She's With Me

by Jessica Cunsolo

  I can’t tell if it’s Jason or Jackson since they’re identical, and I’ve never met either of them before, but I can tell I already love them.

  “Are you friends with Aiden? You’re way too pretty to be his friend. You’re definitely a new babysitter! Will you let me eat cake before dinner? Aiden never lets me eat cake before dinner, it’s so annoying,” Jason or Jackson muses.

  This is why I love kids. They speak their minds and don’t worry about anything. This kid just called me pretty twice within the first three seconds of meeting me, and is now sharing his opinion about the age-old debate about dessert before dinner.

  “Well, actually—”

  The door’s pulled open wider, and I’m suddenly seeing double. “Jason! Aiden told us we’re not allowed to open the door when he’s in the shower!” Jackson scolds his twin.

  Jason scoffs at his brother and says in a hushed tone, “There’s a pretty girl standing at our front door. What idiot wouldn’t open the door?”

  I’m trying my best to contain my laughter. Clearly being a ladies man runs in the Parkers’ DNA. Jackson looks at me for the first time, his face turning red in the most adorable way.

  “I’m sorry,” Jackson says, “but you’ll have to come back another time when our brother is around.”

  “Why can’t she just wait inside?” Jason asks his brother.

  “Because,” Jackson emphasizes in a low, annoyed tone to his brother, “Aiden said not to open the door! I’m pretty sure that means not letting strangers in our house either.”

  I can tell Jason is about to start arguing with his more responsible brother, and I don’t want to start any more trouble.

  “Listen, guys, it’s okay, I’ll just come back—”

  “Didn’t I tell you not to open the door!”

  There it is. The reason I’m here. The reason my pulse quickens and slows at the same time. The reason my lungs forget to work and my heart decides to work double time.

  The boys look at each other with expressions that can best be described as “Oh shit,” when they hear their older brother’s booming voice. Come to think of it, I’m probably sharing the same expression, still having no idea what to say to him. Heavy footsteps quickly come to the door and Aiden comes into view, his tense face visibly relaxing when he notices it’s just me, before it morphs into an angry expression aimed at his brothers.

  “You guys know the rules! This door stays locked if I’m not around!” he scolds, looking more tense than usual.

  His hair is still wet and disheveled, and he’s clearly just stepped out of his shower. He looks like he realized the boys were talking to strangers, so he frantically threw pants on and ran downstairs, forgetting his shirt. My God. This boy is the perfect specimen of a physically fit man if I’ve ever seen one.

  I force my eyes up from his perfect abs and chest, focusing instead on his face. At least now I know for sure that all that time he spends at the gym and eating clean is paying off. Maybe once we’re friends again he could train me. Maybe he could be topless while doing it too . . .

  Focus, Amelia.

  Not wanting to get either of the boys in trouble, I’m about to say something when Jackson beats me to it.

  “I’m sorry. I heard the doorbell and was curious.”

  Wait. Jason was the one who opened the door. Jackson was the one who told his brother it was wrong. Jason studies his feet and holds one arm, clearly feeling guilty but still letting his brother take the fall for him.

  Aiden shuts his eyes and gives a defeated sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Just go upstairs. We’ll talk about it later. You, too, Jason.”

  The boys give me a last glance, which I return with a small smile, and I hear them make their way up the stairs.

  Aiden takes a calming breath and turns to fully face me. “What are you doing here?”

  Still focusing on keeping my gaze above his bare, sculpted shoulders, I try to organize my thoughts.

  “I know why you’re mad at me, and I wanted to say I can totally understand. I mean, I’d be pissed at me, too, if I did that, but I know that I can explain everything to you, but I just don’t know how, and I really don’t want this to ruin our friendship and this thing that we have going here but—”

  “What the fuck are you talking about?” Aiden asks, cutting off my incoherent rambling.

  “Um, about, you know—you’re mad because of me?”

  Aiden suddenly snaps. “Not everything’s about you all the time, Amelia!”

