“Well,” I say. “I could tell you about this psychology class I’m taking. This week, we focused on abnormal psych, and I learned some interesting stuff about criminal behavior.”
Nearly imperceptibly, Mom turns her head toward me.
“Did you know that my professor used to work for the FBI?” I ask her.
“No.” Her voice lifts slightly. “Does he talk about his experience there?”
“Not often. But this week he did. In fact, he told us about this time he was shot at while hunting down a hardened criminal.”
“Really.” Mom turns completely toward me now. “What was the case about?”
“He couldn’t go into details. Except he said the man who shot him had been wanted for years. I think he was a spy.”
Mom gasps. “I saw something like this on TV once.”
I smile. “I’ll tell you all the details my professor shared with us, and we’ll try to unravel the mystery together.”
The tension in my mother’s face eases, and I feel like the weight of the world lifts off my shoulders. For just a moment, I have my mother back. And even if it’s just for an hour, that’s worth everything.
Mom takes longer to fall asleep than usual. I wait until I hear her breathing even out, and then I do what I always do—I wait another fifteen minutes to make sure she’s really asleep. Sometimes she jerks awake and can’t settle.
But tonight, thank God, she stays sleeping.
I stand up from the rocker quietly, grateful it doesn’t creak. I tiptoe across the bedroom floor and out the door, closing it quietly behind me.
When I reach the downstairs, I stop short in the open doorway to the den. The sight in front of me makes my heart lurch.
Ayden’s asleep on his back, his hands resting over his stomach. He never did shave today, and his dark scruff is so sexy my hand itches to reach out and touch it. His hat’s off and lying next to him on the couch cushion, and his mouth is slightly parted. I step closer until I can kneel down next to him.
I glance over at the TV and reach for the remote to turn off the movie, some popular action flick Ayden and I have watched together more than once.
I put the remote down on the coffee table. As I go to stand up, Ayden’s hand reaches out and circles my wrist. I turn back to find his clear blue eyes open and focused on me.
“Hey,” he says, his voice raspy with sleep.
“Hey, sleepyhead.” I reach out and brush his mess of dark hair off his forehead. “Sorry to wake you.”
With his hand still around my wrist, he tugs until I’m lying next to him on the couch.
“How’d it go?” he asks quietly.
I rest my head on his chest, the sound of his strong heartbeat a welcome respite to the storm that feels like it’s continuously blowing through my parents’ house.
“It was actually pretty good. We talked a lot.”
“Good.”
I exhale. “Ayden, I’m scared.”
He shifts so he can see my face. “Why?”
“What if she’s never going to be happy again? Ever since I moved back, I keep thinking I can help her. I even went to a therapy session with her once.”
“You did?” Ayden’s lips part in surprise. “You never told me. Not that it’s my business, of course.”
“I wanted to tell you, but my mom’s ashamed about going at all. She didn’t want anyone to know she went to therapy with her daughter. It wasn’t very productive though. You know I’m just worried about her.”
He rests his chin on top of my head. “I wish I knew what to suggest, Bella. I hate seeing you so twisted up inside over her pain.”
Just like always, his words alone soothe me. Knowing that he cares, that I don’t have to explain why I’m so invested in my mother’s life. His body next to mine is warm, and it’s here.
He runs his hand down my back, gently rubbing in circles. I know the gesture is meant to be comforting, but when he reaches the middle of my back where the ridge of my bra strap pokes through, his hand stills.
Clenching my teeth together, I lie motionless as Ayden quickly shifts his hand to my hair. He tugs at the elastic of my ponytail until it drops onto the floor next to us, and my hair falls loose around my shoulders.
“Taking this out will help your headache.” His hand rakes through my hair, and the sensations that course through me—holy shit, goosebumps pop up all over my body, and now I’m drooling.
That’s right—I actually drool on Ayden’s t-shirt.
Fuck. I try to wipe it off without him noticing, but when I feel his body shaking, I know I’m busted.
