by R. J. Lewis
“If you expect me to sleep in that, you will be joining me,” I interrupt him.
We silently get ready for bed—which means I have to go back to the bathroom. I still have my travel soaps from when we left Victoria in my purse. I pull them out and scrub my face and neck clean. Because this trip was so unexpected, I have no spare change of clothes, so I peel my top and shorts off and slide into bed in just my bra and panties. Aidan is more daring than I. He takes a quick shower in that godawful bathroom, and I hear him hissing about there not being any hot water. He’s in and out in five minutes and slides in next to me in just his briefs. He drenches his side of the bed and then me as he brings an arm around me and pulls me into his side. I turn around so that I’m facing him, and we look at each other in the dim, flickering light, saying nothing for a while.
“You smell like roses,” I murmur.
“Motel soap,” he says. “Do I smell cheap?”
I wrinkle my nose. “You don’t smell expensive.”
He chuckles. “We’ll be back home come morning.”
My heart tugs at the word home. “I’m in no hurry.”
He quirks a brow, amused. “You look miserable.”
“Me? No way. I’m having the time of my life. We should do this more often.”
Just then, the walls vibrate with music next door. Screeching lyrics follow.
“Nothing like a bit of Death Metal at this hour,” he says.
“It’s a lullaby.”
He smirks. “So positive.”
“I have to be. The second I focus on the negatives is the second it starts to multiply.”
Negativity is like a nasty, contagious infection. It spreads and doesn’t stop until it gets into everything.
“You’re strong, you know,” he mutters solemnly just then, brown eyes searing into mine. “To have put up with my shit temper for so long.”
“I actually feel bad for you. I am not a very good assistant,” I admit.
He smiles, though it’s pierced with sadness. “Perhaps it’s not your calling, but…I can’t imagine anyone else by my side.”
“Yeah, literally.” I give him a pointed look. “Making me sit beside you—”
“I admit, I was being greedy.”
“Oh, so you did that purposely for your own pleasure.”
He nods, squeezing my hip. “I’m a selfish man. Even now I want you all to myself. You…are a very addictive woman.”
I give him a doubtful look. “My hopelessness is so addictive—”
“You’re caring,” he cuts in. “You’re soft and yet rough around the edges. You’re positive, and you kept going no matter the hurdles I threw at you, you just kept going, and I suspect, with how difficult I was, you had the urge to run—I would have run, I think, if I had to be around an insufferable asshole like me, but, Ivy, I liked you from the start.”
I study him, the sincere expression on his face tugging further at my heart. “You…you said you hated me.”
His lips pull down in a frown. “I did, but that was before I truly understood what that feeling was. It felt like hate because it was strong and vicious. But I’ve come to realize it was another emotion altogether—it was passion. Sometimes they feel the same.”
“You were passionate about me?”
“I am,” he corrects. “I felt like…you were mine, and seeing you around my brother for instance, or being alone in that suite, it triggered the most dominating response in me.” He sighs slowly, blinking hard at his internal thoughts now. “I’m not easy to be around, I know this. I’m not carefree like Alex, and maybe in another version of me I was, but…to be honest, I can’t help but feel I must have been putting on a front, just like I do every single day since I woke up in that hospital. I wear this mask. I don’t want people to think they’re getting to me. I don’t want them to know they have any control over my feelings. I do it to protect myself and because I’m hurting. Ruth sheltered me after my abuse, but she couldn’t remove the damage. It’s there, it still is, and letting anyone into my heart takes great difficulty. I physically find I can’t—won’t.” He swallows, eyes pinned to my mouth now. “But I want to, Ivy, I want to with you, and I truly believe I did before because…I can feel you sliding in again. I can feel it somewhere very deep, and it terrifies me.”