  His outburst takes me completely off guard. “Oh. Okay.”

  Aiden genuinely looks annoyed and tense. He hasn’t talked to me like that since the first time I bumped into him on my first day at school. Taking the hint that he really doesn’t want me here, I take a step backward to escape before I make things worse like I always do.

  “Sorry, then, I’ll just . . . yeah.”

  I turn around to make my escape, and hear the door slam behind me. Not even two seconds after the door closes, I hear it open again, and Aiden shouts my name. Freezing in place, I don’t turn around to face him, refusing to let him see how much he affects me. I can feel him behind me, but I won’t look at him, I just can’t.

  “I’m sorry,” he says, sounding sincere and defeated. He turns me around to face him, leaving his hands on my arms. He looks tired. He looks defeated. He looks frustrated. He looks . . . lost.

  “I’m not mad at you,” he begins. “I’m just taking out my anger on you. You don’t deserve that.”

  “It’s okay, Aiden. You know I’m here if you need anything.”

  “Can you come back inside?”

  Aiden steps back on the porch, gesturing for me to follow him. I walk into his house and he closes the door behind me. I take off my shoes as he tells me he’ll be back in a second, and he disappears up the stairs.

  I can’t help but simultaneously pray that he did and didn’t go get a shirt to put on. I mean, it’d be a lot easier to think, but damn that boy rivals even the hottest Armani model.

  Aiden comes down a few seconds later—sadly, with a shirt on—and we head into the kitchen.

  I sit on the stool at the kitchen counter and Aiden remains standing on the other side of the counter in front of me. It’s quiet for a moment, each of us just looking at the other, not knowing where to start.

  “So—”

  “I just—” We speak at the same time.

  “You go first,” I encourage him.

  Aiden takes a calming breath. “Remember how I told you that the first day I met you I took my aggression out on you because I just learned Greg could be released on parole?”

  I nod.

  “I guess I’m doing the same thing now.”

  “You mean—”

  “Yeah. I found out Saturday morning he’s being released in two weeks.”

  That’s why he cut everyone out this weekend and skipped school today—he has much bigger things to worry about.

  “Shit. I’m so sorry, Aiden.”

  “It’s just, we have a bad history.” He comes around the counter and sits on the stool beside me.

  “I know, Aiden.” Even though he’s never directly told me that he was abused, it’s been implied.

  “I know he’s going to come for the twins.”

  “What? Why?”

  He runs his hands through his hair, clearly stressed beyond belief. “He already hates me for being me. Now everything with Ryan, plus he knows I petitioned against having him released on parole. He’s going to come purely because he can, and I can’t do anything to protect them.”

  “That’s why you were so mad when the twins opened the door.”

  He nods, resting his elbows on the counter and putting his head in his hands.

  “Aiden!” I’m interrupted when the twins run into the kitchen, and he sits up st
raight.

  “Tyler just got a new dog! Can we go over and play with it?” Jason asks, holding a phone in his hand, Jackson nodding enthusiastically.

  “No,” Aiden replies without giving a reason. “Go play in the backyard. Tell Tyler to bring it here if he wants, but you boys stay here.”

  “But Aid—”

  “No. Outside. Go.” Aiden cuts Jason off with a tone implying that there’s no room for arguing.

  The twins’ excitement visibly deflates, and they saunter toward the glass double-sliding door in the kitchen that leads out to the backyard, phone still in hand.

  Jason resumes his conversation with Tyler as they walk through the door leading outside. “No, I know you can’t come over but—”

  “And make sure the gates are closed!” Aiden calls after them as Jackson closes the door.

  He’s stressed, tired, and probably feels like he’s going through this alone. He has no one to help him look after the twins, and now he’s being protective because he refuses to let the twins have the same abusive childhood that he lived through.

  “We’re here for you, Aiden. Not just me, but Noah, Mason, Julian, and everyone else. You’re not alone. We’ll make sure he doesn’t hurt them—”

  “You don’t understand!” he says louder than he should have, making me automatically flinch, and his expression turns guilty upon seeing this.