He’s still laughing when I force myself to look up and catch his eye.
“We all drool, Bella,” he says, and I smack him in the arm.
“Shut up.” I try to stand up, but his strong arm holds me in place. “It felt nice. I love having my hair touched. Apparently a little too much.”
His ocean blue eyes are like freaking lasers as he scans my face. “Bella—”
When his cell phone vibrates on the coffee table, we jump apart. I sit up as Ayden reaches for his phone.
“Little late for someone to be texting you,” I murmur. “Is everything all right?”
Ayden’s eyes drop to his phone screen. “Yep. It’s fine.”
I study the sudden flush in his cheeks. “Booty call, huh?”
His eyes find mine, and I force an awkward laugh as I stand. “Who was it? Jenny? Or Ashley? Or is there another woman I don’t know about?”
“B.” Ayden stands up and grabs my textbook before I can. “It’s nothing. Okay?”
I swallow. “That texter could be the answer to your dare. Don’t dismiss her so quickly.”
Before he can respond, I turn toward the door. “Let’s go get our coffee.”
Ayden and I step inside Al’s Coffee House in the town square. Like every Tuesday at whatever hour we manage to make it out of my parents’ house, we’re the only ones here.
Ayden orders us our usual—a coffee for him and hot chocolate for me, and we take seats in the corner, on the maroon couch that’s seen better days but is the most comfortable piece of furniture I’ve ever sat on.
“Tari and Peter are pretty strung out,” Ayden says in a clear effort to move our conversation back to neutral footing. “I don’t know how to help them.”
“Unless you can magically make them pregnant…” I start to say. I take a look at Ayden’s mischievous grin. “Don’t finish that thought out loud, please.”
He laughs. “I just meant that I feel bad they’re hurting, but I can’t really relate. I mean, I’m single, and I’m not looking to have kids.”
“You’re still serious about not having kids?” I ask him, trying to ignore the feeling of disappointment poking at me.
“I don’t know.” He abruptly avoids my gaze, focusing on his coffee in front of him.
“I understand. It’s hard to envision something that seems so out of reach.”
“You ever think about having kids?” Ayden asks suddenly.
I halt, my cup of hot cocoa halfway to my mouth. “Not so much.”
I think I’m scared to love someone that much. To feel the love of your own child is something that scares me nearly senseless. The way my mother just shut me out because of her own hurt was so all-consuming, and I don’t ever want to pass that pain down to anyone else.
“Yeah.” He searches my face.
“I think you’d make an amazing father, Ayden,” I say softly.
Our eyes catch and hold, and heat rushes through my body.
“I can’t imagine raising a child right now,” he says finally. “Beers at the beach, shovel in one hand and a rake in the other…what do I have to teach somebody?”
“You’ve taught me a lot,” I say. “It’s about the love, not the way of life.”
“Yeah.” He shrugs. “I guess so. I’d never let my son be a fisherman, though.”
I don’t say anything, but then he adds, “But I guess I couldn’t
really stop him, could I?”
We finish our drinks in relative silence. I can’t get Ayden’s booty call out of my head.
And he knows it too. He tilts his head at me cockily, his eyebrow half-up like he wants to hear what’s on my mind. Almost like he’s daring me to.
But I’m in no mood to play games with something that could burn me forever.
My thoughts return to the matter at hand.
Ayden’s moving.
And we’re involved in a dare neither of us planned on.
I fidget uncomfortably on the couch and drink my hot chocolate rapidly.
Maybe Trevor’s invite was like when the spotlight shined on him and Max in L.A. A second angel in disguise for me. If that’s the case, I need to take this dare seriously and commit to finding a real-life romantic partner. No matter what happens with Ayden and his multitude of women, I need to focus on my own romantic issues.
Yes, Ayden’s my best friend, and sometimes he feels like my soul mate. But he and I vowed a long time ago that we’d never be more than friends. And I can’t take that risk. If I lost Ayden, I don’t know what I’d do.
