Hate to Love You

by Isabelle Richards

  I pull my chair closer to Aiden’s bed. “Aid, enough of the mumbo jumbo. You need to talk to me. Complete sentences and all. What have you been dancing around all morning?”

  He closes the cover to his iPad, then sets it on the side table. “You made my Snickerdoodle sad. She thinks she’s hiding it, but I can always tell. I wanted you here to help her, and all you did was piss her off more than you usually do.”

  Gripping the arm rests, I lean back and rest my left foot on my right knee. “I piss her off just by breathing. It’s been that way since the day she was born. I’m not sure why you thought this would be any different.”

  “She needs you, and I need you to be there for her. I’m dying, Chase. I’ll be lucky if I make it another year. I need to know that you’re going to take care of her, and you can’t do that if she can’t be in the same damn room as you.”

  Pushing up from the chair, I walk to the other side of the room. If I look at him right now, I’ll completely fall apart. He can’t die. It’s simply not an option. This has to be some fucked up dream, because I can’t live in a reality where Aiden is dying. I have so many things I want to say, so many questions to ask, but I struggle to find the words. “Ari said you can get a transplant.”

  “It’s a Hail Mary and not a very good one. Don’t get your hopes up, son,” he says.

  I turn and see defeat in his eyes. The fire I’m used to seeing there is gone. “Fuck that. How can you sit there resolved that this is your fate? I’ve never known you to give up. How can you not fight? If not for you, for Ari.”

  “I can waste my limited energy fighting a fight I cannot win, or I can spend the rest of my time doing exactly what I want. Going out on my terms. I choose option B. If a heart somehow becomes available, then I’ll take it and thank God for every extra day it gives me. But I won’t waste my time hoping for a miracle. I’m spending every day with my daughter, and I’m going to make sure that she’s taken care of.” He reaches for a glass of water on his bedside table, but the tremor in his hands makes him pull back.

  I walk to the other side of the room and hand the glass to him. “Shouldn’t you be having this conversation with Henrik? Shouldn’t he be the one here?”

  “You’re so intuitive on the field, but in real life, you’re oblivious. They broke up months ago. Arianna just hasn’t announced it. She keeps coming up with a bunch of excuses to delay, but the real reason is that she doesn’t want the media attention and all the stress that comes with it. She’s worried with paps digging through our trash, my secret will come out. She just wants her privacy. The second there’s a story, all that goes out the window.”

  There’s a lot a truth to that. The breakup of the world’s favorite sports couple will bring on a media circus of epic proportions. Every time Ari and Aiden leave the house, they’ll be swarmed. He’ll go into constant Papa Bear mode trying to protect her, and the stress will destroy him.

  “Henrik’s okay with just waiting to go public?” I ask. “If he gets caught with a woman, he’s going to get slaughtered in the press.”

  He chuckles. “Henrik’s happier than a pig in shit. He’s hoping she’ll change her mind, and he takes every opportunity to try to convince her to come back. It borders on pathetic really.”

  I actually feel a little bad for the bastard. I know what it’s like to have your heart stomped on by Arianna. It’s not something you get over easily. It’s been two years, and I’m still not over it. I’m not sure I ever will be.

  “Whatever’s broken between you two, you need to fix it,” he says. “Beg, grovel, plead. I don’t care what you have to do. Just do it. Now.”

  Does he know? I can’t imagine she would have told him, but obviously I’m oblivious, so what do I know? Whether he knows the specifics or not, clearly he knows something. Time to lay all the cards on the table.

  “I tried that last night,” I reply. “You can see how well that turned out.”

  He slaps the bed. “God damn it, Chase, I don’t have time for this bullshit. I’m dying! Is that not registering with you yet? You need to fix this.”

  How the hell has this become my fault? She left me. “Don’t you think if there was a chance of that, I would have done it by now?”

  He grabs my arm and glares at me until my hair stands up on end. “You’re an idiot if you think that. Try harder. You owe it to her, and you owe it to me.”