  “Help me,” I reply calmly.

  Aiden sighs, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand. “Greg has legal custody.”

  “What? I thought . . .” I trail off, not even knowing what to say to Aiden.

  “My mom listed Greg as their guardian until I turn eighteen. If Greg just stayed in jail a couple of weeks longer, I’d have full custody.”

  My eyebrows draw together, trying to figure out all the facts before we attempt to come up with solutions. “Who technically has custody of them now, since Greg’s in jail?”

  “Since I’m not eighteen, Greg still has legal custody. He can give physical custody to a third party, which he gave to his ex-wife. Clearly, since the boys are living with me, it wasn’t enforced, and Paula has no desire to support two boys who have nothing to do with her.”

  So the twins are supposed to be living with Ryan’s mom since Aiden isn’t eighteen yet. Technically, Greg has custody of Aiden, too, since he’s still seventeen and a minor in the eyes of the state.

  “Okay, you turn eighteen in January. We can just keep the twins away from him for those couple of weeks. I doubt he’ll try to go the legal route, and even if he did, it takes a while for those requests to process. There would be no point. We can work through this, Aiden. He’s not going anywhere near the boys.”

  As much as I’m concerned about Aiden, the bigger part of me just feels guilty. A huge, urgent, burning sense of guilt is eating me from the inside out. Here I am saying we’re here for him, while simultaneously knowing I’m never going to see him again in a few weeks.

  “It’s just—” he starts, and I give him an encouraging look to continue. “Nothing’s really stopping him from getting back on drugs. I wouldn’t put it past him to use junkie logic and convince himself that the twins are rightfully his and to take them.”

  “He will have just gotten out of jail. Do you really think his main priority will be to come for two boys who aren’t even blood related to him?”

  “I don’t know, Amelia! He’s a drugged-up sociopath. I wouldn’t put it past him to want the twins, since he could have complete control over them, to hurt them any way he wants—” His piercing gray eyes look straight through me with a look that promises to cause someone pain. “All I know is that I’ll kill him before I let him hurt the twins like he did me.”

  In that moment, I believe him. I know Aiden will do anything before he lets someone hurt his brothers.

  Unable to resist, I wrap my arms around him in an awkward yet still comfortable side hug, and rest my head on his shoulder. “It’ll be okay, Aiden.”

  “How do you know?” he says quietly.

  “I just do.”

  I don’t know. But I believe in Aiden, and I know that of everyone I’ve ever met, he’s one of the very few people I can completely depend on.

  I lift my head off of his shoulder and let my arms drop. I reluctantly pull away and look at him again. “Just loosen up on the boys a bit; Greg’s not here.”

  “I know, I’m just—I’m not taking any chances. The second you let your guard down is the second shit hits the fan.”

  Don’t I know it. Every time I let my guard down and get comfortable in a new town, Tony shows up. That’s why this time my mom’s forcing us to leave before he has a chance to hurt anyone here.

  “I know, but you can’t cover them in bubble wrap and force them to stop living life. Why don’t we all go out for ice cream tonight? You need to take your mind off of everything; relax a bit—stop being so strict and overbearing and let the twins have some fun!”

  “They’re still having fun!” Aiden defends his protectiveness.

  I raise a skeptical eyebrow and pointedly look through sliding glass doors to the backyard, where the twins are sitting on the ground, picking at the grass and occasionally throwing it at each other.

  “Okay, okay. You made your point. I guess letting them see the puppy won’t kill them.”

  “Good.” I stand up and tuck the stool back under the counter. “Now, I’m going to go home and text everyone and tell them to meet us at Sweetie’s Ice Cream Parlor at seven. You’re going to make the twins dinner, then drive them to Tyler’s house and come meet us at Sweetie’s.”

  He rolls his eyes at me but smiles at my authoritative tone. “Of course, Your Majesty.”

  His mood seems to have lightened a bit. He still looks stressed, but he doesn’t look as hopelessly lost as he did before.

