by Elle Kennedy
“I’d better be,” he muttered.
Another male voice boomed from behind as a man with a dark buzz cut and the body of an action hero strode inside. “Where’s Jane?” he demanded. “I’ve been waiting downstairs for twenty min—oh you’ve got to be kidding me.”
The newcomer stared at Matt’s and Aidan’s faces and swore. “For the love of Jesus, do you guys require twenty-four hour supervision? Every time I turn around one of you gets into a brawl!”
Jane pushed her way through the group and threw her arms around the man’s neck. “Oh, relax, Beck. They were doing it for fun tonight. Now say hi to Claire. Claire, this is my husband, Thomas Becker.”
Claire eyed the imposing man for a moment, wondering how someone as easygoing and boisterous as Jane had wound up with someone so intense. “It’s nice to meet you,” she said, extending a hand.
“Claire is Aidan’s girlfriend,” Jane told her husband.
“Nice to meet you.” Becker shook her hand before turning to his wife. “I’ve been waiting downstairs for a while. I tried to call to let you know I was picking you up early, but you weren’t answering your phone.”
“Oh, shoot, it must have been on silent. Sorry, hon.” Jane leaned up on her tiptoes and kissed his square jaw. “How much longer do we have the sitter for?”
Becker’s dark eyes flickered with heat. “An hour and a half.”
The next thing Claire knew, the couple was practically sprinting out the door with the quickest of goodbyes, which made everyone laugh.
The other women stuck around to hug Savannah and thank her for having them over, and a few minutes later, the group descended the narrow steps leading to the ground floor of Savannah’s building. Outside, the night air was brisk, making Claire wish she’d brought a coat. Goose bumps rose on her bare arms, and she shivered as she followed Aidan to his SUV.
“Call me,” Jen told her when they reached the curb. “We’ll have lunch this week.”
“Sounds good,” Claire answered.
She hugged the blonde goodbye, then did the same with Miranda, Holly and Annabelle, who all piled into the Jeep waiting at the curb. Claire didn’t recognize the dark-haired man behind the wheel, but from the big kiss Annabelle gave him as she slid into the passenger side, Claire deduced it was Ryan Evans, Annabelle’s fiancé.
“I can’t believe you and Matt got into a fist fight tonight,” Claire grumbled once she and Aidan were alone in the car.
“Well, technically it was more of boxing match.”
She glared in the face of his dimpled smile. “I told you you’re not allowed to use those dimples to distract me.”
“What about my mouth? Can I use that to distract you?”
Before she could blink, he leaned over the center console and kissed her. His tongue slipped through her parted lips, teasing and exploring and successfully making her forget all about his brawling—at least until she tasted blood in her mouth.
She broke the kiss and sighed. “Why are boys so dumb? How is kicking the shit out of each other an enjoyable pastime?”
“Sometimes it feels good to release some aggression,” he said with a shrug.
“Well, I’d prefer you release it in a way where there’s no possibility of you actually getting hurt.”
“I didn’t get hurt.” He smiled. “But it’s nice to know you care.”
“Of course I care.”
Aidan started the engine and steered away from the curb. “You think Dylan and Jackson are still wrapped up in their video game?”
“God, I hope not.” Her hand covered his over the gearshift, and she seductively stroked his knuckles. “But if they are, then it’s his loss, because the second we get home, you and I are locking the bedroom door and fucking each other senseless.”
He gave a husky laugh. “Sounds like a plan.”
“And we should be extra loud so Dylan knows exactly what he’s missing.”
They came to a stop at a red light, and suddenly the mood in the car shifted from lighthearted to serious as Aidan turned to her with imploring dark eyes. “Are you happy, Claire?”
She wrinkled her brow. “Of course.”
“Really, truly happy?” he pressed.
“Really, truly happy,” she said softly.
His gaze continued to probe her face, and then a sweet smile tugged on his lips. “So am I.”
“Good.” She smiled back. “Now let’s go home.”
