by Schiller, MK
“Thanks.” I take a small swig. It’s too bitter for me, not that anything would taste good right now.
“It was a long time ago. You should ask your dad about the details.”
“I can’t. He passed away a few months before her.” I wonder if Dad even knew.
Aiden stares at me, his expression conflicted. “How?”
“He was a fireman. He died saving two kids from a burning building.”
“He sounds like a great man.”
“He was. The best kind of man. He died like he lived…heroically.”
“You’ve had a bad year.”
“The Grim Reaper is a greedy bitch.”
He clanks his beer bottle against mine. “That she is.”
Now he’s quiet, letting me process. There isn’t enough time in the world to process this. I want to make a U-turn in this one-way conversation. Why wouldn’t she tell me any of this herself?
Aiden stares at me with an expression between sympathy and caution. My voice is overly-enthusiastic. “So, I guess you’re the ex-stepbrother I never knew I had.”
“We’re strangers with a person in common. That’s all we are.” The frostiness in his voice sends chills down my spine. Whatever compassion he showed me was short-lived, except there is something in his cold gaze that makes me curious. He’s using cruelty as a tool to keep me distant. I make him uncomfortable on some level. Maybe I should let him sniff my hand…at least in a metaphorical sense.
“We may not be related, but we are connected through a very special person.” He doesn’t respond. Okay, enough sniffing. He doesn’t like me. I get it. “What was my mom apologizing to you for?”
He shrugs. “I’m not really sure.”
I almost laugh. A few hours ago, I was convinced I’d be visiting my mom’s former lover. Now I relax, reassured Mom’s greatest love was Dad. But then I wonder about Aiden’s father. What kind of man was he? Why would she keep this part of her past a secret?
We were as close as a mother and daughter could be, best friends, almost, except when she had to put her foot down, which she did a lot. When I think of the times I laughed the loudest and felt the happiest, those memories always include Mom.
“I’ve come a long way to ask you this question.”
He tips the bottle back and drains it empty. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, all the while avoiding eye contact with me. “My own mom died when she was giving birth to me. Angela practically raised me until I was six. When she left, she never turned back. She didn’t just leave my father. She left me, too. She never kept in touch. That’s the only reason I can think of. But she doesn’t need my forgiveness. I’m a grown man, and her leaving is a distant memory, at best.”
“Why did she leave?”
“She was young when she married. She hated Linx. It’s a small town with small people. She wanted a bigger life.”
I don’t care for his explanation. It makes Mom out to be a fickle girl, not the compassionate, caring woman I love.
“That doesn’t sound like her.”
“People change. You said she was pretty out of it when she told you this last wish of hers? On a lot of drugs?”
“Definitely.”
“Then I’m positive that whole deal was the pain talking. No way Angela wanted to go back to Linx, ashes or not.”
“She did. There were a lot of things she said that made no sense, but this wasn’t one of them.”
“You gonna travel there all by yourself?”
“That’s the plan. I should be in Linx in just a few days. You can meet me there. We can spread her ashes together.”
He narrows his eyes. “I’d rather go to hell than Linx. If you’re smart, you’ll turn around and go home.”
What home?
“Um…thanks for the creepy warning, but I didn’t ask for your advice.”
“You don’t have to ask. I’m offering it free of charge.”
I resist the urge to argue with him. I crave more information, and alienating him further won’t help my cause. “Was it a bad marriage?”
“It wasn’t great, obviously. I honestly don’t remember too much about them together. I missed her when she left, but I got over it quick.”
“What about your father?”
“He got over it, too.”
“May I have his address? I’d like to talk to him.”
He heads to the fridge and swings open the door. “He died. Heart attack, two years ago.”
There are many dead between us.
“Do you have any siblings? Uncles, aunts, cousins? Maybe someone I can talk to down in Linx? I’d like to find out more about my mom’s past.” I almost said my mom’s past life, but I stopped myself. Struggling to take it all in, I realize I’ve always imagined Mom’s life started when I was born. Not literally, of course, but there was always that presumption that none of the important stuff happened until I arrived. How stupid of me.
Although his back is to me, his head inside the fridge, I see Aiden’s stance go rigid at my question. “None of the above. I’m an only child. No other family.”
“Me, too. We have a lot in common. Dad was a foster kid. Mom didn’t have any siblings, and her parents passed away when she was young. Oh, but I suppose you knew that about her.”
“Yeah.”
What the hell is he doing with his head stuck in the fridge? There can’t be that much stuff in there. “I guess we’re both orphans. We’re alone in the world.”
He takes a deep breath before he slams the fridge door. He uncaps another beer. “We have nothing in common, Emma. I don’t go around calling myself an orphan, for one. I’m a grown man.” Although his voice is calm, I flinch at the quiet rage coloring his tone.
He’s blessed with incredible good looks, but the gods must have shorted him when it comes to compassion, at least in relation to other humans. He’s wonderful with dogs. I bite my lower lip to keep it from trembling.
He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Look, I’m not trying to act like an ass.”
“I didn’t think it was an act at all. I can tell it comes naturally for you.”
He lifts his head, his jaw dropping slightly. “You got a smart mouth. It’s gonna get you in trouble one day.”
