On the Way to the Cabin
Page 4
Her lips parted with a gasp. “Say what?”
“Andrea. That’s A. Hampton. My cousin. She’s getting married.”
Lena slapped a hand over her gaping mouth and widened her eyes. Only for a second, though, likely too sensitive to the light, because she brought her other hand up to shield her eyes. “No.”
Word of the morning, huh? He nodded, holding back a smile at her alarm. “A. Hampton and M. Knight. Yeah, our first initials are the same, but it’s not me.”
She slit her eyes, hinting at outrage. “Who uses only initials on a wedding invite?”
He gave her a sheepish wince. “My cousin, apparently. Mom told me they did it on purpose, in case any ‘conservative’ relatives would be confused or offended to see Andrea and Melissa, two female names. You know how old-fashioned some folks can be…”
She dropped her arms, her glowering deadpan a sassy expression he’d always loved. “Offended? They shouldn’t have to make their invites homophobe-safe for the sake of old-fashioned geezers.”
“Agreed.” He cocked his head to the opposite side, considering her defense before he reiterated. “But it’s not me. I’m not engaged to anyone.”
And right back up flew her hands. One on her mouth and the other covering her forehead and part of her closed eyes. “Oh, my God…”
“Lena?” He reached for her arm and rubbed his thumb over her bicep.
Maybe her hangovers have matured to headaches and puking?
She stepped back and broke contact. With her hands lowered, she stared at him with that deer-in-the-headlights way. “I never would have blabbed all night about…about…” She rushed to the bathroom and shut the door. “Had I known, I never would have told you any of that!”
He zoned out, staring at the closed door until the water kicked on.
Why? He couldn’t see a reason why she’d want to keep it a secret for even longer.
Turning from the bathroom door, he laughed mirthlessly at himself. “You are such a hypocrite.” Like he should talk. She’d at least taken the courage to tell him how she felt about him, and he’d never ever be man enough to reciprocate that admission.
Sitting on the bed, waiting for her to thaw into a human being again, he mulled over her regret for telling him. Obviously, if she’d kept her feelings to herself for many years, it had to take something big for her to tell him now.
Because she thought it didn’t matter. She thought I was getting married, so she’d already lost her chance. He respected her reasoning why she’d finally told him. Last night was nothing but a desperate information dump fueled by that cheapo wine from the motel’s shop.
It galled him to think of all that time she’d wanted him and never did a single thing about it. All those years of her never really dating or seeking out boyfriends. Wasted years.
And it was because of me.
Talk about a heavy weight. Now the burden of her truth sat like boulders on his shoulders. She’d said her piece and now he’d need to…well, say his response. He’d had an easy out last night when she passed out drunk. In the light of the day, though, he’d have to reply to her confession. It was out there. He couldn’t act like it hadn’t happened.
He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees, threading his fingers through his hair. “Talk about being in the hot seat.”
What was there to say? How could he acknowledge what she’d told him without making it worse? Because there was only one honest thing to clarify.
I’m not good enough for her.
His phone beeped, signaling an incoming call, and he welcomed the distraction from this Lena-loves-Aaron predicament. Shifting his hip, he leaned over enough to pull his cell out.
“Hey, sis.”
Molly let out a deep, exaggerated sigh. “Where are you guys? Jeez. Lena texted me last night that you guys had to get off the road and now she’s not answering her phone. What’s going on?”
“Uh…she’s a little hungover.”
Her laugh was rough. “A little? You know she’s an all-or-nothing drinker. She’s either sober or wasted.”
“Okay, she was wasted last night. We’re going to check out in”—he turned his wrist to check the time. “Seven minutes, Lena!” he yelled to the closed bathroom door. Then to Molly, he continued saying, “We’ll be on our way soon.”
“Okay. Maybe stop at a drive-thru for—”
He snorted. “Already did. Biscuits and gravy.”
“Oh.” Molly was silent for a beat and then asked, softly, “Are you okay? You sound…tired.”
“Didn’t sleep well last night.”
Molly made a humming noise of agreement. “She does snore sometimes when she’s drunk.”
She didn’t even think to joke that we were busy doing other stuff, sharing a room together. Even though we’re both single, it’s not even in her head that Lena and I could be…together.
Their unrequited love for each other truly was the stuff of secrets if Molly didn’t suspect anything—ever.
He replied, “No. Not that.” And she’d hardly made a sound once she’d really taken off into a deep slumber.
“Then, what is it?”
He reclaimed his slouched position, one elbow on a knee, and sighed. “Nothing.”
Nothing? Everything. Lena had tilted his very axis last night.
“Come on. Spill. I can tell something bad is on your mind.”
Smirking at the phone, he realized how oxymoronic that was. Lena loving him was nothing bad. It was an unbelievable gift. Not being allowed to return it was awful though.
“Have you ever wondered why Lena never dates?”
Her quick scoff told him he’d at least succeeded in surprising her. “Where is that coming from?”
“Have you?”
“No.”
So she does know? She knew all these years that Lena was…waiting for me?
“I just assume she’s picky and isn’t interested in the whole dating thing. And you know how shy she is.”
