Authors: Stacey Lynn
For once, I felt lighterâ¦happier. Settled.
And I was determined to do whatever it took to feel this way for as long as I could.
“See you soon?” he asked, a hopeful glint in his eyes.
I slid into my seat and looked up at Aidan, who was bracing his arms over the door to my car.
“Follow me,” I whispered.
He shut my door, but right before it closed, I swore I heard him mutter, “I'll follow you anywhere.”
When we got to my house, and into my room, Aidan proved that he wasn't so much a follower, but taught me that despite my hesitancy to follow someone ever again, when we were in bed, I had no problems letting him lead.
“Let's get out of here,” I said to Aidan as he lazily sipped his morning coffee on my back deck.
We hadn't been awake for long, but the sun was shining, bringing hope that the weather was going to be absolutely gorgeous.
He looked at me as if I'd just asked him to sweep me off to France for the weekend.
Which would be
awesome.
I just wanted to get out of my house. Unless we were at Fireside, we were always at my place. Never his. I thought that might have changed weeks ago when he'd resumed contact with Shane, who was still in a mental health rehab facility. According to Beth and Aidan, he was doing well and anxious to come home at the end of the month.
But I was starting to feel paranoid.
“Where did you have in mind?” His cautious tone made me pause and irritation prickled.
“I don't knowâ¦maybe somewhere public?” I arched an eyebrow. “Unless that bothers you?”
He caught my biting tone and I stiffened when he exhaled roughly and rubbed his fingertips against his forehead.
“No, shit, that's not it.”
“We never go anywhere.” My voice was softer, suddenly uncertain, irritated at my own annoyance. Since we'd actually become an
us,
I was determined to take this at his speed. His direction. Some days were harder than others.
“Because I hate the stares I get in town, the dad of the dead kid.” He blew out a heavy breath and shook his head.
I understood. I had to. Being with Aidan came with challenges and minefields that were difficult to maneuver. It didn't mean the results weren't going to be worth the work. I believed that. I
had
to believe that.
An idea formed as I sipped my coffee. Grinning, I set the mug on the table and leaned close to him. “I have the perfect place. And it's hidden, so I can continue to be your dirty little secret.”
I was teasing now. Based on his scowl, he didn't find it funny. Reaching his hand out to mine, he wiggled his fingers.
“Come here.”
I couldn't resist. We'd already had sex once this morning, slowly and tenderly, but every time he was near, every time he touched me, my body was primed for more of him. Unfolding my legs from beneath me on the chair, I placed my hand in his and let him pull me onto his lap. I straddled him, my legs spreading to fall on the outer sides of his thighs.
His hand trailed up my arm to the nape of my neck, where he pulled me toward his lips. He didn't kiss me, just brushed his lips against mine, making me ache for more of him. “You're not my little secret.”
My hips involuntarily rocked into him. He left out the word
dirty.
Intentionally, I suspected.
“I don't like feeling hidden, or that being together is wrong.”
“It's not,” he whispered, his lips now trailing down my throat to my collarbone.
I suppressed a shiver. Aidan set me on fire with a simple glance. When his hands and lips were on me, I turned into a restless ball of burning need.
“But everywhere I go brings back painful memories, and I'm not ready.”
Sometimes he accepted my prodding, other times, he closed off.
This was one of the times when he closed down. His lips covered mine and he didn't continue the conversation.
Which I allowed, mostly because his hands were moving to my shirt, lifting it and tugging it off before his mouth began to slowly trail to my nipples.
I rocked into him, my hands sliding to the back of his head, holding him against me, dragging my nails through his soft and silky thick hair. His gentle, teasing ministrations made me forget the entire conversation as he rose off the chair, taking me with him. He pushed his shorts down past his hips and pulled my underwear to the side, and when he sat again, he slid his erection inside me, where I was more than ready for him.
I let him take me on my patio deck chair, knowing we had full privacy. When I fell over the edge, and he finished inside me, I bit down on his shoulder to stifle my screams.
And after we were done, cleaned up, and dressed to go on an afternoon excursion, I caught Aidan give that exact chair one last glance, a glimmer in his eye.
When he noticed me staring, he simply picked up the cooler from the kitchen where I'd packed a picnic, leaned in, and whispered in my ear, “I do like you dirty, though.”
The small fishing boat we rented was nothing to get excited about. It had only a trolling motor and paddles in case the battery died, and the bare minimum of fishing gear.
I didn't mind.
Aidan thought it was hilarious that I enjoyed fishing and that I brought him to Rabbit Lake, a small lake just a few miles east of town.
I didn't fish often, but growing up on a farm, I was well versed in all things nature.
Fishing was something I used to do with my dad on his rare days off from the farm.