So. If Ayden’s not an option, the question is—who?
CHAPTER FOUR
“Ask Ayden out,” Tari whispers into my ear a few nights later as we sit at the Lucky Bay Bar. “He’ll be your forever plus one. That will solve all your problems—you don’t lose the dare, and you get to keep Ayden at the same time.”
“I can’t do that,” I say as I turn on my barstool to look at her.
“Why not?” Tari says as she finishes her third whiskey sour. “I bet he’s a fucking stallion in bed.”
I tip my head back and laugh with her as I glance sideways at the man we’re chatting about.
Ayden, standing a foot away with Peter, catches my eye and winks.
And the part of me that always melts for my best friend—well, that part melts all over again.
The four of us came here tonight to scope out potential date options for Ayden and me, and the evening has quickly devolved into light-hearted but intense arguing and drinking. Ayden hates on sight every guy Tari suggests for me, and Tari nixes all of Peter’s recommendations for Ayden. And the more Tari drinks, the worse her mouth gets.
“You know what her nickname is? Town whore,” she says when Peter points to Amy Allen.
I choke on my whiskey. “Tari!”
“What?” She bats her blue eyes innocently. “You know it’s true, Bella. She’ll sleep with literally anyone. And probably has.” She turns on Ayden. “Have you ever slept with her, Ayd?”
Ayden raises an eyebrow. “I don’t kiss and tell.”
Tari turns my stool so we’re facing away from him and Peter.
“Can you believe Ayden?” Tari whispers to me.
“It’s nothing new. I don’t like Trey any more than he likes Amy or Jenny, and yet we still go out with them.”
“How come?” she asks.
When I glance toward Ayden, Tari says, “You need to step it up, Bella.”
I open my mouth to argue her.
“Lifelong best friends to lovers is just so romantic,” she says.
“Tar, this isn’t a romance novel. It’s Lucky Bay, Maine.” And life feels as real as it can get up here.
“But you deserve a man you know will have your back no matter what. Nobody else will be there for you the way Ayden Wild will. He’d take a bullet for you if he had to. You know that as well as I do. Plus, what’s the harm in one date? Or one night of intense fucking?” Tari says, realizing too late by my expression that she needs to rein it in.
“You know no date, however small or brief, ever seems harmless to me. And Ayden and I…that’s just not going to happen.”
I sneak a glance over at Amy Allen. Her miniskirt leaves little to the imagination, not to mention her skin-tight shirt that shows more than a hint of cleavage. She’s facing our group and eyeing Ayden flirtatiously. He probably has already had sex with her. My stomach plummets.
I return my attention to our circle of four and realize Ayden’s focus is fixed on me. As I catch his eye, he gives a nearly imperceptible shake of his head. I exhale, trying to ignore the clear feeling of relief coursing through me.
So there’s still one man in town Amy hasn’t had, apparently. Funny because I never thought of Ayden as discriminating with women.
I give him a second look.
His long-sleeved, moss green shirt brings out the mix of color in his eyes that peek out from underneath his always-there cap. He’s got one hand wrapped around a bottle of beer, and he stuffs the other casually into his jeans pocket as he nods at something Peter’s saying. Peter’s messy blond hair falls into his face, and he brushes it away as he continues talking to Ayden. As quarterback and top receiver on Lucky Bay’s varsity football squad, Ayden and Peter always made a good team. Peter likes to say that because of all the catches he hauled in, he’s the reason Ayden still holds the touchdown record for state quarterback.
He also should hold the record for number of women throwing themselves at him.
As if on cue, a woman with bright red lipstick and razor straight black hair past her shoulders steps into Ayden’s space. Within seconds, she’s got her hand on his chest.
I bite down on my lip and avert my gaze.
Tari’s blue eyes widen. “What is it?”
“Nothing,” I say quickly. “It’s just…”
She looks behind me and huffs out a loud breath. “Good Lord, women circle Ayden Wild like he’s the only man left alive.”
