A Sweet Life-kindle

by Andre, Bella

  So he walked and he walked, his emotional pain turning physical as his injured leg protested the exercise. But he didn't slow down. He welcomed the physical ache. It was much easier to handle. He eventually left the city to take a trail into the woods. He'd walked and run this trail many times. It was used often in training runs, and there were memories along every step of the rocky path.

  As the memories threatened to breach his control, he started to run. His muscles screamed in protest. He really shouldn't be jogging, but he pushed himself to do it anyway. He needed to burn some energy and maybe, just maybe, he could outrun the past.

  It didn't work. With the setting sun in his face, he came to a halt, breathless and exhausted with sweat running down his face, back and shoulders.

  Flopping down on the ground, he took in gulps of air, feeling like he'd just finished one of the grueling runs that were required to be a smokejumper. When he'd gone through rookie training with Kyle, he'd been shocked at the amount of physical strength and endurance required to do the job. He'd thought he was in good shape before he got there, but he wasn't even close. He and Kyle had never worked so hard in their lives. The training had tested their stamina, endurance, courage and mostly their will.

  They'd never considered quitting. They'd been more worried about not making it. Kyle had been particularly stressed out before their final test.

  "Don't let me quit, Aiden," he'd said. "Whatever I say, no matter how tired I am, don’t let me give up. I want to do this. I want to be proud of myself. I want to do this more than I've ever wanted to do anything."

  "Right back at you," he'd told him. "You run, I run. We don't stop. Ever."

  The pact had carried them through that run and through many more runs. In fact, it had carried them through all the challenges they'd faced together – except for the last one.

  "Sorry, I let you down, buddy," he muttered, staring up at the sky.

  The dusky twilight turned to a blazing orange red. Instead of sky, he saw the forest on fire, the flames splitting the trees, the smoke thick and black, and Kyle walking away from him.

  Where the hell was he going?

  But now, like before, there was no answer.

  Sitting up, he took several more breaths, then stood up. It was getting dark and he was miles from home. Sara was probably worried. He reached into his pocket for his cell phone and realized he'd left it on his coffee table. There was nothing to do but head home. The pain in his leg was bad now that he wasn't so distracted by grief, and he had to go slow. By the time he made it back to the apartment it was eight o'clock at night. He'd been gone for hours.

  He had no idea of the response he'd get when he finally opened his apartment door. He had enough experience with women to suspect he wasn't going to get a great welcome.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Aiden had expected Sara to be pissed off, maybe sulking, maybe even gone. But when he let himself into his apartment, he found her in the kitchen, stirring something in a pot on the stove. The air smelled like garlic and onions, and for the first time in a long time, a bit like home. To say he was shocked was an understatement.

  "I hope you're hungry," Sara said, turning her head to give him a warm smile.

  That smile held absolutely no hint of resentment or anger and it rattled him as much as the dinner she appeared to be making.

  "I am starving," he said, as he limped across the room.

  Her sharp gaze took in his hobbling stride. "You're hurt."

  "I just walked too long," he said, pausing by the stove.

  "You look like you just finished a marathon," she said, her eyes running down his sweaty face and body. "Do you need some ice? Maybe a shower?"

  "I'll get to all that. First I want to apologize."

  "It's fine, Aiden."

  "I shouldn't have—"

  "Stop," she interrupted, holding up a hand. "I said it was fine. You don't have to apologize. I know what grief feels like, and I know why you had to get out of here."

  He could see the understanding in her eyes, which only made him feel guilty. "Still, I shouldn't have left you like that. You've had a tough day, too."

  "Well, surprisingly, I feel better. I'm far, far away from my problems, and I have you to thank for that. So I decided to make you dinner."

  "You're being very nice," he said, surprised by her attitude.

  "I'm a very nice person. Haven't you figured that out yet?"

  He smiled back at her. "Actually, I've known that all along. You were always a sweetheart, Sara. Far too good for me."

  She shook her head, her expression turning rueful. "I never liked being the good girl. It was so boring."

  "It's who you were and who you still are," he amended. Sara had definitely come out of her shell since high school. She wasn't afraid to be smart in front of people anymore and she could stand up for herself. But deep down she still had a core of softness and warmth that was just inherent in who she was.

  "Bad girls had and still have more fun," she said. "Anyway, you should check your phone. It rang a few times while you were gone."

  "Probably my family trying to track me down. My father and grandfather both wanted to have a discussion with me tonight."

  "No wonder you were so willing to hit the road," she said dryly. "And here I thought it was all for me."

  "It was for both of us. When you told me you needed time to just think and breathe, I felt exactly the same way. I figured we could do it together." He grabbed his phone and checked his missed calls. There were several from family members along with a couple of text messages from Emma, telling him he better take care of her friend. "Did you hear from Emma?" he asked.

  Sara nodded, her eyes filling with guilt. "I didn't pick up the call, but I sent her a message saying I'm okay and not to worry. I feel badly about taking off on her the way I did. She must be wondering what's going on."