“This is nice,” he said, throwing out his line. Once the lure hit the water, he began to reel it in slowly.
I was bobber fishing because, while I liked fishing, I didn't enjoy swimming with the fish. Our boat didn't look secure enough to withstand two people standing and rocking it, so I chose the easier route of being able to sit and watch my bobber on the waves, while Aidan stood and repeatedly cast his line. I was also the only one to catch a fish so far, and I had reluctantly thrown back the beautiful smallmouth bass twenty minutes ago.
“It's warming up,” I said in response, although I didn't think Aidan was talking about the weather.
“School year is almost done, isn't it?”
I nodded, even though he wasn't looking at me. We'd reached the hardest time of year. Keeping the kids focused during the last month until school got out right after Memorial Day weekend wasn't easy for anyone.
“Yeah.”
“Plans for this summer?”
I shrugged. I usually took a few trips and enjoyed my time off. Last year I'd spent two weeks in Europe and it had been amazing, even if I had been by myself. Sometimes the loneliness of not having a family to go to anymore ate at me and made me feel unsettled. The fact that most of my friends worked during the summer and were unable to get away with me as often didn't help, either.
For the most part, I didn't mind traveling alone. Being in romantic Rome and even more romantic Venice by myself had been difficult. I'd spent most of the days watching couples who were enraptured by each other, wondering if I would ever experience that overwhelming love for someone that they seemed to have.
I shook my head, blinking back the thoughts, when Aidan cleared his throat.
“Sorry, got inside my head for a minute.” I looked away, not wanting him to see what was written on my face. Being with Aidan, in spite of the difficulties, was also one of the best relationships I'd ever had. But there was still the sadness that weighed us down, prevented us from being able to be free around each other.
“No plans,” I said quietly. “I've thought about seeing if Kate needed summer help at the bakery, but I didn't make travel plans earlier this year when I normally do.”
Because I'd been too upset about Derrick, too busy trying to be there for Aidan and Shane, and all my typical summer planning had been forgotten.
“I see.” Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Aidan look away from me, a frown on his face as he turned and focused on casting out his line.
I stared back out at the lake, watching my line gently bounce and dip with the calm, rippling water, when Aidan's husky, thick voice sent a different type of rippling through my body.
“Maybe we can go somewhere.”
I smiled, keeping my focus on the water. “Yeah. Maybe.”
“Chicago.”
“What?” My voice was still breathless as I tried to calm my racing heart from the time Aidan and I had just spent together in his bed.
His bed. At his house. Where he'd invited me for dinner after we got done fishing and decided we'd had enough sun.
It was the first time I'd been in his house since the night of Derrick's birthday.
And I couldn't have been happier about it, because Aidan and I hadn't just had sex. We'd made love. Even if he wasn't ready to admit it, I saw it in his eyes as he moved inside of me. I felt it in the tender way his hands cupped my cheeks and roamed my naked body as I melted beneath him.
I burned for him so deeply I had to bite my lip to keep from shouting the words “I love you” as he brought me to orgasm.
The man was incredible.
His fingers gently ran through my hair as he lay on his side, looking down at me. “Chicago. I want to go there with you.”
My breath caught in my throat for a brief moment. That was where he was supposed to go with Derrick.
“That's where we always went,” Aidan continued. His eyes glazed over and I knew he was rememberingâ¦fond memories that brought aches of sadness to his eyes. “Derrick and I.” He swallowed slowly and I watched him work through what he was going to say versus what he wanted to say. “I want to share that with you.”
“Aidan,” I said, lifting my hand and cupping his cheek. “I'd be honored.”
He dipped down, brushed his lips across mine before I opened my mouth and let him in.
Our kiss was tender as we moved together, his hand on the back of my neck while my fingers grazed the stubble lining his jaw and moved to his hair at the back of his head. I loved it.
I loved
him.
“
I'm
honored,” he whispered against my lips when he pulled back, “that you'll be there with me.”
It was the look that he gave me, his eyes flashing with pleasure and sated lust, the way he stared at me as if I'd just given him the most precious gift in the world that told me I didn't just love this man, I was in love with him. Completely. Irrevocably.
“Sleep.”
It was a simple word said with much more emotion, but I listened to it anyway as he shifted our bodies. He adjusted us until I was lying with my back to his chest, his arms wrapped around me.
Caging me in. Protecting me.
And maybeâ¦hopefullyâ¦loving me in the only way he could right now.
As the heaviness of sleep pulled me under, I knew that even if this was all he could give, it was more than enough.
More than I'd ever had before in my life.
I was yanked to consciousness by a heavy thump hitting the front door. A vicious banging echoed from downstairs, as if someone were trying to pound the door down with a battering ram.