  Before I have a chance to respond, Ari walks back in the room. “The car’s here. Let’s go.”

  The trip home is silent and tense. Ever been stuck on plane with the woman who wants to eat your balls for lunch, and her father? I don’t recommend it. Especially when those two people are Aldrichs. Aldrichs know how to strategically shut you out while they rip out your soul. Arianna won’t even look in my direction. The constant disappointment on Aiden’s face makes me sick with guilt. I’m letting them both down, and I’m at a complete loss as to how to make it better.

  After landing, we go our separate ways.

  Before getting in their car, Aiden hugs me. “Remember what I said. Fix this before it’s too late.”

  I’m in a daze of grief and regret, and I can’t think straight. It’s a wonder I manage to drive home without killing myself. Autopilot gets me to my house instead of Mom and Pop’s, which is definitely a sign I shouldn’t be on the road. Thankfully, the contractors are almost done with the renovations. The walls are up and painted, and the hardwood and marble flooring is down. The new carpeting for the whole house will be laid next week. Other than that, all that’s left are cabinets, countertops, and kitchen appliances.

  This is my first time being here since the contractors started. I bought the house soon after I was drafted because I thought Arianna would love it. Little did I know that a month later, she would break it off. For a year, my stone-faced contemporary sat empty while I lived in the same apartment I’d lived in since college. I couldn’t face this place without her. Who wants to live in a six-thousand-square-foot house alone?

  Once the pictures of her and Henrik started circulating, I got blitzed out of my mind and came down here with a sledge hammer. My plan was to destroy every inch of the place. Fortunately for me, I was too drunk to do much damage. Charlie found me the next morning and made it her mission to help me move in. At the time, I couldn’t understand why she was being so supportive. I must have seemed nuts—who buys a house and refuses to move in? But she knew I had a broken heart the whole time. Yet another reason my twin is amazing. She decorated the place, and while it wasn’t the home I was expecting it to be, it helped me move on. And thanks to a cracked pipe, I have to start all over again.

  All the furniture was ruined in the flood, so I’ll be sleeping on the floor. Suddenly I’m regretting getting my choice in flooring. The marble may look awesome, but it’ll be a bitch to sleep on. I’ve got plenty of camping gear in the garage though, so I can at least spend the night and get my head on straight. To my great amazement, the garage fridge is still stocked with beer. I thought the contractors would have cleared me out. Grabbing a six pack and my sleeping bag, I go back to the living room and set up for the night.

  My phone doesn’t stop ringing. Less than a day ago, I clinched my division and secured a bye in the first round of the playoffs. I should be ecstatic and partying my balls off like the rest of my team. Going through my texts, I see invites to Vegas, Mexico, L.A., and a yacht. But I can’t celebrate anything now. How can I give a shit about football while Aiden is fighting for his life?

  I should have gone home with them. If I hadn’t shot my mouth off last night, Ari probably would have let me. Sitting here drinking in my living room is a waste of precious time. There are things Aiden’s going to need that he won’t want to burden Ari with. She’s going to try to shoulder this all on her own, and it’ll break her. I want to be there for them, but breaking down Ari’s walls is next to impossible.

  After twelve beers, calling her seems like a stellar idea. I get her voicemail, of course. Why should anything
be easy? “Ari, we need to talk. I don’t know what’s going on between us, but I know I want to be there for you and for Aid. He’s like a father to me, and I can’t just sit back and do nothing. Please don’t shut me out. I’ve fucked up in so many ways. I can’t tell you how much I regret… everything I’ve done that’s gotten us where we are. I want to make it right. Please. Call me.”

  Like the moron I am, I stumble into the garage and pull out a box that I should have thrown away two years ago. Pictures, postcards, copies of emails, and other random shit we collected over the four years we were together, saved just to torment myself. After six more beers, I’ve gotten through the box, and I feel as if I’ve been sliced open, rolled in salt and garnished with lemon juice. I miss her so much I feel it in my bones, but based on what I saw this weekend, we may be too broken to fix.