“They certainly do,” I say in response.
She swirls her drink around as she keeps her attention focused over my shoulder. “Ayden always disappoints me when he flirts meaninglessly and dates meaninglessly. I can’t imagine how it feels for you.”
The thing is Ayden and I were always from two different worlds. While he was the town football star, I was definitely not a cheerleader. I was the girl who got straight A’s and stood in the bleachers, watching the crowd rush the field when our team won. Watching all those girls hang on Ayden after every game was trying at best.
But I got used to it. I like to believe I became numb to it.
Until this past week.
“It shouldn’t bother me,” I say to Tari. “First of all, we’re here to find dates, so my reaction is completely antithetical to our purpose tonight. Second, I’ve seen Ayden Wild with other women thousands of times. And yet, to be completely honest, recently it seems like it does. Bother me.”
“You mean it bothered you less before you knew he was leaving town,” Tari says. “Well, of course. Because then you thought you had time.”
“Time?”
“Time for things to play out,” she explains. “Time to maybe one day discuss your relationship. But now, time’s running, baby. That’s the problem.”
Yes, that is the problem. Time is running, and I don’t have a clue how to slow it down long enough to figure out my heart.
Needing space from the intensity of this conversation, I turn to Ayden and Peter. “I just don’t think you can trust people in California,” I say, gesturing in a wide circle with my hand. “I mean, where did they come from?”
“What the hell are you talking about?” Ayden snorts, immediately turning away from the woman still clinging to his side. The woman frowns and disappears back into the crowd.
I respond by reaching over, grabbing Ayden’s cap, and putting it on my head. He grins at me and lets it stay there. I smile back at him, wondering if I keep the hat, I can keep a part of him here with me too.
“I’m with Bella,” Tari says, finishing the rest of her drink. “California wasn’t even in the Revolutionary War.”
Ayden and Peter laugh, and Peter plants a sweet kiss on Tari’s won’t-shut-up mouth.
“You’re right, Tar,” I say to her. “Without that war, where would America be?”
“Bella didn’t tell all of you before now, but it was actually her and not Paul Revere wh
o rode the horse that night,” Ayden says.
“I’m just saying from experience, that people who didn’t grow up on this land—New England—are different that’s all. You can’t always trust them.”
“What about my cousins?” Ayden asks. “You trust all of them, and not a one is from here.”
“That’s different,” I say. “They’re related to you, so by extension, they’re from here. And Jenson’s from Pennsylvania, so even though he’s not blood, he’s still from the northeast.”
“Aren’t there like a ton of east coasters living in California?” asks Peter.
“Yeah,” says Ayden. “They get there in this really wild way. They fly on something called airplanes. They’re like this machine with wings and…”
“Oh, whatever.” I laugh and give Ayden back his hat. He doesn’t put it on, though. He studies me for a second and then returns the hat to my head.
“So why are you going to California, Ayd?” Tari asks him suddenly.
Ayden stiffens. Clearly, Tari’s hit a sore spot.
“You never did really say why,” I say to him softly.
“Later,” he says only to me. “I promise. Okay?”
The pain in his eyes scares me, but I pat his arm. “Okay.”
Peter breaks the awkwardness when he brings up some story from their football glory days, and I lean forward and gently put Ayden’s hat back on his head. He gives me the thumbs-up as I say quietly to Tari, “I can’t believe we involved you and Peter in our mess.”
Tari laughs heartily, her blue eyes brightening with amusement. “I’m happy to help, to be honest. Sitting around, checking to see if I’m ovulating and then trying—and continually failing—to conceive isn’t exactly my idea of a good time. You and Ayden have provided a welcome distraction.”
I give her a hug. “Maybe the appointment with your doctor will help clarify things. Maybe those tests you took will provide some answers.”
“Maybe. We’ve been trying for over a year.”
Ayden Page 4