by Stacey Lynn
Aidan texted every day asking for a chance to explain, asking to talk to me when I was ready, yet I could tell he was also becoming impatient. At some point, the man I came to love would stop letting me hide from him.
But until that happened, I preferred the solace of Camden’s house with my friends, sitting around drinking margaritas from a bucket mix from Costco instead of Fireside.
Though I was so tired of their shifty-eyed looks, as if they no longer knew what to say to me.
They’d made their opinions clear.
Give him a chance.
Run.
Hear him out.
Asshole.
Camden had been ringing the “asshole” bell loud and clear, which was exactly what I expected from her.
And yet, the few times I’d heard her say it, I couldn’t bring myself to agree with it.
Because I was still a fool, and even ignoring Aidan, knowing whatever I thought we were building was over, I still couldn’t hate the jerk.
“Someone give me good news,” I pleaded.
“Psssh,” Camden said into her glass, frowning. “I don’t have anything good. I got a new boss at work the other day and he’s a total prick.”
“Is he hot?” Paige asked, a glimmer in her eye. When Camden shot her a glare, she shrugged. “What? Office romances are hot.”
“And could get me fired.” Camden scowled. “And no, the guy is worthless and his hair is greasy. He’s a total slimeball, really.”
“That sucks,” I muttered, only because I’d been listening to her complain about her new boss for days now. I didn’t blame her, either. Camden worked for a tax accounting firm that handled accounts for small- to medium-size businesses. Tax season was finally over and she was finally able to stop working until nine or ten o’clock every night. From what she’d told me, her new boss only got the job because he was related to some higher-up, not because he was qualified.
And Camden had wanted that job, so she was fuming about the guy’s ineptitude.
“I had a kid shove a pea up his nose at lunch today,” Paige added unhelpfully.
I turned and looked at her. “How is that good news?”
She grinned. “It made me laugh.”
I shook my head, a small, brief chuckle falling from my lips while I was midsip in my margarita. It made the drink bubble and then burn in my nose as I choked on it.
“Ow,” I whined, pinching my nose to stop the horrible feeling. Tequila burn up the nose was wretched.
But it broke the morose feeling that had settled in the room for a few minutes, at least until Blue looked at me pensively. She’d been relatively quiet throughout the night, watching me with a look that told me she was trying to decide what to say, if anything. She’d fit right into our original group of four from the very beginning when Paige had gone over and talked to her one night at Fireside. In truth, Suzanne had dared her to, since Blue had seemed to know Declan and she wanted to know if the two of them were dating. Not that we’d ever told Blue that part. Sometimes I felt bad for her and Trina. It wasn’t always easy to become the new members of a group of friends who had known each other for what seemed like forever. I knew it made them uncomfortable, feeling like they couldn’t be completely honest with us.
But we loved them. We loved Blue and Trina just like we loved each other. In the last year, we’d all gone through hell and back several times over with the drama they’d both faced early on in their relationships. To me, at least, it cemented us together in a way that few would understand.
“What?”
Blue shrugged, seeming to carefully consider her words.
“When Cory left you, that was really shitty.”
“Thanks for bringing it up.”
She pinned me with a look. One that, swear to God, she had to have learned from her now-convicted father. He was rotting in a federal prison due to his illegal dealings while he ran an underworld crime family. Had I not known how kind and sweet Blue was, the look she gave me would have made me tremble in fear.
“Do you remember when Tyson and I were separated? And we both got drunk and sat on that bench waiting for a cab?”
A cab we’d never seen show up because when Declan had seen us sitting outside, worried, he’d called Tyson to pick us up. After Tyson had arrested her father, Blue hadn’t spoken to him for months.
“Of course I remember.”
“Then you’ll remember that you told me Tyson Blackwell is one of the good guys. He lied. He hurt me intentionally by keeping information from me, and I didn’t know if I could forgive him for that. It was you and your wisdom that opened the door to the possibility of me being able to do that for him. I feel like in this case, it’s my turn to do the same thing for you.”
“Yeah, but this isn’t the first time.”
“And it won’t be the last,” she replied, rolling her eyes. “I mean, come on, Chelsea. He’s lost his son. In an accident—no advance warning, no time to prepare. How stable do you really think the guy is going to be? And with Mandy showing up, someone I’ve heard crazy-ass things about, and her history of dicking Aidan around for the last fifteen years, you have to give him a little leeway to fuck up.” She shrugged, as if she hadn’t just rocked my world and the foundation I’d been trying to stand on the last few days. When she spoke again, her voice was sweeter. “I’m not saying you have to forgive him. I’m not saying you should. I’m saying the man needs a bit more understanding and allowances for screwing up right now. That’s all.”
“And if you don’t get yourself some closure by talking to him soon,” Suzanne said, cutting in before I could speak, not that I could find anything to say, “you’re going to regret it, sweetie. Talk to him. Listen. And then decide.”
I glowered at her. “Who said you could come to girls’ night and be rational?”
Suzanne shrugged, a hint of a smile on her lips. “I haven’t been drinking.”
