by Brenda Novak
“You must be Dylan,” Anya cried, picking him out immediately. “I recognize you from the picture your father showed me.”
Aaron wanted to ask what picture. They certainly hadn’t sent J.T. anything recent. But he had no idea what Grady, Rod or Mack had provided. They were a lot closer to J.T.
Dylan nodded and suffered through an enthusiastic embrace before managing to extricate himself and introduce Cheyenne, who was staring at her stepmother-in-law in stunned disbelief.
“My God, you’re gorgeous!” Anya grabbed Cheyenne next. “Look at you.”
Her too-loud voice caused several other diners to glance over, but she didn’t seem to notice. Or maybe she didn’t care. Cheyenne didn’t even get a chance to respond before Anya turned to Aaron. “And you! Tell me your name. No, wait. Are you Aaron? You are, aren’t you?”
“I am.” He saw that her daughter had propped her chin on one fist and was sunk in on herself, as if she wished she could shrink into oblivion.
“So you’re the one I’ve been talking to for the past two weeks,” Anya said. “I hear you’re a bit of a troublemaker. Your father has so many funny stories about you, like that one where you jumped off the roof because you thought you could fly and nearly broke your back.”
Aaron was glad he had Wyatt in his arms. That made it difficult for her to plaster herself against him as she had Dylan. She fussed over Wyatt next and then sized up Presley.
“I see you’ve met your match with this stunning creature. And you are?”
Presley cleared her throat as if she was suppressing laughter, but Aaron was too overwhelmed to find this funny. “Presley Christensen,” she replied.
“Named after the King. God, that’s rich. Aren’t you cute!” She nudged her daughter so hard, she knocked her chin off her hand. “Well, Natasha, if you had your eye on Aaron, you’re out of luck.”
“Mom!” The girl’s disgusted expression indicated that she understood how completely inappropriate that was, even if her mother did not.
“How old are you?” Presley asked, focusing on the girl.
Folding her arms, she leaned back in her chair. “Sixteen. I’m also sixteen years younger than my mother.” She smiled sweetly. “In case you were wondering.”
Aaron had been wondering. He’d guessed thirty-five. But Anya was a year younger than he was?
This situation just kept getting more bizarre. In all the letters they’d received from their father, and the calls they’d received from Anya, there’d never been any mention of her daughter, let alone a daughter who was still in high school.
At least...he hoped Natasha was in school. She seemed ready to flip off the whole world—a sentiment he could identify with from his own angry years but one that didn’t produce the best results. So maybe she’d dropped out. If not for Dylan, he probably would have.
Aaron quickly introduced Rod, Grady and Mack so she couldn’t regale them with stories about each one of them. Then they took their seats, ordered and ate. The conversation was stilted; none of them had much to say. But Anya kept it going, babbling on and on about how much their father had changed, and how he looked as young as they did. It wasn’t until Dylan had paid the check—she didn’t even attempt to pay her way—that she got to the real reason she’d been so eager to meet them. Apparently, she was being evicted from her place in Los Banos, had no money to rent elsewhere and was hoping they could help her get a place in Whiskey Creek, so she’d be all moved in when J.T. returned.
Aaron almost started laughing when this came out. Finally, all her calls and effusive compliments made sense.
Fortunately, Dylan took the lead on their response. If Aaron had had to talk right then, he might’ve told her she was exactly what he’d been afraid she’d be—a parasite.
“How much do you need?” Dylan asked.
“Just a couple thousand,” she replied. “Your father told me to tell you he’ll pay you back as soon as he can. He’s worried about us.”
“My father said he’d pay us back?” Dylan asked.
Aaron knew what his brother was thinking—J.T. didn’t have a pot to piss in.
“We’re a bit down on our luck now, that’s all,” she said. “Once we get moved, I’ll find work, and we’ll be fine.”
If she could find work. Otherwise, what would happen? Would she expect them to continue taking care of her?