“Aidan?” Chelsea's voice was thick with fear and sleep.
I was already jumping from the bed and yanking on my jeans, not bothering to button them. I wasn't fearful. An intruder didn't act like they were going to blow your house up before entering.
But Mandy, on the other handâthis was the typical kind of bullshit she always pulled. Showing up at all hours, whenever convenient for her.
“Stay here.” I didn't hide my anger.
Of all the nights for her to fucking show up, it had to be this one.
Goddamn it!
Scrubbing my hands through my hair, I took a moment to play out how this confrontation was going to go. I didn't have a way to get ahold of Mandy. I never did. But I knew, with Derrick's birthday already passed, she'd show up sometime.
“Stay the fuck up here.” I snapped it at Chelsea when she jumped out of bed and began reaching for clothes, and cringed. If she could read I was pissed, she'd want to help. It was what she did, who she was.
Normally, I liked it. Her soft heart and her pretty smile always there to ease an ache inside me I couldn't explain. But this wasn't her issue to deal with.
It was mine.
Mandy's psychotic, selfish behavior if she saw her would only make things worse.
“Who is it?” she asked, her voice trembling.
Right as she asked the question, a shrill scream echoed through the door.
For fuck's sake. At midnight, you'd think the woman would have some damn patience.
Chelsea's blue eyes snapped to mine, widened with understanding, and I scrubbed my hands through my hair. My eyes darted from hers to the hallway that led to the stairs and the front door.
“Seriously, Chelsea, don't fuck with me right now. Just stay here.”
Her face went pale and she stepped away from me.
I immediately turned and left the room, barely hearing her whispered, “Okay,” as I slammed the door behind me.
“What are you doing here?” I asked, scowling as soon as I opened the door.
Like every time I saw Mandy, she was dressed like she was ready to hit the clubs, or dig her fingers into deep pockets. Dressed to the nines in jeans and some sort of flowy shirt thing, she was still beautiful.
Unfortunately, her beauty was only skin deep.
I stood in the doorway, not allowing her entrance. She batted her eyelashes at me and smiled coyly, as if the flirtatious bullshit still worked on me like it had when we were fifteen. “Hi, honey. How are you?”
Honey?
I resisted the urge to slam the door in her face. “What do you want, Mandy?”
“I want to see Derrick, of course.” She held up two large gift bags draped on her wrists. “I missed his birthday.”
Fuck. I couldn't do this. I couldn't be pissed at her even though I wanted to scream at her. Seeing those bags, the hope in her eyes. She was a shitty mom. The worst. Even when my own parents divorced when I was kid and my mom took off, she'd still made an effort for a while. Eventually I'd stopped hearing from her and I'd stopped making the effort, too, but she'd done
something
when I was a kid. I hadn't seen or spoken to her in ten years, but I couldn't hate her as much as I hated the woman in front of me.
“It's late,” I said, and opened the door, letting her in. “He's not here.”
I didn't want to do this. Didn't know how to do this. How did I tell her the kid she never cared about has died? And what would I do when she acted like she didn't care?
“Where is he?” she asked, impatient as always. The world revolved around Mandy and her desires and she never changed.
“Not here,” I repeated.
She pushed past me and dumped the bags on the entryway floor, inserting herself farther inside my house while she looked around. Her eyes narrowed on Chelsea's pink purse on the side table and then snapped to me.
“You have company? Did I come at a bad time?”
That gleam in her eye was wicked, full of destruction. God, who knew someone so pretty could be such a selfish bitch?
I ignored her question and stepped toward the stairs. I wanted distance before I slapped her or before she took off running to my room in search of the woman she now knew was in my bed.
“Like I said, Mandy. Derrick's gone.” The word fell from my mouth like sludge. Tasted worse and burned as I swallowed. Fuck. I hadn't had to explain it to anyone yet. What was I supposed to say?
Just get it out. Like ripping off a Band-Aid, and she'll be gone.
I opened my mouth to tell her everything, to tell her about Derrick's accident, when I felt Chelsea's presence at the top of the stairs. I hid my flinch as I saw Mandy's eyes snap toward the movement I knew she must have seen.
Like every time I was around Chelsea, I felt her before I saw her. Knew her comfort was close by. This time, it would be my job to protect her. Protect her from Mandy and her vile bullshit. If she knew Chelsea was important to me, I'd never get rid of her. She'd never leave town. She'd become worse than a vulture and try to restake the claim on me she'd severed years ago.
And she'd be a bitch about it. She'd make Chelsea's life hell. I didn't want that. Couldn't have that.
Mandy's eyes narrowed on me. “Well, when is Derrick coming home? I have presents for him.”