“I can take care of myself.”
“Famous last words.”
I stand, my legs feeling rubbery, but I will not give him the satisfaction of witnessing my weakness. “I don’t know about that, but they are the last words you’ll hear from me. I’m going now. Sorry to bother you.” Out of habit, I almost say how nice it was to have met him, but why lie?
He follows me out and holds the door for me in some strange gesture toward civility.
“That truck has seen better days,” he says, eyeing it suspiciously. Great, now he’s insulting my ride.
“It’s still got some good days left.”
I bend next to the truck to pet Theo. “Good-bye, handsome.” For some reason, I send a silent message, asking the animal to take care of his master.
“You’re not scared of him.” It’s an observation, not a question.
I stand and brush my yoga pants with sweaty hands.
“Why would I be?”
Aiden shrugs. “Just most folks are scared when they first meet him, because of his size and breed.”
I’m not sure how to describe the instinct I have about this dog, but there’s nothing that frightens me about Theo. “He’s big, but he’s got a gentle heart. Anyone can see that if they bothered to look.”
“Most people don’t bother.” He stares at me as if he expects me to say something more, or maybe because he wants to. The silence grows uncomfortable.
“Well, I should get going. I have a lot of miles to cover.”
“Yeah, you do. Take care of yourself.”
He opens the driver’s side door. It takes a second for me to realize he’s opening it for me. I don’t know what to make of Aiden or all the shocking things about Mom I’ve just learned
. It’s almost too much. The first thing I’m going to do when I leave here is pull into the nearest parking lot and have a good cry, followed by a long talk with the urn.
I hoist myself into the driver’s seat. He shuts the door and steps back. “Good-bye, Emma Cooper.”
“Take care, Aiden Sheffield.”
I crank the engine. The truck doesn’t turn over.
It stalls.
No, no, no, no—come on baby. Don’t do this to me now, especially with him staring at me. I try to turn it again. Nada.
“You’re going to flood it,” he says, on my third attempt. He leans into the open driver’s side window.
“It’ll start. It’s just picky.”
“Picky? It’s about thirty-thousand miles past picky and into downright ornery territory. Pop the hood.” I do as he asks.
Instead of going toward the hood as I expect, he takes a slow walk around the vehicle. From the rearview mirror, I watch as he surveys every rust stain and crack that mars the exterior. He pauses at the truck bed.
Don’t lift the tarp. Don’t lift the tarp. Don’t lift the tarp.
He lifts the tarp.
He looks at the contents for a while before he comes around to the passenger side.
“What’s the deal with all the stuff back there?”
My grip on the steering wheel is so tight I might just leave an indent. “It’s my stuff.”
“Well, I didn’t think you stole it. Why the hell are you driving around with it?”
Sucking in a deep breath, I curse the old truck for letting me down when I need her most. “I had to move out.”
“Didn’t your parents leave you any money?”
Although I don’t care for the question, it sounds more sympathetic than judgmental. I would tell him it’s none of his business, as he did to me earlier, but at the same time, I don’t want him to think less of my parents. “They did. They both had insurance, too, but Mom had a lot of medical bills. Plus, they took out a second mortgage to pay for my college. I had to pay all that off.”
He’s quiet for a moment. “So you’re just caravanning your stuff across the country like a nomad?”
I wish I could mentally make the car start. “I’m moving in with my boyfriend, Kenneth.”
“Oh yeah? Where does Kenny live?”
“Kenneth. He prefers Kenneth, and he lives In Los Angeles.”
“Correct me if I’m wrong, but didn’t you just come from California?”
“We’re going to find a place together when I get back. He has three roommates right now. There’s no room for all of my things.” Sometimes I question if Kenneth has room for me.
Aiden shakes his head before making his way to the hood. Judgmental jerk.
“What?” I demand.
“Nothing. Just can’t believe you’re going to drive around like this.”
I couldn’t, either. Kenneth was supposed to find us a place before I went on this trip, but it didn’t happen. I have only so much money set aside for the journey, and a few months’ rent, which won’t go very far in L.A. Still, I suppose a storage unit would have been wise. Not that anyone would be interested in stealing a few photo albums, Mom’s paperbacks, and Dad’s old records. The truth is I can’t entrust the stuff to anyone else. It’s all I have left of them…of me. I dislike Aiden for shedding a spotlight on my stupidity.
He finally lifts the hood. “Turn on the ignition.”
The car rasps as if it is choking and then it goes dead. He tinkers around for a few minutes before telling me to switch it off.
“How often does this happen?” he asks.
“Not often.”
“But it happens?”
“Yes. I had someone look at it. He said it would work fine for the trip to Texas and back.”
Aiden comes around to the driver’s side. He gestures to the napkins on the dashboard. I hand him one and he wipes the grease off his long fingers. “Turn on the lights and the radio.”
The radio’s fine, but the lights glow briefly before dimming. Aiden’s mouth curves into a smile as Sam Cooke’s “Sad Mood” spills forth from the speakers. Yeah, play it again Sam.
“I don’t think there is anything wrong with my battery,” I offer with fake confidence.
“Affirmative—definitely not the battery.”
