wanted to talk to you and knew you wouldn’t be able to run and carry on a conversation.”

  She let out a gasp of outrage and charged for him, not even bothering to think that would put her in bodily contact with him. Sure enough, her hands landed on his very well developed pecs and his arms wrapped around her waist. Oh God. Aiden, close up. His eyes were as blue as the clear fall sky, and she was forgetting why she needed to be careful. How often did a guy like this come into her life?

  “Why would you go out with one of the Bernini brothers?” he said in a raspy voice.

  She burst out laughing. “Benito.”

  “Same thing.”

  “I have really, really bad taste in guys,” she whispered and took a step back.

  He winced. She maintained eye contact, not able to look away from the emotion she saw in his. There was that…something again. Regret maybe. Affection, attraction for sure. But it was the other that gave her hope that maybe he deserved a second chance.

  She took another step away from him. “I, uh, should get going.”

  He gave her a nod. “See you tonight, Nat.”

  Chapter Ten

  “Omigod!” Natalia yelled at the reflection in her washroom mirror. She tore out of the washroom and ran into her bedroom where Sabrina was shuffling through her closet. Sabrina turned to her, eyes widening as she spotted the horror.

  “I have a dent in my hair!” she yelled, pointing at what Sabrina was already staring at. “I never should have taken your advice to curl it.”

  Sabrina approached her cautiously. “I didn’t actually say to curl it. I said to give it waves…not…what is this?” she whispered, picking up the offensive chunk right by Natalia’s forehead.

  “I don’t know,” she moaned. “I can’t get it out. And I don’t have time to wash it. He’ll be here in like ten minutes. This is all stupid Francesca’s fault for keeping me so long, blabbing about her perfect dress. Omigod, what am I going to do?”

  Her friend had the good grace not to remind her that minutes before, Natalia had been drilling into her that this was not a date, and it didn’t matter what she looked like, and blah, blah, blah because she was a total hypocrite. It mattered a whole hell of a lot.

  “Okay, stop panicking. I can fix this.”

  Natalia crossed her arms. “No one can fix this.”

  Sabrina yanked out a red cowl-neck cashmere sweater and thrust it at her. “Wear this. It’s perfect with the dark jeans you’re wearing. Put this on first, and then I’ll fix the dent.”

  With a skeptical stare, she did as she was told. A minute later, her friend was ushering her into the washroom and commanding her to sit on the edge of the tub. “Okay, all I need is five minutes, a brush, and some pins.”

  Natalia waved her hand at the mess on her countertop. “Everything is there.”

  “Good. Now close your eyes and trust me.”

  “This might be a good time for me to tell you about my theory.”

  Natalia felt the curling iron tighten around her hair. “Perfect timing. Just keep your eyes shut while you speak,” Sabrina said.

  “Sometimes I wonder if Aiden lied to me…about why he left…and the whole cheating thing.”

  She held her breath and waited for her friend to reply. She was dying to see the expression on Sabrina’s face but resisted.

  “Why do you think that?” Her voice was soft, cautiously optimistic.

  She didn’t h
ave much to go on. “I don’t know. It’s a gut feeling. He always changes the subject when I bring it up. Who knows, maybe it’s wishful thinking.”

  “You need to ask him, Nat,” she whispered.

  “But if I’m wrong, then I’m getting my hopes up all over again, and I’m worried it’ll open up an old wound I clearly have trouble getting over.”

  Sabrina sighed theatrically. “You’re right. Except your instincts about people are usually good.”

  “Oh, you mean except for the time I didn’t notice my cousin and boyfriend betrayed me?”

  She didn’t have to open her eyes to know that Sabrina was wincing. “Yes, besides that time.”

  She had to laugh. “Only you could say that while meaning the best for me.”

  Five minutes later, Natalia opened her eyes to see that her friend had indeed worked a miracle. She’d somehow worked the crazy curls into soft, natural looking waves, and had pinned back the offensive pieces at the front. “I owe you one. You have no idea.”

  Her friend gave her an odd smile. “Once this drama with Aiden is all over, I’ll collect.”

  “What does that mean?”

  The knock at the door caused them both to jump, and she made a mental note to find out what Sabrina was up to tomorrow. “Okay, you need to hide,” she whispered, shoving Sabrina into the hallway.

  “Why? Are we sixteen?”

  “No, but if Aiden knows you’re here, then he’ll assume that I think this date is a big deal and I needed my best friend here for makeup and hair and clothing advice.”

  “But…you did. And why’s that so bad?”

  Aiden knocked again, and she could feel sweat threatening. “Sabrina…”

  “You know, I’ve realized life is too short to play games with your feelings and—”

  “Omigod, stop. Hide in my bedroom,” she hissed. What was going on with her friend? Seriously, she chose now to impart her philosophy on feelings and…the third knock. Okay, deep breath and she yanked open the door and wanted to cry. Aiden was standing there, looking like every single memory she ever had of him and her future all wrapped up in an impossibly hot package. His dark hair looked slightly damp, definitely dishevelled. His jeans. Oh, his jeans. Nice enough that they weren’t ratty, but worn in the most delicious places, and clung to his lean hips and long legs. His leather jacket hugged his broad shoulders, and the varying shades of navy checks on his button-down shirt enhanced his eye color. And the fact that it was a button-down told her he’d cared enough to dress up.