  "You'll fill her in when it's time. In the meanwhile, she'll live." He moved over to the stove. "That sauce smells amazing. I thought you said you couldn't cook."

  "I have three dishes I know how to make and this is one of them. It's not fancy, but it's pretty tasty."

  "I know you didn't find any food in my refrigerator, so…"

  "So I walked to the store, which thankfully was only about a mile. You took the keys to your truck with you."

  "I realized that later."

  "And I bought a few things for dinner and breakfast. I threw out all the expired food in your fridge. It was starting to stink."

  "I left in a hurry."

  "Where exactly did you go?"

  "I just drove. To be honest, I wasn't paying any attention. When I would start to fall asleep, I'd pull over, camp out or find a motel for the occasional shower. I ended up in Wyoming."

  "That's crazy, Aiden."

  "That's when I realized that no matter how far I went, I wasn't going to be able to get away from myself. So I headed back to San Francisco, thinking maybe being around the family would help me remember who I was. That didn't really work out. Although, I did find you there. That was a nice surprise—at least for me. You weren't too happy about it."

  "I wasn't expecting to see you and the fire shook me up. I thought I was just going to surprise my father for his birthday and, wow, look how that's turned out. My whole life, my entire sense of identity, is in question. Talk about not knowing who you are, I have no idea who anyone in my family is."

  He nodded. "We can talk about it."

  "No, not yet," she said quickly. "Let's just have dinner. It's almost ready. Why don't you sit down and put your leg up."

  "Good idea," he said, moving over to the table.

  "I met one of your neighbors earlier, a very attractive redhead named Mallory. She asked me to tell you that she was thinking about you and that you should call her."

  "Thanks," he said, taking a seat.

  "So who is Mallory? An old girlfriend?" she asked, a curious gleam in her eyes.

  "I wouldn't call her a girlfriend. We
went out a few times." He grimaced as he propped up his leg on a nearby chair.

  "Do you need some ice?" Sara asked, not missing a thing.

  "It will be fine."

  She didn't look like she believed him, but she let it go. "So what happened with Mallory?"

  "Nothing. We had some laughs. That was it. There was no big drama."

  "She likes you. I recognized that look in her eyes when she asked about you."

  "Mallory likes a lot of people," he said with a shrug. "Believe me, I did not break her heart."

  "Would you know if you had?" Sara challenged.

  "I don't get involved with women who are looking for a serious relationship. I'm up front about that. I always have been. Except, maybe with you. But that night with you was unexpected. I didn't handle it well obviously." He paused, waiting for her to make a comeback, but her gaze was focused on the stove. "What about you, Sara? You're as single as I am. What's your story?"

  "I have no story. I told you I work all the time, and I haven't met anyone I liked well enough to change that." She paused, her expression contemplative. "Love has always been a mystery to me. I saw love when I looked next door, but I didn't see it in my own home. I certainly never wanted to model my parents' relationship. And I've never wanted to be with a man who could make me as sad as my mom used to get. She tried not to show her unhappiness to me, but I could see it. Sometimes I could hear their raised voices late at night. I used to worry sometimes that she'd leave and not take me with her. I did not want to get stuck with my dad." She turned her gaze to Aiden. "But that's exactly what happened. I got stuck with my dad, and he's not any more happy about it than I am. Anyway, I don't want to talk about him—or even about love. My few attempts at the emotion haven't turned out so well."

  He had a feeling he'd been one of those attempts, and it bothered him. He'd never meant to hurt her.

  "Love can be good," he said slowly.

  She raised an eyebrow. "You're going to advocate love now?"

  "Well, I've seen it in my grandparents. My father's parents have been married for sixty years, and they're devoted to each other."

  "That is unbelievable," she said.

  "And my father and Lynda seem to have a strong relationship. Sometimes on the outside it looks one-sided, like she does everything for him, but the old man can be a romantic."

  Sara nodded. "He is romantic. I remember on one of Lynda's birthdays your dad hired a plane to fly over your house with, I love you, Lynda, in skywriting."

  "That's Jack Callaway—bigger than life. He's always been about the grand gesture."

  "Well, I was impressed. So was Emma. We sat on the curb watching that plane and talking about how one day we were going to find guys like that. Turns out they're more difficult to find than we thought," she said with a wry smile.

  "Maybe you haven't been looking in the right spot."

  "Maybe you haven't either," she retorted.

  Their gazes caught and something passed in between, something amazing and a little terrifying.

  Then Sara looked away, turning her attention back to the stove. "This is ready."

  "I'll get some plates."

  "No, just sit, rest," she said. "I can handle putting dinner on the table."

  That was the easy part, he thought. After dinner, they had the rest of the evening to handle, and he had a feeling bringing Sara home with him was going to be one of the worst ideas he'd ever had.

  ***

  Dinner conversation was casual, neutral, and Sara felt herself relaxing after the tense few moments before the meal when Aiden had given her a look that told her he was just as aware as she was that there was something going on between them, even if neither one of them wanted to admit it.

  Or… Maybe she'd imagined that look. She had a long history of hoping Aiden would suddenly wake up and see that he was in love with her. She couldn't go down that road again. That fantasy was part of another life.