Chapter Seventeen
Three months later
“Did Natasha make her flight?”
Claire slid under the covers and nestled next to Aidan, who slung his arm around her and began stroking her hair. The only light in the bedroom came from the red numerals on the alarm clock, which showed that it was nearly one a.m.
“Yeah, I managed to get her to the airport on time,” she replied. “Barely.”
“I told you going to that late movie was a mistake. You cut it way too close.” He grinned. “I was totally expecting to have a hot lesbian in our guest room for another night.”
Claire laughed. “Nat wouldn’t have minded that at all. She absolutely loved you guys. I really wish she’d gotten to spend more time with Dylan, though.”
“Next time,” Aidan said lightly. “She already promised she’d be back in June.”
“Yeah, but June is so far away.”
She was so bummed to see her friend go. Natasha’s return flight from Sierra Leone had barely landed before she’d gotten on another plane to visit Claire. They’d spent every possible minute together this past week, and Claire had loved every second of it. She’d missed Natasha’s wacky personality and outrageous sense of humor, not to mention her unconditional love and support.
And Claire hadn’t lied just now—Natasha had adored Aidan and Dylan. She loved them so much, in fact, she’d even joked about “converting” to straight just so she could steal them away from Claire. Natasha’s blessing had meant the world to her, especially since her parents continued to deny her their approval.
But in spite of that, Claire didn’t regret her decision to stay in San Diego with Aidan and Dylan. Living with them was better than she’d ever dreamed it would be. They took turns cooking and doing chores. They never ran out of things to say. They went out to dinner, watched movies, hung out at the beach. And at least once a week, they were surrounded by friends—swimming at Cash and Matt’s place, Super Bowl party at Jen’s apartment, dinner at Seth and Miranda’s.
She no longer thought of everyone as Dylan’s friend, or Aidan’s buddy. They were her friends too now, even Savannah, whose good-humored sarcasm and carpe diem attitude had eventually won Claire over—though the blonde’s grudging confession that Claire was good for Aidan hadn’t hurt, either.
She still couldn’t believe how easily everyone had welcomed her into the fold. She was involved in a committed ménage a trois, for Pete’s sake. Yet they were all taking it in stride, as if a relationship between three people was a normal, commonplace occurrence. Even Dylan’s mother accepted the arrangement, which was the most surprising thing of all. When Shanna had visited last month, she hadn’t batted an eye when she’d witnessed the easy affection that existed between the three of them.
Now, Claire rested her head on Aidan’s bare chest and listened to the steady beating of his heart, suddenly overcome with a feeling of tranquility. The only thing missing was Dylan’s hard body pressed up behind her, and his absence was a constant source of worry for her.
Dylan’s SEAL team had been called to action three days ago, and although Aidan assured her the lack of contact was normal, she still hated not knowing where Dylan was or whether he was okay. She had no idea how Jen or Miranda or Savannah handled their men’s abrupt departures and subsequent radio silence without falling into pieces. At least Claire had Aidan to distract her—the other wives and girlfriends didn’t have a second man they adored holding their hand through such a stressful time.
God, she wished Dylan would come home already. She knew
Aidan longed for the same, even though he put on that strong, stoic front of his. Truth was, it just didn’t seem right when the three of them weren’t together.
“Do you think he’s all right?” Her soft question hung in the bedroom.
Aidan squeezed her shoulder. “I’m sure he’s just fine. Dylan’s hardcore, baby. You tend to forget that, because he’s so relaxed and cheerful all the time, but trust me, our boy can take care of himself and then some.”
She smiled. Our boy. She loved it when Aidan said stuff like that.
“I just hate not knowing. It’s so frustrating.” She sighed. “When Nat and I visited Savannah at her shop yesterday, she said the waiting and worrying isn’t so bad after a while, but I can’t imagine not freaking out whenever he gets called off on some dangerous mission.”
“I know. It sucks,” Aidan said simply. “But Savannah’s right, you do get used to it. Now, the thing that’s really going to suck? Is when he gets deployed.”