“She dated Todd.”
Molly laughed once. “Um, yeah. Like, for a week. Besides, that was more just for the sake of saying she was with a guy—silly teenager stuff. She was never really into him. Anyway, he’s gay, and happily married with twins coming soon.”
Which explained why Lena had acted so confused—despite the wine—when he’d idiotically assumed she’d meant Todd was her lost one and only.
“You’re winging way out of left field with this stuff. Todd? Why are you even thinking about high school? That was years ago.”
“Just…on my mind.”
“O-kay. Well, get on the road and come on up to the cabin. Our weekend’s already going to be halfway over!”
As the water shut off in the bathroom, he checked his watch again. Even if Molly wasn’t urging them to come to the cabin ASAP, they did need to check out.
“We’ll see you soon.”
He hung up and stood, pocketing his phone.
“Four minutes!”
“Okay!” Lena sassed from behind the bathroom door.
Once Lena emerged from the small room, frowning and rubbing her head, he felt bad for even raising his voice to alert her of their rush. He wanted to make sure she had enough time and space to shower, and hide, maybe. But he’d cut it awfully close letting her sleep for so long.
She needs more rest, but still, we gotta go.
“Here, I’ll take your bag.”
Without meeting his eye, she nodded. “Thanks.”
In a swift transaction, he handed her the to-go bag of gravy and biscuits, and she held out her backpack. With two bags over one shoulder, he offered her the puffy gray coat she refused to ever replace—which was somehow still as inflated as a pool floatie. After one last survey of the room to make sure they weren’t forgetting anything, he led the way to the hallway.
“Oww.” She slouched toward the support of the hallway wall, shielding her eyes from the fluorescent lights overhead.
“I grabbed your sung
lasses from the car when I picked up breakfast earlier. They’re in your coat pocket.”
“Thanks.”
It was the least he could do.
“You are driving, right?” she asked as they exited.
“Kind of a silly question, isn’t it?”
She sneered at him and walked outside.
Within an hour of being on the semi-plowed road, she was out again. Curled up in the passenger seat, she slept soundly. He sighed, glancing at her for a beat, and then reached back for the blanket he’d noticed folded on the seat. Once he’d draped it over her and settled into the drive, he couldn’t help but fall back into his thoughts.
After such a huge bombshell from her lips, he didn’t know what to think. But as he tried to let her confession make sense in his head, darting what-ifs attacked his conviction that he wasn’t good enough for her.
No matter how he’d word anything, no matter how much she seemed to view him with rose-colored glasses, she’d never think highly of him after he explained that he’d caused the accident that ruined her life.
Regardless of the impossibility of a happy ending, he killed the drive entertaining pointless rehearsals.
So, um, I was the one who texted Todd when he was driving. It’s my fault that you’re not a professional skater and living the life you’d always dreamed of.
Too blunt. But it was the whole, ugly truth.
Back in high school, Todd was the junior varsity hockey captain. As the varsity captain, Aaron had to check in with that punk often. And he had done so via texts, like any teens might. If he’d known Todd was in the car driving, he never would have pursued that particular line of whatever petty thing they’d been arguing about. If he’d known that his simple message could endanger his girl—how he’d always viewed Lena even though she was way too young for him at the time—he never would have even contacted Todd.
But he had.
Sure, he wasn’t at the wheel. He didn’t tell Todd to reply to his messages right then. Todd was a big boy and should have known better. But as everyone on their hockey team knew, Todd was a brown-noser and ass-kisser, and he’d made it no secret he was obsessed with getting Aaron’s approval on their team. It made perfect sense to Aaron that Todd would have replied to his texts as soon as possible. And for that reason, he’d never been able to shake the shame and guilt for basically causing that accident.
There was just no way Lena would want anything to do with him, even after all this time, if she knew he was the culprit for so much pain.
Stuck in that train of thought, he recalled all those visits to see her. Once he’d heard about the accident, he and Molly both went to see her. Then after the details of the accident were shared, he drowned in secret blame.
All those times he’d brought her snacks since she hated the hospital food. Or when he’d come to watch The Office with her when new episodes aired, since it was her favorite show. Any chance he could, he’d taken it to see her and bring her whatever small comfort might sway her from being overwhelmed with her trauma.
She made a noise and shifted in her seat. With one hand on the wheel, he reached over to pull the slipping blanket back to her shoulders.
Rest easy, baby. I know you haven’t always.
So many surgeries. The better part of a year in rehab, strengthening her leg. Numerous pins and plates in her hip, femur, and tibia. Countless trials of teaching her how to adapt to a limb that had been mercilessly crushed in a vehicle. Looking at her now, and even back then post-recovery, at first glance, no one would know she’d been so broken and injured. Her wounds limited her range of mobility and strength, a verdict that ended her hopes of a demanding regimen of training for skating. Yet, she survived so boldly and with a determination he hadn’t stopped admiring her for. She’d even returned to skating and all the other sporty hobbies she shared with Molly—just no more chance of being a pro athlete.
And thank God you’re safe.