His words hang in the air for a few moments, and I reflect on them. My chest tightens with sympathy. I rest my hand on his cheek, lightly stroking him. “You’re afraid to let me in now, and you were afraid then—that hasn’t changed, but…I did.” It’s hard to form the right words now, but he’s watching me, waiting patiently for me to continue. I let out a slow breath, shutting my eyes briefly to say, “I hurt you because I told you to let down your walls. I convinced you I was ready for a relationship. You had held back, tried so hard to build a barrier between us until you were certain I was ready.” I look at him fiercely now. “Please understand, I truly thought I was prepared. I had no intention of hurting you—never—and I was over my marriage. I had nothing left for him, and I still don’t. I…” I pause, reflecting. “I don’t even know what he’s doing right now because I’m done, I closed that chapter and have never looked back once, but…I was hurting. I…” My throat closed, and I tried to swallow. “I missed my baby girl.”
I don’t look at Aidan now, but his grip on my hip tightens again, this time in an effort to comfort me. I let go of his cheek and idly rest my hand on my lower belly where the scar is. I trace it, feeling a sadness flow through me I will never be capable of expressing into words.
“You wanted everything with me,” I whisper now, suppressing the tears. “I…I got scared. I couldn’t revisit the hurt of losing her, and what if…what if I wasn’t ready to open my heart again bringing another life into the world, and, look, you never talked kids or anything of that sort, but a woman…we go through an entire lifetime in a single moment.”
I place my hand on his hard chest now, tracing circles, admitting in a rush, “I was stupid to push you away and need time, and it led to a lot of things I feel responsible for—your crash being one of them. I often think you never would have been driven to that precipice if I had just stuck around and stayed with you, and yet…I feel like I wouldn’t have known myself as well as I did on my own. Those months were crucial for me. I got to adjust being away from Derek, got to be alone, truly alone, and used to my own company, and…I got to talk about Isabella without feeling every part of me shut down. In fact…” A tear escapes my eye and slides down my face. “I can talk about her with pride. She was beautiful. Just…so beautiful, Aidan, and holding her however brief of a time I had her is worth all this sorrow.” I swallow, sucking in a breath of air though my lungs feel tight. “She existed for a blink of a moment out here in the real world, but she exists inside my heart forever. I carry her with me always.”
A few more tears slide down, but no more than that. The sorrow doesn’t make me as breathless as before. The pain is always fresh—the loss is always there—but I am able to live through it and think fondly of her time with me. And that’s the progress I made being on my own, and now that I think about it, perhaps I did the right thing needing space.
Aidan brushes the tears, face grave and tender. “Thank you for telling me about her, Ivy.”
I move even closer to him, and it’s not closer still. He seems to feel the same way. We hold each other tightly, like two hurt souls clutching for the other.
And then we lay there, in the heat, listening to Death Metal on a creaky bed that smells like musty old newspaper.
And you know what?
I wouldn’t be anywhere else.
Thirty-One
Ivy
The sound of a car alarm wakes me, not that I was fast asleep anyway. The smell and heat in this room is on my skin and in my nose and gave me a headache for hours.
I run my hands on the mattress, searching for Aidan. When I hit air, I bolt upright, looking for him in the darkness. I feel a faint breeze from the door, and I whip my
head to it. It’s wide open, and the alarm is still going off, and Aidan is not here.
I slip out of bed immediately.
As I approach the door, I can hear the altercation before I see it. Aidan’s seething, his voice so angry, it makes my skin prickle. I cautiously step out, stopping by the door as I look below. My heart takes a nosedive when I see a group of hooded men circled around Aidan.
I can hear their curses, one has a crowbar in his hands, clutching it tight as he points a finger into Aidan’s chest. Aidan is growling back, telling them to fuck off from his car or else they’ll be crawling to the hospital.
“Aidan…” My voice is too quiet for him to hear, and I don’t get the chance to repeat myself.