  “I’ll text you if the time or location changes.”

  He looks at me like he can’t decide if I’m joking or the biggest idiot he’s ever met.

  “What?” I ask.

  “Amelia, I lost my phone at the track. Remember?”

  I literally facepalm myself. How stupid am I? That’s why he didn’t answer when I called him earlier.

  Later that night, all my friends and I are sitting in a big comfy booth in the corner of Sweetie’s Ice Cream Parlor.

  “Do you have a charger in that huge purse of yours, Amelia? My phone is dying,” Mason asks as he finishes off his chocolate cone.

  “You know I do.”

  I twist and kneel on the booth to grab my purse, sitting on top of it, and plop back down in my seat. Readjusting my shirt, I rummage through my bag for the charger.

  “You guys make fun of me for carrying a big purse, but you all love to use the stuff inside it,” I say, noticing only a beat too late that all conversation around me has completely halted.

  The air suddenly feels tense, and my hand freezes where it is in my bag. I slowly look up to find everyone staring at me in either confusion, shock, or horror.

  “What?”

  Chase starts, “Amelia—”

  “What the fuck happened to your stomach?” Aiden interrupts, his gaze burning a hole right through my shirt.

  “Um, nothing?”

  Smooth, Amelia. Real freaking smooth. Everyone saw the giant fist-shaped bruise on your abdomen that Dave gave you as a “fuck you” gift to Aiden, and the only thing you can think to say is “Um, nothing.”?

  “It looks like someone punched you,” Charlotte whispers in confusion.

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” I reply in a tone I hope comes across as convincingly unfazed.

  For some reason, I glance over at Mason, the only other person who has some kind of idea about what happened that night, but he’s sworn to secrecy. He’s staring directly at my covered stomach, a look of guilt clear on his face.

  “Bu
llshit,” Annalisa retorts. “Let me see it again.”

  “No, really, it’s fine.” I’m praying that my face isn’t getting all red from the scrutiny and betraying me.

  Before I know it, Annalisa grabs the bottom of my shirt and yanks it up to reveal my sore, multicolored, bruised stomach.

  Annalisa’s bright-blue eyes cloud with anger. “Was it Kaitlyn? I swear to God I will cut a bitc—”

  “No one hit me,” I interrupt, forcing my shirt back down and covering my stomach.

  “Then what happened?” Aiden asks in a way that makes me feel like he’s a professional interrogator and I’m the criminal caught in his web.

  “I walked into furniture,” I lie lamely.

  “Furniture?”

  “Yeah, you know me. I’m the biggest klutz.” I’m usually really good at lying—I have to be—but I’m finding it really hard to lie straight to Aiden’s face.

  “You walked into fist-shaped furniture?! More than once?”

  “It was just the one time,” I mumble automatically.

  “What? Someone hit you hard enough to leave that mark?!” he says.

  “Well, to be fair, I’m pretty sure I bit a chunk of his hand out—” I joke for some reason, stupidly thinking that it’ll help the situation.

  Aiden’s eyes light up with fury before he masks it. “Who?” Aiden’s jaw is clenched, his tone eerily stoic.

  “Aiden, it’s—”

  “My fault,” Mason interrupts, still looking at my now-covered stomach with a guilty expression.

  Aiden’s head snaps to Mason. “What?” he growls.

  “At the track . . .” Mason starts, his eyes filled with despair.

  “You hit Amelia?!” Noah exclaims with disgust.

  “Of course not, don’t be ridiculous.” I defend Mason. “And it’s not his fault.”

  “It is! I know you said we were okay, but I still feel awful about it. We knew something bad was probably going to happen to you and I still left you like that—”

  “Can someone explain what the hell is going on?” Annalisa interrupts, tired of looking back and forth from me to Mason.

  “At the Tracks the other night, I went with Amelia to the bathroom—you know that little one in the middle of the field? While she was in there I saw Amanda, so I went over to talk to her and I didn’t see Amelia come out,” Mason explains quickly, eager to clear his conscience.