Dump and Chase: Nashville Assassins: Next Generation

by Toni Aleo

  He doesn’t say anything. He just turns to look around the room. “I’m not supposed to think it’s weird that you remember my place back in New York, right?”

  “Right. We are ignoring that.”

  He swallows hard again. “Okay.”

  “I unpacked all your bathroom stuff and put it away,” I say, moving my hand toward the bathroom, but then I start out the door. I feel as if I’m rambling, and if I am, it’s because he doesn’t seem very impressed by my amazing organization skills. My mom says I’m a genius, and I need Aiden to realize that before I start feeling like a weirdo. I bite the inside of my cheek and try to ignore the warning signs in my head that Aiden has decided I’m a freak. “I put away all your kitchen stuff, but I noticed you only had plastic plates—which, you’re almost thirty, you need real plates. I went to Pottery Barn and picked out this gorgeous set,” I say, going over to the bar and holding up one of the plates. “It’s a housewarming gift.” His brow is still furrowed, and his arms are now crossed over his chest. I lick my lips to keep from freaking out. “I made my mom’s famous fried chicken and mashed potatoes for lunch. I know you like her sweet tea, so I made some. I know it’s not very health conscious like your mom has been cooking, but I figured, why not?”

  “Thanks, I guess.”

  “You guess?”

  He shrugs as he looks around. “It’s just a lot.”

  “A lot?” I ask, breaking down each syllable.

  He meets my gaze and nods. “You unpacked my whole apartment, and you remembered what my other place looked like. That’s weird.”

  “I thought we weren’t discussing that.”

  “Shelli, it’s hard not to. I didn’t expect this. I thought you’d be waiting for me naked and we’d go at it some more. Not for you to completely unpack and cook for me. I didn’t ask you to do this.”

  I bite the inside of my cheek as my heart pounds in my chest. “I know. I did it to be nice.”

  “It’s weird.”

  “It is not!”

  “Shelli, you put away my underwear. Bought towels for my bathroom. It’s all very intimate.”

  I make a face. It is, but I’m not admitting that. “It’s not like we don’t know each other. We grew up together. It’s different for me. Maybe after a first date with a girl that you don’t know, yes, this would seem way out of line. But I helped pack you to move you to New York. I know you.”

  He holds his hands up, moving them around his head frantically. “Wait. What first date?”

  Now my brow is furrowed. “Last night.”

  “We had sex.”

  I am pretty sure there is steam coming out of my ears.

  “Shelli, come on. Don’t look at me like that.”

  “Like what?” I sneer.

  “Like you’re about to throw that plate at me.”

  I let go of the plate and take a step back. “Tell me something, Aiden. What are we doing?”

  “What are we doing?” he asks incredulously. “You said we didn’t have to know what we’re doing!”

  “That was when I thought you liked me.”

  “I do like you.”

  “Then why are you being weird?”

  “Shelli, we fucked last night, and I thought we would today. Thought we’d order in and then go at it some more. But I come home to this madness—”

  I blink back the tears. “Madness?”

  “Yeah, it’s a lot to digest. No one has ever done this for me.”

  “And if it were Stella or your mom who did this?”

  He makes a face. “They’re my family. You’re you.”

  “Which is?” I ask, and his mouth just opens, no words coming out. I see the panic in his eyes. I want to feel sorry for him, but the proof is in the pudding. “That’s right—just a fuck.”

  I blow out a breath and walk around the bar as he says, “Shelli, that is not true.”

  He tries to grab me, but I move out of his grip. “Fuck you, Aiden Brooks.”

  I need to get out of here. I grab my phone and my keys.

  “Shelli, please, stop. Calm down.”

  I whip around. “Do not tell me to calm down. You’ve hurt me twice now, Aiden. I’m done.”

  “I’m not trying to hurt you. Please, take this in from my point of view.”

  I shake my head and walk toward the door as he calls my name.

  “I don’t want you to leave. Let’s talk about it.”

  “Talk about what? I can open my legs for you, but I can’t help you with your place. Cool. I know where I stand, but I’m better than that—”

  “That’s not fucking true. Calm the hell down and talk to me!”

  I glare. “Go find someone else to open her legs for your uncool, man-bun self who’s scared of tattoos so you don’t even work in the cool, long-hair dude kind of look! Shave your stupid head to match your bare skin! Asshole!”

  His eyes widen as I slam the door shut, and I swallow back the tears. I rush down the hall and pray he doesn’t chase me.

  Thankfully, he doesn’t.

  And it hurts.

  When I get to my truck, I text Nico that I’ll meet him at Brooks House, even against my better judgment. Knowing me, since I’m butthurt right now, I’ll probably go to bed with him just to feel better. It’s pathetic and sleazy, but I feel shitty. Why doesn’t Aiden want me? His place looks amazing, and I cooked damn good food. I get that this would be weird if I were some new chick, but he’s known me since I was born. Surely he knows how I like stuff clean.