The man with the crowbar swings, slamming into Aidan’s side, and he goes to do it again, but Aidan steps into him, smashing his fist against the man’s face, dropping him straight on the ground. The other figures don’t skip a beat, lunging on Aidan, sending him to the ground. The struggle is loud, fists hitting flesh and Aidan’s growls ripping through the air. I’m already in the room, searching for my phone to call the police. I’m in the middle of dialling, running straight back out—
Aidan’s no longer on the ground. He’s got the crowbar in his hands and he mercilessly swings at the hooded men. It hits one body, and a pained yelp flies from the man’s mouth. The others step back as he raises the crowbar out at them.
“Well, come on then,” he growls. “You fucking wanted this. Let’s get it over with!”
But they don’t.
They take one look at the two men on the floor and scatter—all three of them—into the night. I’m clutching the phone so tight, my hand hurts. I watch Aidan as he steps over the men and returns to me. He knows I’m standing there, but he’s too angry to say a word. He paces past me and into the room, the crowbar still tight in his hand.
“Time to get out of here,” he says. “Quickly before they come back with weapons.”
I race into the room and grab my purse and clothes. I don’t bother dressing. We fly down the steps and into the car. Aidan rests the crowbar on his lap as he turns the car on and drives out of there. It’s only when we’ve turned a corner and are on the main roads does he wind the window down and throw the crowbar out.
*
He doesn’t speak for a long time.
I can feel his pulsing anger, and I know the last thing he wants to do is talk.
It’s still night-time, and the roads are dark because we’re so far out from civilization. I glance out the window, at the dense forest. I can faintly make out the mountains, but sometimes it’s so black, it feels endless.
I look over at Aidan, trying to make him out. He keeps running his tongue along his bottom lip, and I have to lean forward to get a better look at him. He’s got a fat lip and it’s bleeding.
“You’re hurt,” I say, worriedly.
He blinks faintly. “Yeah.”
“How bad?”
“Not too bad.”
“Can you pull over so I can have a look?”
He must be feeling hurt because he does pull over on the side of the deserted road a few moments later. I turn on the interior light and lean over to him, hooking my finger under his chin. I make him look at me, and my heart dips painfully in my chest because his face is swelling. There’s a bruise under his eye already forming, and his cheek is red and split open along the cheekbone. His nose made it unscathed, but his bottom lip is bruised and bleeding profusely. It’s leaked down his chin and there are a few blood streaks on his chest.
“Jesus, Aidan.”
I bend down and grab at my purse I placed between my legs. I open it quickly and leaf through the shit. Why do I always have to fill my bags until they’re bulging with useless shit?
I pull out travel wipes and tear it open. I crawl over to him, climbing into his lap to clean him up. He watches me with tired eyes as I run the wipe over every cut and bruise, feeling terrible for him.
“Don’t be disappointed in me,” he murmurs, intensely eyeing me now. “I had to fight back. I would have let them have the fucking car, I didn’t care for it, but when I heard the alarm, I thought a raccoon set it off. I went out there, and they were already prying at the door, jamming at the window lining with that crowbar and trying to bust into it with a slim jim—which, don’t get me started, is outdated as fuck. I…I wasn’t too happy about it, and I wouldn’t have instigated a fight if it weren’t for the fact they already started to circle me, threatening all kinds of violence. Punk kids in a tiny town roaming the streets, but it’s my fault for having this kind of car in those kinds of neighbourhoods. Not my finest moment.”
I listen to him, not interrupting him as he desperately explains himself…as if he needs to.
“Why the hell would I be disappointed in you?” I wonder after he pauses.
He searches for words, frowning now. “Because…you won’t think I’m like him. And I want you to think that I am. I never thought I’d feel such intense jealousy over a past version of myself, Ivy, but there it is. It’s the truth, and I hate all my edges, but I never would have went looking for violence—”
I cut him off with a kiss. It’s gentle but deep. I taste his blood and don’t stop, running my fingers into his hair as I kiss him as passionately as I can muster.
I pull back to look at him, staring into his eyes as I whisper, “You are him. You are…you. I want no one else.”