Suddenly, the radio turns off and on again. Sam does play it again…over and over.
“Maybe it’s haunted,” I suggest.
“That explains it.”
“Really?”
“Hell, no. Your alternator’s shot.” He kicks the driver’s side tire. “You can use a new set of tires, too. These are so bald a sharp blade of grass might pop one. I’m surprised the mechanic didn’t catch all this.”
I never said it was a mechanic, but I don’t correct him. Kenneth checked out the car when he came for a visit last week, and declared her good to go. I really don’t want any more of Aiden’s judgment, so I keep quiet and get out of the car to check out the tires for myself. He’s right. If I hadn’t been so distracted with everything, I would have noticed their lack of tread. There’s nothing I can do about the tires right now, but the alternator needs my immediate attention.
“Will you jump me? She’ll start up with a good jump.”
His smile is slightly sinister. I feel a low heat creeping in my belly when I replay what I just said.
“I can jump you, but it’s only a short-term solution. It won’t satisfy the long-term problem.”
“Where’s the closest mechanic?”
“It’s Sunday. No one’s open.”
“No one at all?”
He shakes his head. “Butte Falls is a small town. Shops close early, and they’re closed all day on Sunday.” Aiden leans against the truck. “Why don’t you stay over? Tomorrow, I’ll run to the parts store, fetch you a new alternator, and install it myself. I’m no mechanic, but I understand cars.”
“I can’t impose. Just jump me and I’ll figure it out farther down the road.”
I bite the inside of my cheek. Why do I keep begging him to jump me? What the hell is wrong with me?
He doesn’t smirk this time. Instead, he kicks a few pebbles.
“Even though I come off like an ass, I did care for your mom. I can’t let her daughter leave on a long trip in a vehicle that’s not roadworthy. It’s dangerous. Let me fix this for you. I want to.”
I can tell it’s difficult for him to say this—that kindness is easy when it extends to animals, where the gestures aren’t complicated with double-meanings and assumptions.
“Thank you, Aiden.”
He moves his head down in the slightest nod. “Welcome.”
“I’ll pay you for your time and the parts.”
“Don’t worry about it. It’s not a big deal.”
“It is. I insist.”
“Whatever helps you sleep at night.”
I want to tell him I’m touched by his offer, but it would make things more uncomfortable. Instead, I hand him my duffle bag, then I undo the seat belt and take the brass urn from the passenger seat.
His eyes fix on the urn. “Is that…?”
“Yes.”
He reaches for it.
“I can carry it,” I say, wrapping my arms around it possessively.
His smile is sad. “You’ve been carrying it for a long time, Emma. Let someone else carry it for a while.”
A surge of emotion envelops me as he takes the urn. I fight the urge to snatch it back, but I also feel lighter. He handles it carefully, tucking it close to his chest with my duffle bag slung across his shoulder.
Okay, Aiden, you carry it for a while. It’s gotten too heavy for me.
Chapter Four
Emma
Aiden shows me my room for the night and the bathroom. He places my bag on the queen-size bed and leaves me to get settled. I call Kenneth right away. I tell him all about Aiden and the things I’ve found out. He replies with monosyllables, except when I ask him about his new DJ gig. T
hen we talk for a whole hour about that. I’m hurt he doesn’t show much interest. I’m confused about our relationship in general right now, but I’ve had my fill of emotion for the day and can’t really handle much more.
“I wish you could be here for my gig,” he says.
“Me, too.”
“It falls on your birthday, so you could actually come. I’d buy you drinks all night.”
“I’d love to be there, but I have to finish this for my mom.”
“I get it, babe. Just promise me I get to see you in your birthday suit as soon as you get back.”
“Any luck on apartments?” I ask, redirecting the conversation. I want to alleviate one of the nagging worries spiraling through my head.
“Not much out here in our price range. I’ll keep looking, though. I should have some leads by the time you get here. Even if I don’t, you can always crash here for a while. The guys would be cool with it.”
I imagine living in the tiny apartment with no privacy and sleeping in Kenneth’s twin bed in a room he shares with another dude. “Keep searching. Not to sound ungrateful, but I really can’t handle living with three guys who haven’t figured out that the toilet seat is on a hinge.”
He chuckles. “Don’t worry, babe. I’m on it.”
“We don’t have to move in together, Kenneth. I can find a place on my own or something.”
“Where’s this coming from? You getting cold feet? Wasn’t this always the plan?”
I’d been living in the dorms for the past few years, but that isn’t an option now that I’m no longer a student. Kenneth is right that this is the plan. I had been confident in it once, except for the part about telling my dad, who’d never cared much for Kenneth even though our parents were best friends. I cringe, remembering the way the vein in my dad’s neck pulsed as he launched into a lecture that usually began with a stern You’re smarter than that, Em, but would always end with an I love you.
“I just don’t want us rushing into something.”
“Rushing? We’ve been together for three years. We’ve known each all our lives. Relax, Emma. We got this.”
I swallow back any more arguments because he’s right. Kenneth is my comfort zone. He’s my best friend, my first kiss, my sounding board, my guy. My life has been on this out of control, crash-and-burn course for so long, that I’m oversensitive.