  As I go through the last album, I hear a noise in the house. I grab a baseball bat from the corner of the garage and make my way back inside. I hear the clanging of glass bottles coming from the living room.

  “Chase? Are you here?”

  I put down the bat and walk into the living room. Jenna has a trash bag and is cleaning up my beer bottles.

  “What are you doing here?” I ask.

  “Pam and Roger called me when they saw lights on. They said they tried you first, but it went straight to voicemail.”

  I should be grateful my neighbors are looking out for me, but Jenna is the last person I want to see right now. “My battery died.” I take the bag and put it in the corner of the room. “Thanks for coming by to check on the house. As you can see, everything’s okay. You can see yourself out.”

  “You’re not staying here, are you?” She rubs her hands together. “It’s freezing in here. You should at least turn on the heat.”

  I open another beer. “Where I stay isn’t really your concern anymore. Go home.”

  “I hear there’re some great celebration parties happening. Want to get dressed and go? I heard from Sasha that…” She keeps rambling about random crap she’s heard from other players’ girlfriends.

  I don’t give a shit about any of it, and I wish she’d shut the hell up. I should show her ass to the door, but it’s kind of nice having someone here. Even if it’s her. Jenna’s nice enough, in a one-dimensional kind of way. She’s just not right for me. Why it took me so long to realize that is beyond me. She was using me for the lifestyle I could give her just as I was using her to get over Ari. I think she does love me in her own way, and that makes me a complete bastard because I’m not sure I even like her. Or maybe that’s just the beer talking.

  I sit on the hearth. “You should really go. I’m not going to be good company right now. I’ve had a shitty day, and I’m most of the way through a case of beer.”

  She sits next to me and takes the beer from my hand. “Why don’t you come back to my house? You have to be at practice tomorrow. Between drinking your weight in beer and sleeping on this floor, you’ll be hurting in the morning. Stay with me, and at least you can get a good night’s sleep.”

  I scoff. “That’s not a good idea.”

  “You can stay in the guest room. At the rate you’re going, you’ll still be drunk in the morning and you’ll need a ride to the stadium anyway.”

  This idea has trouble written all over it, but the beer is insisting that a bed is just what I need. When beer talks, it’s hard to ignore it. Ah, fuck it. I’m still paying for the place. I might as well get something out of it. “Okay. But I stay in the guest room, and this doesn’t change anything.”

  She stands and offers me a hand to help me up. “Of course. I know where things stand between us.”

  The rest of the night is a hazy blur. Once I get up and start moving around, the booze hits me hard, and my grip on reality slips away. I have vague recollections of the ride to Jenna’s, and it’s possible I hurled in the elevator up to the condo. Everything after that is a wash.

  The blinding morning sun wakes me, which is strange because the guest room has a western exposure. My body feels as if it was hit by a dump truck, then backed over for good measure, and my throat is as dry as the desert. After breaking the sleep seal on my dry eyes, all I can see is pink. Definitely not the guest room.

  I saw this coming, and I wasn’t smart enough to ward it off. I’m such a fucking idiot. Jumping out of bed, I search for my boxers. They’re nowhere to be found. Going commando, I throw on my pants and brace myself for the disaster that awaits me. “Jenna?”

  “In the kitchen,” she calls.

  When I enter the room, she has a Pedialyte waiting for me. It’s nasty but an instant hangover cure. Even better than Gatorade.

  “I went out to get this for you this morning,” she says.

  “Thanks,” I say, taking the bottle from her. “I think we should talk about last night. I don’t really remember that much, but I know I didn’t sleep in the guest room. I’m sorry that I was out of hand last night—”

  She holds her hand up to stop me. “Say no more. Really. I know exactly where things stand. We don’t need to make a big deal about it. Go get in the shower. We need to leave in twenty if you don’t want to be late.”

  There’s no way this will be that easy.