Aaron suspected she would.
“I’m sorry, I’m afraid we can’t help,” Dylan said, but Anya wasn’t willing to let it go at that. She’d gotten them all out here for a reason, and she wasn’t going home empty-handed.
“Look, if it was only for me, I wouldn’t ask,” she responded. “But I’ve got Natasha to think about. She needs a roof over her head, the poor girl. I mean...if you don’t have the cash to lend us, maybe we could move in with you guys. J.T. said there should be plenty of room. He said maybe she and I could take your old bedroom, since you moved out,” she told Dylan.
Natasha had remained silent throughout the meal. She’d ordered only a side salad and picked at it, and the way she flushed when her mother pleaded their case gave Aaron the impression she’d known this was coming and hated every word of it. She hadn’t been the least bit friendly, but she was the one he felt sorry for. She reminded him of Presley and Cheyenne when they were younger, completely at the mercy of an irresponsible mother.
“I’m afraid that wouldn’t work.” Aaron spoke up to support Dylan. “But my father will do what he can for you when he gets out, I’m sure.”
“It’ll be too late by then,” she cried, grabbing Cheyenne. “Can’t you talk to them? I know this isn’t the best introduction, but we’re family now.”
Cheyenne looked startled that Anya had chosen her for this appeal, and the fact that she’d laid hands on his wife didn’t sit well with Dylan.
“I’m sorry if we seem coldhearted, but we barely know you,” he said. “It’s my father’s place to see to your needs.”
Aaron ground his teeth. They’d be fools to let her start using them. But...what would happen to the girl? They’d come into this feeling leery, afraid that Anya would try to get away with something, but they hadn’t expected the complication of an innocent party.
“J.T. gets out in less than three months,” Anya went on. “We wouldn’t be there long. What’s three months if you can save two people from becoming homeless?”
The girl looked so disheartened that Aaron was tempted to say they’d take her and her alone. Dylan was wrestling with the same uncertainty; Aaron could see it on his brother’s face. But, in the end, it was Grady who spoke up.
“What if we take Natasha? Do you have a friend you could live with until Dad gets out?”
Anya rocked back, obviously insulted that they’d try to exclude her. “I can’t let my teenage daughter move into a houseful of men! Not without me there to protect her.”
“It wouldn’t be a household of men,” Aaron pointed out. “It’d be a household of brothers—to set her straight and look out for her, remember?”
Her lips pursed at his sarcasm but it was Natasha who responded. “I don’t need anyone. I can make it on my own.” Tossing her napkin on the table she got up and walked out.
Anya didn’t follow. “Don’t listen to her. We don’t have anywhere else to go,” she pleaded. “If you’re willing to take Natasha, you can let me live there, too, can’t you? Why would you want to split her up from her mother?”
Aaron was willing to bet Natasha would love nothing more than to be separated from Anya. He was also convinced she couldn’t make it on her own at all, that she had no real options, or she wouldn’t have accompanied Anya here today.
When Presley squeezed his hand, he guessed she felt the same.
“Maybe it wouldn’t matter if they stayed for a few months,” Rod said. “As long as they s
hare a room, like she said.”
“We could do that.” Anya pounced immediately. “That’d be perfect. And think how great it would be to have a woman around. Wait until you see how I can cook. I’m good at a lot of other things, too.”
She didn’t elaborate on that, and Aaron was afraid to ask.
“Grady, Rod...” Dylan began, but could say little more. Although they must have heard the warning note in his voice, Grady sighed and shrugged it off.
“Everyone needs a break now and then, Dyl,” he said. “And this could make a big difference in Dad’s life, give him a break, too, since he can’t help her at the moment. But I can only speak for myself. Rod’s weighed in. Mack, what about you?”
As all eyes turned to him, Mack hesitated. It was rare for him not to side with Dylan. But, ultimately, he nodded. What else could he do? He was the most excited about J.T. getting out, about finally having a father. But chances were good that their father would put this woman first, and Mack would wind up with nothing—like always.