I scoffed and finished my drink before getting a refill along with a plate of nachos that Paige had picked up at Fireside on her way over.
We may not have been eating there, but I had no problems taking the food she’d brought with her. It was exceptional.
Later, after we’d finished margaritas and everyone had left and Camden and I had finished cleaning up, I realized two things:
Suzanne hadn’t had a single drink.
And she’d never shared her good news.
As I dragged myself up the stairs to bed, my stomach sank with the reality of how much she loved me, because I wasn’t stupid. She and Jackson had been married for six years and Suzanne had never not drunk on a girls’ night—or any other day ending with Y.
She was pregnant. She had to be. And probably worried about me and what my reaction to that would be, so she hadn’t felt like she could share it with her best friends.
I fell asleep feeling like a complete heel for making my friends worry, for not being the kind of person they’d been for me—someone who was happy for the others regardless of what was going on in her own life.
In my hazy, tipsy brain, I made a mental note to clear the air with Suzanne, figure out how to get my own shit together in my head, and grow the hell up.
—
“I’m so glad to hear he’s doing well, Beth,” I said into my phone.
“Yes, well, he’s getting there. And hopefully he’ll be home soon.”
I tapped my pen against my desk, trying to find something to say to encourage her. Shane had been in treatment for several weeks now and I knew she was anxious to have her son home, but worried about how he’d handle everything once he was.
As it stood, Shane wouldn’t return to school for the end of the year, but instead would be getting private tutors over the summer to help him catch up. He was coming home in the next couple of weeks, right around the time school was let out for the year.
But that was only schoolwork.
I was still worried about Shane, too.
“He will,” I assured her. And then I
asked the question I’d been trying not to ask. “Has he seen Aidan lately?”
My stomach twisted into knots saying his name. I was still so angry with him.
She sighed into the phone. “He has, but not a lot. When I talked to Aidan a few days ago he seemed really upset. Have any idea what that’s about?”
“Mandy showed up last week.” My stomach twisted further. Saying Mandy’s name was worse than saying Aidan’s. Even thinking about Mandy made me feel unsettled.
She gasped. “That would explain it. How’d he handle it?”
“Not really sure.” My grip tightened around my pen as I flashed back to that night. I was saved from having to answer when the after-lunch bell rang. “Listen, that’s the bell, I really have to go.”
“Sounds good. Talk to you later?” She sounded hopeful, and I smiled.
Derrick’s death had brought so many more people into my life. Beth was slowly becoming a friend. Even if our main link was Shane, we still shared something that few people did and I was thankful for her. She might not ever join my group of besties, but it was good to know her.
“You bet.”
I hung up the phone and immediately dropped my head into my hands.
Pressing my fingers into my temples, I rubbed small, firm circles. My hangover from girls’ night had yet to disappear despite the amount of water, orange juice, and pain pills I’d taken.
It wasn’t just the lingering effects of too many margaritas that I was still feeling halfway through my workday.
It was Suzanne’s pregnancy that she hadn’t shared.
It was the fact that I missed Aidan. Still pissed and still hurting from what he said, I wanted to pick up the phone and shout a slew of obscenities until his head hurt as badly as mine.
I also wanted to ask him why. Why would he say those things to me, smile and laugh, and talk about a future trip to Chicago when the entire time I was simply nobody important?
Suzanne and Blue were right. At the very least, I needed closure.
“Argh,” I groaned, and squeezed my eyes closed.
I no longer had time to wallow and wonder. I had books to shelve, a task I hated doing, but it was mundane and I really wanted to stop thinking. Fortunately, I didn’t have any classes planning to be in our library or computer labs that afternoon, so I had hours of quiet to look forward to.
Dropping my fingers from my temples, I braced both hands on the edge of my desk to stand up and get to work.
My vision blurred and I swayed on my feet when I saw him.
How I didn’t sense him first, like I’d done in the past, I had no clue, but standing just inside the doors to the library, an orange visitor badge on his chest that all visitors had to wear, was Aidan.
I gasped and my eyes darted to the wall of windows behind him that separated us from the throng of students making their way to their afternoon classes. My pulse began thrumming in my already painful temples and my fingers curled around the laminate edge of my desk.
What was he doing here?
As if he sensed my unasked question, he began walking toward me.
I looked behind me, searching for a way out. This was not the time or the place. And why in the hell was he at my job? I quickly turned to face him, irritated by his presence.
“Hey,” he said, his eyes quickly scanning the room as he came closer to my desk. His hands were in the front pockets of his worn jeans and his hair was a mess, like he’d been running his fingers through it all day.
“What are you doing here?” I seethed, leaning toward him instead of backing away.
He licked his lips and I couldn’t help but watch his tongue dart out.
“You haven’t been home.” His voice was uncertain and I wanted to shake him. “And you haven’t returned my calls.”
His hand went to his hair.
My eyebrows pulled together. “Because I don’t want to talk to you.”
“I know.” He nodded. “And I don’t blame you, but I’ve also been worried about you and I’d like to explain.”