  But then, does he even care to know me?

  I’m about to pull out of the space when my phone starts ringing. I look down in the hope it’s Aiden, but of course, it’s not. It’s my mom.

  “Hey, Mom.”

  “Hey, can you do me a favor and pick up the boys at two thirty? I have a meeting.”

  “Yeah, that’s fine.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Why are boys stupid?”

  She pauses. “I don’t know, honey. I’m pretty sure it’s your father’s fault, but what did they do?”

  I let my head fall to the steering wheel. “No, I mean boys in general. Not Owen and Evan.”

  “Oh, that’s a relief,” she says on a sigh. “I don’t know, honey. I didn’t even know you were involved with anyone.”

  “I’m not anymore.”

  “Well, that doesn’t sound good.”

  “I just don’t get it,” I say, shaking my head. “I bought a beautiful plate set for his ass, and he basically called me weird.”

  She whistles. “Oh, honey. You don’t buy a guy plates. It always goes bad.”

  I make a face. “What? Why?”

  “I don’t know. I did the same for your father when we were dating, and he got all weird on me. Something about he liked his white plates. I don’t know, honey. Guys are strange when it comes to their stuff. It’s something to do with their bachelorhood. I don’t get it, but they want their things left alone. Now, when they fall in love, that’s when you swoop in and take over. That’s what I did. Now, Daddy loves anything I buy.”

  I know she said it to be funny, but I’m so mad. “He didn’t even have plates, Mom! He just moved in to a new place, and I remembered what his old place looked like, so I did it all while he was at work this morning. I thought he would be impressed by my awesomeness, but he was all freaked out.”

  “How long have you been dating him? Not too long, right?”

  “No, but I knew him in New York.”

  “Are you two in a relationship?”

  I make a face. “Nope. Guess not.”

  “Oh, well… I mean, I can understand why he’d be freaked out. It does seem like something you would do in a relationship.”

  I close my eyes. “You don’t know all the details.”

  “Tell them to me, then.”

  “I can’t, Mom. I don’t want to talk about it.”

  She pauses, and I know she’s annoyed. “Why did you do it?”

  I shrug, eve
n though I know she can’t see me. “I wanted to make him happy. Take a little of the work off him since he’s so busy. Plus, I love organizing stuff.”

  “I know, but honey, was it your place?”

  I bite my lip. “I don’t know. I think I wanted it to be.”

  “Exactly,” she says softly. “I think you may have rushed into this, romanticizing the situation. And when he freaked, you got your feelings hurt.”

  “Because he was an asshole and didn’t even want to admit that we have something going on. It’s all just sex for him.”

  “Oh, baby, sometimes that’s all it is.”

  “I know that,” I snap, and I glare at my steering wheel. “I just wanted this to be different.”

  “Maybe you should talk to him.”

  “I don’t want to. It’s all over anyway. Fuck him.”

  “My goodness, Shelli Grace. Don’t hold back what you’re feeling.”

  I roll my eyes. “I gotta go, Mom.”

  “Okay, baby. But it’s all right. It will work out if it’s supposed to. You’re smart, beautiful, successful, and kicking ass at your internship. You’re gonna have my job in no time.”

  I don’t even smile. “Thanks, Mom.”

  “Chin up, sweetheart.”

  We hang up, and I shake my head. My mom would be embarrassed with how I acted up there in Aiden’s place. I sounded so immature in his condo. But in my defense, he’s an asshole. My mom always told me when I was younger and a boy would hurt me, “Stupid boys make you say stupid things.”

  Aiden Brooks is a stupid boy.

  But then, am I a stupid girl? Did I rush into this and romanticize the situation? My mom doesn’t even know what happened, but she may be onto something. I wanted to make him happy. I wanted to impress him. But he hurt me. I thought I was doing something nice, helpful, but he made me feel like a freak.

  A fuck.

  Why does that hurt so bad?

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  AIDEN

  SINCE WATCHING SHELLI WALK OUT, I’ve felt like utter shit.

  Her eyes were filled with such pain and anger that I can still see them even hours after the fact. I didn’t want that look on her face, and I sure as shit didn’t want to be the one to put it there. It all freaked me out, though. I didn’t expect to come home to her unpacking and organizing the way she did. I thought she’d lie around and be lazy until I got back. I thought we’d spend the day in bed until she had to go to work. I never thought she’d work her ass off to unpack me. I know I should have been appreciative, and I am since I haven’t had time to do it, but it freaked me the fuck out.

  My mom or even Stella or Emery, sure, it would be totally normal for them to come and do it, but not Shelli. It’s something a girlfriend or spouse would do. I don’t know how many times I saw my mom do things for my dad growing up. She was always there for him, doing the little things and the big things. It felt like Shelli was being there for me in that way, and it rattled me.

  But I never meant to hurt her.