That hadn’t even occurred to her. “When does that happen?”
“I’m not sure which stage of the deployment cycle the team’s in, but I imagine it’ll happen at the end of the year sometime, and then they’ll be gone for six months.”
“You’re right, that will suck,” she said unhappily.
“Yeah, but you’ll still have me.” He slid down the mattress and rolled onto his side so they were lying face-to-face, but the second he leaned in to kiss her, the phone on the bedside table rang.
Groaning, Aidan grabbed the cordless. One glance at the caller ID, and a frown marred his lips.
“Who is it?” Claire asked.
“I don’t recognize the number, but it’s a Chicago area code.” He sat up and answered with a brusque hello, then went quiet as he listened. “No, Veronica, of course I remember you. What’s going on?”
Claire felt a flicker of distress as she studied Aidan’s expression. His dark eyes had filled with concern, and it wasn’t long before his face turned paler than the sheet beneath them.
“I’ll be on the first flight out,” he blurted into the receiver, and then he was no longer on the bed.
Claire was momentarily stunned as she watched him run around the bedroom like a madman, in search of some clothes. Then she snapped out of it and flew off the mattress. She rushed over to him, stilling his frantic movements by clutching his shoulders. “What’s going on? What happened?”
“I have to go.” He ducked out of her grip and snatched a pair of sweatpants from the easy chair under the window.
“Aidan. Damn it, tell me what’s going on.”
“My father had a heart attack.”
She gasped. “Oh my gosh. Is he okay?”
“No.”
The desolation in his voice tore at her insides.
“His girlfriend says they’re taking him into surgery tomorrow for a triple bypass, to apparently ‘alleviate the obstruction’, whatever that means.” He continued to dress in a hurry, his panic thickening the air. “He had a heart attack a few years back, but he told me he was doing fine. He never said a goddamn word about…” Aidan swore softly. “I have to check the flights…and call a cab…and I have to…”
He trailed off, his eyes so wild Claire snapped into action.
She marched up to him and grasped his chin this time. “Aidan. Hey. It’s going to be fine.”
His blank expression was a tad worrying. “What?”
“I’ll handle the flight, okay?” She was already grabbing her laptop from the end table. “I’ll take care of everything you need, baby.”
The endearment slipped out without warning. It was the first time she’d called him that, and it seemed to shake him out of the numb trance he’d fallen into.
“Go make yourself a cup of coffee,” she ordered. “You need the caffeine.”
Twenty minutes later, Claire found him pacing the kitchen with a mug in his hand.
“All right, your flight leaves in two hours. We have just enough time to get you to the airport before the check-in counter closes.” She held up the sheet of paper she’d printed in his office. “This is your confirmation. Come on, let’s go.”
Aidan blinked, startled. “You’re coming with me?”
“Just to the airport.” Her lips tightened in displeasure. “There was only one seat left on the plane. I could have booked us on the next flight, but it leaves five hours from now and I know you want to get there as soon as possible.”
His gorgeous eyes flickered with an emotion she couldn’t make out. “You would have gone all the way to Chicago with me?”
“Of course.”
He placed his mug on the counter, and she noticed his hand was shaking. “Why? Why would you do that?”
With purposeful steps, she crossed the kitchen and stroked his stubble-covered jaw. “Haven’t you figured it out by now? I’d do anything for you.” She smiled. “I love you, silly.”
Surprise, pleasure and awe flooded his face, along with a flash of uncertainty that had Claire immediately regretting saying those words. Not because she didn’t mean them, but because now wasn’t the time. In fact, it was the worst time to drop an L-bomb, when his mind was on his father, when his shoulders were rigid with fear.
Not only that, but she didn’t want to put him in a position where he was forced to say it back before he was ready.
Which was why she quickly gave him a kiss on the cheek and took a step back. “Come on, time to go, baby. I didn’t break nearly enough speeding laws on my first trip to the airport tonight. But the second time’s the charm, right?”