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Arianna

  What do you get your father for what is possibly his last Christmas? A trip to the land of make believe. The Aldrich/Brennan clan is jetting off to the Bahamas for five wonderful days of bonding where we will all pretend that everything is normal. No one will mention Daddy’s heart. No one will mention that Charlie still can’t get pregnant. Chase and I will act like everything is okay between us. We’ve all promised to remain completely unplugged. No cells, no internet, and no TV. Just us, living in the moment.

  After Denver, Chase left me a drunkenly slurred apologetic message. I had no desire to rehash our never-ending fight, so I texted him about his upcoming game, and we moved on as though nothing had ever happened. Our banter is still casual and friendly, but it’s completely void of any flirtation. I miss that, but I’m not crazy enough to go back there again.

  As it turns out, the land of make believe is amazing. Day after day of endless sunshine and azure skies. The temperature is a perfect eighty degrees every day. Simply perfect. Walking into the Mediterranean villa feels like sanctuary. The excess weight of our lives dissipates as soon as we see that ocean view. I’m questioning why we ever have to go back.

  We’ve all rotated use of the house throughout the years, so we all have our designated rooms. That helps cut down on the bickering. Spencer teases Charlie that if she doesn’t start to relax, he’ll sleep in his old room from before they were married. He never actually slept there, but he put up a good front at the time.

  I adore this house’s huge windows, vaulted ceilings, and high archways. There’s so much air and light that I can’t help but feel freer. Despite the enormous size, the house is unpretentious and decorated to feel like a beach house. The house was designed for children to trek water and sand in from the beach and make messes without having to worry about scratching marble floors or getting water on Persian rugs. It has a homey feel, and even though I’m reminded of my second knee injury when I look around the grounds and spot the path I crawled, I love it here.

  After one day on the beach, Daddy looks better than he has in months. His cheeks have color, and there’s a little sparkle in his eyes. He won’t just sleep on the beach like I’ve begged him to, but sleeping on the boat with a fishing pole in his hand is a reasonable alternative. He’s happy, and I’d give anything to keep him like this.

  From the time we were infants, the Brennan/Aldrich clan took all our vacations together. Now that I’m an adult, I’m amazed they didn’t get sick of each other, but they never did. After my mother died, those vacations meant everything to me. They made me feel as though I was still part of a family.

  After I ended things with Chase, the vacations kept happening, but I stopped going. As much as it hurt, I couldn’t g
o. If Chase went, only one of us would have come out alive. If he brought a girl, I’d have had to kill them both. If he didn’t go, I would have missed him so much it might have killed me.

  During the four years we were together, we mastered the art of sneaking around to keep up our ruse. We fight like cats and dogs even on our best day, so that part was easy, but finding alone time when the family always did their best to keep us apart was tricky. Spending twenty-four hours a day together without touching was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do. We’d get very creative, and it only added to our chemistry.

  On this trip, however, we have no idea how to behave around each other, so we’re both trying so hard to stay polite and agreeable. It’s forced and phony, but it keeps things copacetic. The whole group plays cards, and neither Chase nor I threatens to kill the other once. A record for us. When we actually agree on where we should go snorkeling, the family looks at us as if we’ve sprouted wings.

  Later that night, I run into him in the kitchen after everyone has gone to bed. We reach for the fridge at the same time and do the “no, you go ahead” dance.

  He jumps to sit on the center island. “What are we doing here, Ari?”

  I grab two bottles of water from the fridge and hand one to him. “Being cordial.”

  He puts the bottle down and grabs the other one from my hand, opens it, and gives it back. “Cordial? Since when do we do cordial?”

  I take a long sip. “What do you want from me? Would it be better if we were fighting all the time? Tomorrow we can have a blow out about pancakes versus waffles. Would that be better?”

  He gives me a look like I’m being ridiculous. “Stop. Doesn’t it feel … weird?”

  I nod and lean against the fridge. “It sure does, but I don’t know what else to do. I just want Daddy to be happy. If getting along keeps that smile on his face, I’ll do it.”

  “He does seem like he’s having a good time. Although I’d love it if he stopped singing that Garth Brooks song. I love Two Pina Coladas as much as the next guy, but there’s only so much I can take.”