His eyes, sad and raw, look into mine, searching for honesty. I let him see my sincerity, and he drops his forehead to mine. His hands run up my still bare back and one curls into my hair. He fists my hair and kisses me again, deeply, thoroughly.
I break free of his mouth when he hardens, shaking my head at him. “You’re hurting.”
“I’m fine.” He catches my mouth against his again, slipping his tongue between my lips. “I want you, Ivy Montcalm. So badly.”
I kiss him back, melting into him as he runs his hands everywhere, leaving a burning trail behind. I touch him, too. I run my hands down his chest, one grazes over his hardness, and the other clutches at his sides—
He hisses, jerking under my touch, and I pull away completely now, breathing heavily as I stare down at where my hand is. There’s a gigantic bruise along his ribs.
“Goddammit,” I curse. “Why didn’t you tell me you’re hurt—”
“One hit me with that fucking crowbar.” He pinches his lips together, irritably. “It fucking hurt, I tell you that. Made me feel all kinds of rage.”
“Are your ribs broken?”
“Probably bruised—”
“Aidan.”
“Shh.” He grips my hair again. “Look at me.” When I do, he bumps his forehead to mine again. “I’m alright, I promise.”
I frown, saying nothing. I don’t let him kiss me again—I worry he’s in too much pain and hiding it. I slide off him and return to my seat as he starts to drive again, heading back. I slip my clothes on and keep the window down, my hand out. The wind whips around it as I stare up at the night sky.
I rest my head against the seat of the car and shut my eyes.
Thirty-Two
Ivy
“You look like an abuse victim,” Alex says, smirking at Aidan from across the kitchen. “Either you really got jumped, or Ivy’s been playing dominatrix behind my back, and that would wound me, Ivy. To have hidden such a huge part of yourself from me.”
I shoot Alex a dry look as I eat my bagel, watching them interact. Alex arrived a couple days after our disastrous Moose Lodge stay, and he’s been remarkably lighter than he was the day he left to handle his grandmother’s affairs. I sense he’s come to peace with something grand because he smiles at his older brother, when not too long ago he would have happily flipped him off.
“Perhaps I’ll leave you hanging in suspense,” Aidan murmurs, taking a sip out of his coffee.
Alex doesn’t drink coffee—because he’s a mutant health freak and that just makes me sick to my stomach he can be
so stingy in life and forgo basic joys like caffeine. Instead, he’s drinking some green milkshake, one he made in his hotel kitchen.
“Stop glaring at my drink,” he bites at me, reading my thoughts. “This is good shit, Ivy.”
“It looks like cow vomit.”
He chokes on a gulp, laughing. “So fucking judgy.”
“I’m actually looking at a business to do with cow vomit like that,” Aidan says, eyeing Alex carefully. “If you’re interested, you can take a look at it.”
Alex makes a thoughtful hum. “Is it a chain?”
“God no.”
“What does the owner want?”
“She’s mismanaging her costs. There’s a lot of fat she can trim—”
“She?” Now he’s interested. “Tell me about her.”
Aidan blinks slowly. “She’s not your type, Alex, and fucking a business partner is strictly forbidden—”
“I didn’t say I’d do that.”
“Plus, she’s sixty.”
Alex smiles devilishly. “Age is just a number.”
Now it’s my turn to choke around my coffee. “Alex—”
“I kid, I kid,” he quickly says, looking exasperated. “You guys are so serious all of a sudden, or hungover from a very late night…”
I smirk into my coffee, saying nothing. Aidan looks amused, briefly tossing a look my way. He’s so sexy this morning. The whole dress down business look suits him. I can tell he is feeling the same way about me, but I refuse to dress down if it means I get to keep getting looks like these.
Alex eventually migrates into the office with Aidan to discuss the health business with him, and I take some time to myself to call my mother up—our monthly calls get longer and longer it feels—and then Ana.
“I’m coming out soon, bitch,” she tells me. “Get ready to party.”