In my peripheral vision, I saw three eighth-grade girls carrying large stacks of books in their arms barrel through the door, their voices instantly quieting as they chattered excitedly.
“I can’t do this here. And you shouldn’t have come.”
“I know that,” he snapped, clearly frustrated with me. “But you haven’t been at your house. Please, Chelsea, just hear me out.”
“Not here,” I relented before I realized I was saying it.
A small grin of satisfaction, or maybe hope, appeared on his face. That familiar warm flutter was back in my stomach and I hated it.
My body was betraying me even as I tried to cling to my anger and pain.
Yet he looked so upset, so bothered, that I felt my heart giving in to him.
Damn it. I was way too freaking nice.
“Later,” I conceded, my voice soft and hesitant.
“I’ll be here after school to get you.”
I frowned, but he didn’t give me a chance to argue.
“I’m not giving you time to change your mind. This week has been killing me, knowing that I hurt you. Just let me beg for your forgiveness, and if you don’t want anything to do with me when I’m done, I’ll leave you alone.”
My heart constricted at the thought.
“Fine.” I swallowed a thick lump in my throat. “After school.”
He lowered his voice and leaned in. “Thank you. And I’m so sorry I hurt you. You’re not nobody, Chelsea. I’ve been kicking myself every day for that night, wanting to make it right. Thank you for giving me this.”
My eyes began to burn with tears. He looked so wrecked. The heavy creases that had lined his forehead after Derrick’s death, but had begun softening in recent weeks, were back. Purple bags lined his eyes. He looked…exhausted.
That familiar pull to comfort him flooded my heart.
And damn it. He’d just apologized. I wanted to forgive him.
“I’ll see you later,” I told him, looking away before he saw that forgiveness was already blossoming in my heart, that I wanted to pull him toward me and wrap my arms around him. But this was the second time he’d hurt me, and while I could forgive him the first, this last one cut deep, even with the apology.
“Thank you, Chelsea.”
When I turned my back to him, my hands were shaking as I gripped the metal book return cart. I heard him let out a deep breath and then soft footsteps walking away from me.
Chapter 19
When the final bell rang, and the sounds of footsteps and escalated voices signaling students were excited for the weekend dulled and quiet reigned inside the library, I found myself both frantic to leave and wishing I could stay within the confines of my safe haven.
Aidan was waiting for me outside.
I knew he was with the certainty that I knew, around him, I was weak. I knew because the intensity in his eyes that I hadn’t been able to erase from my mind guaranteed we were going to have the conversation he wanted to have, whether I wanted it or not.
I was going to have to stay strong. To do the right thing despite wanting to throw my arms around him and pretend we could have a relationship. We couldn’t. There was no way he was ready, and I didn’t blame him, but in reality, he needed a friend more than he needed any further emotional entanglements.
And while my body still remembered his touch, I was not a crutch, nor did I want to become one. I was worth more than that. I deserved to be loved as I loved him.
Despite knowing it was the right thing, there was also still a fear in me that said when he listened to what I had to say, regardless of his reasons and excuses, he would realize that I wasn’t worth the time or the effort.
That once he became accustomed to the quiet in his house, the existence he had to find without his son, that he’d deem it unnecessary to be linked to me.
And that hurt most of all.
But while I was not a crutch, I was also not a coward, even though I wished
in this moment I could be. That I could hide beneath my library desk, waiting for dusk to fall and for Aidan to become bored or angry that I’d ditched him.
However, that wasn’t me.
With slow footsteps, I exited the school, slinging my messenger bag over one shoulder. My purse was held in my right hand, my keys in my left just in case all I was certain of proved me the fool again.
My heels clicked on the pavement and I took a brief moment to tilt my head back and warm my clammy skin with the heat from the sun in the cloudless sky before continuing down the walkway that would take me to the teachers’ parking lot.
His black truck was pulled up directly next to my small Nissan. I smirked, and shook my head when I saw it, unable to hide my reaction to the idea that he was so nervous I would follow my earlier thoughts and run from him that he felt the need to park directly next to my car…so close that I couldn’t open my door without him first moving the truck.
I fought the tug of a grin that wanted to form.
Aidan stood next to the driver’s side of his truck, hip resting on the door, one arm slung over his side-view mirror. His sunglasses covered his eyes, blanking out any expression I could hope to find in his vibrant green eyes.
“You came,” he said as I met him several feet away. It was three feet too far and too close at the same time.
I hated my innate reaction to him. The one that made me want to lean into his embrace and purr, allowing his physical strength to wash away my fears.
My eyes flickered to my car. “Not that I can flee.”
His face stayed fixed on mine and I assumed his eyes did as well. “This is too important to give you the chance.” He nodded toward the fields behind the school. “Walk with me?”
“Sure.”
He paused long enough for me to unlock my car and throw my purse and bag into my trunk, and then with his hands stuffed into his pockets, he walked next to me, silent, until we were at the football field behind the school.
Baseball practice was going on next to the football fields and I could hear the constant clatter of metal bats hitting balls, and the shouts of coaches encouraging players.