Aaron glanced at Presley. He could tell that Anya was taken aback that she hadn’t managed to gain a warmer welcome, but she wasn’t going to let what they thought or felt stand in the way.
“You’ll see that I’m not hard to live with,” she said and quickly made arrangements to arrive the very next day.
“Holy hell,” he muttered as, a bit shell-shocked, they slowly made their way to the exit after she’d left. “I knew that wasn’t going to go well, but...shit. I don’t think it could’ve gone any worse.”
Presley was carrying Wyatt, but she propped him on one hip and looped her arm through Aaron’s. “Tell the truth. You felt as sorry for the girl as the rest of us did.”
“Of course,” he admitted. “Anya had a secret weapon. She completely disarmed us, just as she set out to do.”
They paused in the shade of the overhang and watched the two drive off in a rattletrap car.
“I think we’re in for trouble,” Grady said.
They sure were. But Aaron wasn’t going to let his father ruin his life again. If he’d ever had any doubts about moving to Reno, he didn’t now.
28
Presley hardly saw Aaron the following week. Dylan and Cheyenne had left for Hawaii, so he was running the shop, as well as trying to keep up with his own share of bodywork after hours. He called her whenever he took a break, and slipped into bed with her late at night—he refused to go home, where he could run into Anya or Natasha—but he was gone again before she got up. She missed him, but she knew these lonely days were only a sample of what it would be like when he was no longer living in town.
Once Dylan and Cheyenne returned, Aaron started moving into his new place. Presley went with him when her schedule allowed it and helped him clean the house and unpack. He didn’t ask for her help, but he seemed to like having her and Wyatt with him whenever possible, and she figured it would be reassuring, a way to prove to herself that he’d be comfortable and happy in his new home.
He talked as if he’d be visiting Whiskey Creek often, as if the move wouldn’t change a thing between them. But Presley didn’t believe that. A three-hour drive was a significant obstacle. As soon as he got busy—and he’d be extremely busy launching the new shop—he’d stay in Reno for longer and longer periods of time. And she had no car, so she couldn’t drive herself.
She supposed that was for the best. Then the amount of their interaction would be up to him. She was tired of caring more than he did, hated that it seemed as if that would never change. If he wanted to be with her and Wyatt, he knew where to find them. It wasn’t like he’d had to make this move. Dylan and the others would’ve been fine with his staying. He was the one who’d wanted to branch out on his own. Sure, he wasn’t happy about Anya and Natasha inserting themselves into his life, but his brothers were tolerating it. As recently as just a few weeks ago, he could’ve chosen to stay in Whiskey Creek, but he’d signed both leases after they’d started seeing each other almost every day.
The first night they spent at his place was three weeks before her birthday. “What do you want me to get you?” he asked. They were wrapped in each other’s arms and had been talking about the party Cheyenne was planning to throw for her, which was how the subject came up.
Presley had to admit she was disappointed that he’d ask. She would’ve preferred that he pick out something on his own and surprise her. But maybe she was being too sensitive. He’d had a lot on his mind and his schedule, and that was only going to get worse.
“I don’t need anything in particular,” she said. “Maybe some yoga mats so I can provide them to students who don’t have their own.”
“That’s pretty practical.”
“It would still be a good gift. I want to be successful.” Besides, practical gifts were about the only kind she’d ever received, so she was used to it.
“What you need is a car.”
“Not in Whiskey Creek,” she said. “And I’d rather not have the payments.”
“Then how will you drive up here?”
“I won’t. You’ll have to visit me.” Even if he found other friends, other women to date, he’d come back for Wyatt, wouldn’t he? That gave her some security—but also made it impossible to build a life that didn’t include him.
He kissed her bare shoulder. “Don’t worry. I’ll visit often.”
“Are you coming to my party?”