  After they finished eating, Aiden went to take a shower, and Sara busied herself with the dishes. He'd offered to do them later, but she'd brushed off the suggestion. It wasn't that big of a deal, and she needed a distraction from thinking about Aiden's beautifully rugged body under a spray of hot water.

  She wondered what he'd do if she joined him in the shower. He'd probably welcome her at first and then push her away when he came to his senses. That seemed to be the pattern with most of their encounters.

  Frowning, she started the dishwasher and headed into the living room. She flipped through several channels on the huge television. For a man who liked nature so much, Aiden obviously spent some time on the well-worn recliner in front of the TV.

  She paused on a game show. She loved intellectual games. In college, she'd been part of a super bowl academic team that had won a national competition with entries from every major university in the country. It had been one of her proudest moments.

  As the contestant selected a category, the announcer asked, "This number, one of the first twenty, uses only one vowel four times."

  "Seventeen," she guessed, beating the contestant by a split second.

  "Seventeen," the announcer confirmed.

  She smiled happily, waiting for the next question.

  "To marry Elizabeth, Prince Philip had to renounce claims to this southern European country's crown."

  She thought for a moment, then said aloud, "Greece."

  The contestant guessed Italy. The announcer said, "You're wrong. The correct answer was Greece."

  "I told you," she said smugly.

  "Are you talking to the TV?" Aiden asked.

  She hadn't realized he was out of the shower. "Bad habit. I usually play this game alone at home."

  "It sounds like you win a lot," he said as he finished buttoning up his shirt.

  For a moment her gaze lingered on his chest. Ruthlessly, she dragged it away, refusing to acknowledge that he smelled really good now, having obviously thrown on a splash of aftershave.

  "Around 1542," the announcer continued, "Explorer Juan Rodriguez Cabrillo discovered this island off Los Angeles, and it's believed he's buried there, too."

  "Catalina," she said, her answer coming in harmony with both Aiden and the contestant.

  "Catalina is correct," the announcer said.

  "Hey, I might be able to keep up with you," Aiden said, sitting down on the couch.

  "That was an easy one."

  "Ouch," he said with a smile.

  "Hey, there was only one thing I ever did better than you, so I'm claiming game show questions as my strength."

  He laughed. "All right. You can have game shows."

  "Thank you."

  "But I suspect there are a lot of things you do better than me, Sara."

  "I doubt that. I had a ringside seat for a good portion of your life. And it seemed like you got award after award."

  "You're thinking of Burke."

  "Well, he had a lot, too, but you had your share, and you were more genuinely popular than Burke. He was someone the kids looked up to, but you were the one they really liked." She paused. "By the way, do you know that your television is obscenely large?"

  He laughed. "Kyle bought that television when we first moved in together. After he kicked me out and moved Vicky in, I got to keep the TV as compensation for losing my roommate."

  "Now, that makes sense, because I can't really picture you as a couch potato. Although, you have a lot of books in this apartment, so you must spend some time reading. And your favorite topic seems to be astronomy."

  He tipped is head. "The night sky has always interested me. When I'm up in the mountains, far from civilization, there are a million stars in the sky. I figured I should know what I was looking at. So I got a few books."

  "A few?" she echoed raising an eyebrow.

  "I went slightly overboard on the online ordering. Then someone in the family found out I liked astronomy, and every Christmas or birthday another book shows up."

  "I've never thought much ab
out the stars or seen a night sky like the one you described. In New York, all I can see are the city lights, and San Francisco was the same. My parents didn't like to camp, so we never went anywhere that was far from a city, not that we really went anywhere at all. My dad liked to work. He did not like to vacation."

  "It sounds like you're taking after him in that regard."

  "You're right," she said. "I do not want to turn into my dad. I'm going to have to change that," she said.

  "You should. I'd like to take you camping. I think you'd love it."

  "Why on earth would you think that? I'm a city girl."

  Aiden smiled. "Only one way to find out."

  As he ran his fingers through his damp air, she became very aware of how alone they were and how many hours there were before bedtime. She still didn't know where she was going to sleep, but she didn't want to think about that now. "Should we go out somewhere?"

  "Not much open around here on Sunday night after nine," he replied.

  "Right. I forgot it was Sunday. The days are all mixed up for me."

  Silence followed her words—a tense silence.

  "There is one bar that's probably open if you're up for beer and peanuts," he said.

  "Sounds great," she said with relief.

  "I'll put on my shoes."

  While Aiden finished dressing, she went into the bathroom and fixed herself up a little. Her eyes were nowhere near as red or swollen after her crying jag earlier that day, and with a little blush and some lip gloss, she felt immensely better. The pain of deception was still simmering right under the surface, but for the moment she was going to leave it there.

  A few minutes later they were on their way to a bar named Gil's.

  The bar was dimly lit, lots of western décor, and the music playing was country. They grabbed a table in the corner and ordered two beers from the waitress.

  The waitress gave Aiden a sexy smile and said, "Haven't seen you in here in a while."

  "Been away," he said.