Pain seared my chest, “He isn't.” I exhaled roughly and ran a hand down my face while I searched for firm footing. “Mandyâ”
“Who's this?” Like always, she was more concerned about her competition in a race that didn't exist than her kid. Typical.
Soft footsteps hit the stairs behind me. I knew she was coming and I straightened my back, preparing for the pain I was about to inflict. I'd make it up to her later.
I had to do the one thing I'd been dreading doing for weeks now and then get this bitch out of my life.
“Nobody important.”
It was the worst thing I could have said. I heard Chelsea's gasp, and when I looked back at her, saw her face had gone ashen. Her skin so pale it matched my white shirt she'd thrown on. Her fingers curled around the banister and I knew in that moment I'd just majorly fucked up.
I knew her insecurities. I knew how her ex had treated her.
“I see,” Mandy said, and regained my attention. I'd dismissed Chelsea, so now she was inconsequential to Mandy as well. God. What a fucking mistake. “When do I get to see Derrick?”
Tears burned in my eyes. At the reality crashing down on me, at the fucking gifts on the entryway floor, mocking me with their silence and bright-colored papers. At the pain I felt radiating off Chelsea even as she stepped closer to us.
Damn it. I had to end this.
I opened my mouth to speak when Chelsea's quiet, pain-filled, and wretched voice whispered through the air.
“He's gone, Mandy. He passed away.”
Shit!
Her eyes came to rest on mine and she slowly arched an eyebrow.
“Derrick died, Mandy.”
Mandy blinked. Her head jerked back, and then she looked at me. “What?”
The color drained from her face. I imagined she looked similar to Chelsea, who was now next to me, a hand on my back, offering me comfort even though I'd just broken her. I could feel it seeping off of her. All I wanted to do was apologize, to explain, and if I could get this over with, I would.
“He died two months ago,” I spit out when shocked silence thickened the air. “You weren't around, and like usual, I didn't have a number to reach you.”
Mandy flinched from the cold anger in my tone.
“I've been busy.”
“And while you were busy finding a new pocketbook to sink your teeth into, your son died.”
My vehemence was palpable, a living, breathing thing rolling off my heated skin. Chelsea's hand fell from my back like I'd burned her. I was done with this shit.
She stepped away from me and I reached out, gripping her wrist as Mandy said, “I've been working.”
I pulled my eyes off Mandy long enough to see Chelsea planning her escape, her eyes wet and focused on the front door. “Wait. Please.”
I didn't deserve it. When she turned to me, I knew she wouldn't. I could already see I'd lost her.
She showed me everything. How those two fucking careless words had raked through her skin. Pain, sorrow, anger. I saw it all, and when she blinked, I saw that everything she'd felt for me had just been crushed in my fucking idiotic palm.
I threw a Hail Mary pass. Something she'd said to me long ago. With my eyes, I pleaded with her, not caring that Mandy was watching.
“Whatever I need,” I whispered, barely above a breath.
She yanked her hand out of my grip and scoffed. “I think we're past that.”
I wanted to argue with her. Pull her to me and not let her go, but Mandy's shrill voice cut through the thickness.
“Who
are
you?”
Chelsea flexed her fingertips, taking a step back and down the stairs, closer to Mandy and away from me. I could no longer blame her.
This had been a cluster fuck of epic proportions and I'd handled all of it in the worst way imaginable.
“Nobody important,” Chelsea told her as she passed her. “But I'm sorry about Derrick, he was a great kid.”
I called to her, but was frozen in place, unable to chase after her. I didn't deserve her. Not after that.
She didn't look back. She grabbed her purse and rushed out the door.
“You need to go.” I glared at Mandy and crossed my arms over my chest. Like every time she swooped into town, expecting to pretend to be a perfect little family for as long as it suited her purposes, she'd ruined everything.
Except this time, the blame was all on me.
“Can I take the guest room? It's rather late.”
Jesus. She was clueless. She hadn't even asked
how
her son had died. Or when. Like always, he was quickly forgotten.
“No.” I walked past her and opened the front door. “Get out. We can talk about Derrick tomorrow. Come by and I'll be here, but if you want to actually know what in the fuck happened to my son, then go get a hotel room. You're not welcome here.”
I flipped my phone around in my hands, tossed it back and forth. It'd been an hour since I'd finally gotten Mandy out the door. She'd broken down in tears, huge, fake, Oscar-worthy tears, when I'd told her to get a hotel room. I didn't have time for her shit, so I went to the kitchen and grabbed a beer, drinking it in there while she threw her fit.
Now I wanted nothing more than to fix what I'd done to Chelsea.
But this wasn't the time for a phone call or a text. It needed to be done in person.
I'd give her the night. I'd go see her tomorrow. And I wouldn't stop until she listened.
Not until I could convince her to forgive me, just one last time.