“Of course,” he said. “What was that you said to Cheyenne, anyway? ‘If I have time’? What kind of guy do you think I am? I wouldn’t miss your birthday.”
“You have a lot to do here. That’s all I was thinking.”
“None of it is more important than you.”
She didn’t argue with him, but if that was true, he wouldn’t have moved. Or...he would’ve asked her to come, too.
* * *
Just as she’d feared, Presley didn’t see much of Aaron in the days leading up to June 26. He called her daily, but the drive was too long to make very often. She couldn’t go to Reno herself because, besides the fact that she didn’t own a car, she had early yoga classes and massage appointments. He couldn’t come down because he was already paying rent on his new location and needed to get the renovations finished as soon as possible so he could open.
She missed him more with each passing day, but she refused to dwell on it—or show her sister, who was obviously concerned, how much it hurt that he could move on so easily.
“Aaron told me he’ll definitely be here for your birthday,” Cheyenne told her when they were addressing the invitations one afternoon.
“He hasn’t been able to come back as often as he thought,” she said, “but...hopefully he’ll make it.”
“He will.”
Presley hated that he’d ever left. Even Wyatt seemed sad. When he called, Aaron always asked to talk to his son if Wyatt was up, but nothing was the same. She knew Riley believed it was over between them because he came in for one of the massages she owed him and flirted with her as if they’d never had that encounter at her house.
By the time her birthday rolled around, she was so homesick for Aaron that she didn’t care about cake or presents or even the friends who might come to her party. It was more about seeing him. So she splurged on a new dress—a brand-new dress, not one from the secondhand store—gave her fingernails and toenails a fresh coat of polish and sprayed on his favorite perfume, all in anticipation of the moment he’d walk through Cheyenne’s door. She’d put so much effort into her appearance that when he texted to let her know he’d be late, she couldn’t help feeling let down.
Although she smiled and talked and pretended to have a great time, it was easy to tell that Cheyenne and Dylan were just as upset with Aaron. As the minutes turned into hours, she began to wonder if he was going to show at all.
“It’s time
for Presley to open her presents,” Cheyenne announced.
They’d already stalled as long as possible. Cheyenne couldn’t put it off any longer without ruining the party. People were starting to leave. So Presley sat down and let Wyatt play with the discarded wrapping paper as she opened each package.
Cheyenne and Dylan gave her an expensive painting of the foothills surrounding Whiskey Creek, one she’d been fixated on since they’d seen it at a local gallery. Grady, Rod and Mack gave her a sizable gift certificate for Amazon. Ted Dixon and his fiancée, Sophia, gave her an e-reader. From Anya and Natasha she got a handmade certificate for some “free” babysitting for Wyatt—not that Presley would ever let Anya be alone with him. She didn’t trust Aaron’s new stepmother but she liked Natasha. Other than that, she got various items from her yoga and massage clients—movie tickets, a houseplant, a pretty necklace.
She managed to hold back the tears that lurked just below the surface long enough to thank everyone. Then she couldn’t wait to escape her own party so she wouldn’t have to try so hard to keep up the act, but Cheyenne told her there was one package left.
Dylan brought it out of one of the bedrooms and said, “This is from Aaron.”
Aaron had a gift for her? How, when he hadn’t even arrived?
She didn’t ask. Too many people were looking on, feeling sorry for her. She could sense their sympathy, hear the whispers. Isn’t she with Aaron anymore?...Why didn’t he come to the party?...I heard he was supposed to. Cheyenne said so...Did they break up?
She’d been seen all over town with the father of her baby just three weeks earlier. Happier than she’d ever been. Now he wasn’t even at her birthday party.
She didn’t want to open Aaron’s gift in front of anyone, especially Cheyenne and Dylan because they were most privy to her disappointment. But Cheyenne had Dylan bring it in, and if she refused to open it, the hurt she was feeling would be that much more apparent.