It was eleven o’clock the next morning when Aidan finally walked into the hospital. He’d come straight from the airport and wasted no time in stalking up to the nurses’ station and demanding to know which room his father was in.
After he got the information he wanted, he took off like a light toward the elevator bank. The nurse had told him his father was in the ICU, and as he rode the elevator, his heart was pounding so fast he feared it might actually stop. Wouldn’t that be just fucking ironic. Father and son bonding over heart attacks.
He felt like a total slob in sweatpants, a ratty black hoodie and cross-trainers, but had to chide himself for giving a shit about his appearance when his father was about to go in for triple bypass surgery.
When the elevator dinged open, he hurried down the fluorescent-lit corridor toward yet another nurses’ station, where he had to show his ID in order to be taken to his father’s room. He hadn’t thought the intensive-care unit enforced its “family only” policy so strictly, but apparently it did, and as he and the nurse passed by the waiting area, Aidan was startled to see a familiar face.
“Wait,” he said abruptly. “That’s my father’s wife waiting in there. You have to let her in to see him.”
The nurse frowned. “She said she was his girlfriend.”
“Yeah, well, she’s his wife,” Aidan lied. He signaled to Veronica Hanson, who jumped up when she spotted him.
Veronica was a pretty woman in her fifties, with blonde hair streaked with gray and kind blue eyes that were brimming with tears. “Aidan!” she burst out.
The next thing he knew, he was enveloped in a breath-stealing embrace by a woman he’d only met once. Bringing his lips close to her ear, he murmured, “Play along”, then pulled back and glanced at the nurse. “Veronica and my dad got married a few months ago. She just hasn’t had the chance to go through the whole name-change process yet.”
“So much paperwork,” Veronica murmured.
The nurse eyed them suspiciously before shrugging in resignation. “Follow me.”
She led them through a pair of restricted doors, then down another long hallway until finally coming to a stop in front of his father’s room.
“He can only have one visitor at a time,” she said briskly. “His cardiologist should be here shortly to discuss the surgery.”
After the nurse left, Aidan turned to Veronica and said, “How is he? Did the doctors at least tell you a
nything?”
She nodded miserably. “They said he went into cardiac arrest twice in the last four hours. They’re worried he might not be stable enough to undergo the surgery.”
“What happens if he doesn’t have the surgery?” Aidan asked grimly.
Her anguished expression said it all.
Choking on the lump in his throat, he turned to the window of his dad’s room, but the blinds were drawn so he couldn’t see inside.
“Go,” Veronica urged. “You’re his son. You should see him first.”
He hesitated. Christ, he didn’t want to walk into that room. Didn’t want to see his father lying there, hooked up to machines. Their encounters were sad enough as it was.
But he had no choice. This was his father, for chrissake.
Taking a breath, Aidan opened the door and walked inside.
Tim Rhodes was lying on a hospital bed in the middle of the private room. His dark hair, still full and free of gray, looked greasy and unkempt. His dark eyes were closed but snapped open at Aidan’s entrance.
“Aidan,” his dad said gruffly.
As he approached the bed, he grabbed the nearby metal chair and dragged it closer to his dad. Sitting was a damn good idea—his legs were close to buckling from seeing his father so pale and beaten.
“Hey, Dad.” He swallowed. “How’re you doing?”
“Still alive, so that’s something.” The attempt at humor fell flat, and neither man smiled at the joke.
“They said you need surgery.”
“If my heart is strong enough to allow it.”
Aidan’s throat was so tight he could barely force out any words, but he managed one wobbly question. “Were you having heart problems again?”
“None that I knew of. I’ve been taking care of myself ever since the last one five years ago. Eating right, exercising, I even quit smoking last year.”
It spoke volumes that Aidan hadn’t known that. Conversations in which they shared any part of their lives were few and far between, and his heart constricted painfully as he realized he hardly knew the man lying on the bed. This was his father, damn it, and he knew nothing about him.