For months after the accident, he’d wallowed in anxiety, enduring nightmares of her being killed in the crash, or Todd seeking revenge for the incident.
It could have been so much worse.
At least she was alive. Healthy and satisfied with her life.
Except…
She hadn’t been content, obviously. She’d been limiting herself by pining for him, a fool who would never deserve her.
It would be crappy of him to let her hang on to that renewed dream. If she knew he wasn’t getting married, he didn’t want her hanging on to that ill-suited hope again.
And once she was awake, he’d have to break that news to her.
No matter how much it kills me.
Chapter Five
Lena woke up to a dull grayness. Actually, her stomach forced her out of a cozy nap, growling and cramping in hunger. Those biscuits and gravy—God, when hasn’t he been so attentive to me—were long gone.
Blinking the sleep from her eyes, she slid to a normal seated position, regretting her slouched posture. Her leg was stiff, nothing a little moving around wouldn’t cure.
“Welcome back,” Aaron drily quipped from the driver’s seat.
She turned him, confused for a moment when her flannel blanket escaped from her. Did I put this on? Good Lord, she’d been so sluggishly stupid this morning, she couldn’t remember much of getting into the car.
“How long have I been out?” she asked.
“Since I started driving.” His raised brows and cocky smile were familiar teases.
She scrunched up her nose at him and huffed. “Boring drive, then?”
He shrugged and quickly lost his smile.
Boring? How could she even try to dub it as boring? She’d dropped a planet-sized surprise on him, telling him she’d always loved him.
Oh…man, do I regret that. She glowered at the windshield, trying to place the blame on that nastily too-sweet wine. Alcohol or not, there’d been a drive to just tell him already. Figuring she had nothing to lose, and there wasn’t much she could try for saving face, it became a matter of why not? He was supposedly engaged and her affection for him should have been a strange bit of humor.
Yet, he was as single as she.
But infinitely quieter.
Although, she reasoned, as she fidgeted in her seat, her growling stomach irritating her as much as the need to pee was, she hadn’t exactly given him a chance to…reply. She’d passed out…twice.
“Sorry I’m being a lame copilot.”
“No problem.” He turned into the right lane and inhaled a long breath, like preparing for a blow. “I’ve had a lot of thoughts for company.”
Facing the passenger window, thank God, she winced. Oh, she bet he had a lot to wonder about after her confession. A burning heat spread up her face and she let the blanket fall to her lap.
What he must think… The unknown terrified her. And intrigued her.
“And some questions, too.”
She licked her lips, hating that she was hashing this situation out as an adult. There was no running or evading this talk. “Yeah?”
“One really, really important one.”
Drawing her lower lip between her teeth, she kept her voice neutral and repeated, “Yeah?”
“Can we stop for some lunch? Well, early dinner? I’m starved.”
She exhaled with a large dose of relief. That was easy. “Please.” Facing him and taking comfort in the fact he was smiling a bit, she peered at the console between them. “What? No Funyns? Or Good n’ Plenty?” He never made long trips without those oddly paired junk food staples.
“I do have some snacks in my bag but I didn’t want to stop to get them out. We’ve got gas. And it’s been hit-or-miss traffic.”
She glanced out her window again. The snow falling yesterday had only been a coming attraction. Wind whipped the white fluffs at a faster pace now. There had to be at least three more inches on the ground as they sped by. Unplowed snow thickened on the median markers as well.
“Nasty out there.”
Once they parked and exited her SUV, she realized exactly how bad the weather was. Her boots sank into more snow and Aaron skidded in his shoes as he headed toward the restaurant. Snow and ice. In all the years she and the Hamptons had made this drive to the cabin for their traditional weekend in the woods, she couldn’t recall the driving conditions ever being quite so perilous.
“After you,” Aaron said at the door, holding it open for her. Always the gentleman at heart, she knew his courtesy wasn’t anything unique. He was kind and polite to everyone. Yet, being in his direct consideration, after she’d laid her heart on the line…she felt…intimidated.
They were seated in no time at all. Since they knew what the other wanted to order, they took turns going to the bathroom while the server came and collected their menus.
Sitting across from each other, basking in the homey warmth of a roaring fire in the massive hearth nearby, she resumed her worrying.
He was too quiet, taking in the décor of the old-timey eatery, instead of talking with her. They’d never suffered awkward silences or pauses until now.
Whether it was the heat from the fire that made her increasingly uncomfortable or the yawning gap growing between them, she snapped. She couldn’t take his silence anymore. He had to have something to say.
Just as she opened her mouth to blurt something likely not well-thought-out, he beat her to it.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked like he’d been bottling the question for hours.
Too timid to meet his gaze, she watched him fold his large hands on the table. She could only burn and hesitate under his direct stare for so long—three seconds, it seemed, because she quickly laughed. At herself, really. “I did. Last night.”
He rolled his eyes and almost smiled. “Before that… Why didn’t you say something in the last…uh, fourteen years?”
“I was scared.”
She expected another soft, gentle smile. One of those calming expressions he had for her during hard times. Instead, he reared back in his seat. Gripping the edge of the table, he braced himself as he barked an incredulous laugh. “You? Scared?”