  I don’t get what the hell is wrong with me when it comes to her. I’m not a dick, but for some reason, I can’t seem to express what I’m feeling. I could have handled that so much better. I could have told her that it felt very girlfriend/boyfriend, and I don’t know if I’m ready for that. In all reality, I know I can’t have that with her, which is why I think I keep pushing her away, when really, I want her. I want her so bad. I want her all the time, but I can’t seem to say that without being a dick first.

  She scrambles me. She makes me feel things I’ve never felt, and I don’t like that. I like my life the way it is. I play hockey, and I fuck when I want. It’s a good life. But since that night in New York, she’s all I want. As I held her last night, I couldn’t think of anywhere I wanted to be more. She felt so damn good in my arms. She felt so fucking right, and when I walked away, I missed her. So why can’t I say that? Why do I continue to say stupid shit that hurts her?

  I honestly don’t even know why I’ve come to Brooks House. I want to talk to her. But if I were her, I wouldn’t want to talk to me. She’ll probably tell me to fuck off, but I have to try. I have to apologize. I don’t want this to end. I just need to tell her what is going on in my head. Problem is, I don’t know what that is. It’s a fucking shitshow up there right now. I want to try, but what if I mess it up? What if I hurt her more? What if her mom fires me and her dad puts me six feet under? Why is this so hard?

  Why do I want her so much, when I know it won’t work?

  Even knowing that, I still find myself walking into Brooks House. I hear her voice the moment I step inside, and it gives me a fluttery feeling in my gut. I head to the bar, sitting at the front so that I can see her, but I know she can’t see me. I don’t want to upset her while she’s singing. I just want to talk to her when she’s done.

  Beautiful as always, she wears a long black dress that dips down so far in the front, I get a great view of the side of her boob. Her hair is down, bone straight, except the top is pulled up in a little topknot. She’s wearing some makeup, but it’s her red lips that make it so there is no room in my slacks. She has her eyes closed as she sings, her lips right on the mic, while her fingers move along the keys with certainty.

  So stunning.

  She finishes with flair, and the room cheers for her. When she stands up, I hold my breath as I watch her grab a guitar. She sits back down, her lips coming to the mic. “This is my last song for the night.” A few people complain, loudly, and she grins. “I know, but don’t worry, the bar has some great music to play for y’all. Anyway, I heard this song today, and with where I’m at right now, I feel it applies. So sit back and enjoy.”

  Her fingers start to move over the guitar just as her voice fills the bar. A hush falls over the room as she sings. I love how her eyes close, how her lips stay on the mic as she sings. She plays the guitar way better than the piano. It’s almost like she’s just breathing instead of picking the right chords. I want to play with her. The song is dazzling, something about not wearing makeup on Thursdays. When she sings that she only wants to feel beautiful, my heart stops. Doesn’t she know she is absolutely exquisite?

  Did I make her feel like she wasn’t beautiful? God, what is wrong with me?

  Once she finishes, she stands up while everyone claps. She takes a bow and says, “Good night, everyone.”

  She puts her guitar in its case, and I get up, ready to go to her. But then I pause. A really tall guy stops at the stage, and when she sees him, her face lights up. She wraps her arms around his neck, and he hugs her tightly to him. When he kisses her, on the mouth, my stomach drops.

  What. The. Fuck.

  She pulls back and gives him a disapproving look. He says something, and then they both just laugh. He takes her hand in his, kissing it before lacing his fingers with hers. She leans into him as they walk toward a booth. When they sit down, I realize I am glaring at them. I have never felt this kind of anger in my life. Even when I got suspended last year after the allegations, I wasn’t this mad. No, I feel as if I’m about to morph into the Hulk.

  I’m pretty sure I know the guy. He’s huge, with long, dirty-blond hair and an ugly mug. He looks so familiar, but I can’t place him. He looks at her like she’s the only one in the room, and that pisses me off. That’s what I want to do. That’s what I am doing. Who the hell is this fucker? When he reaches over, cupping her face, she grins as she leans into his hand.

  And then I’m moving.

  I almost fall out of my chair, I get up so fast, and all I see is red. I feel like I’m stomping toward them, and if I am, I don’t give a fuck. I don’t know what she’s doing, but it isn’t right. As I come to their table, she turns and sees me. Her brows pull together as she moves back, crossing her arms over her chest. I stand there, staring at her as she does the same to me. You could cut the tension with a knife.

  “Yes?” she asks, all sassy and fucking hot. Her chin is up at me defiantly, and her eyes are narrowed.


  “What the hell are you doing?”

  She scoffs. “That’s none of your business.”

  “It is because you were with me just hours ago.”

  She nods. “Yup, and you told me I was just a fuck. So it doesn’t matter what I am doing and with whom. So, bye.”

  “Shelli, I didn’t say that—”

  “Maybe not outright, but you meant it. Now, if you’ll excuse me—”

  “Fuck that,” I say, my eyes burning into hers. “I never meant that. I was overwhelmed. Let me talk to you.”

  “No.”

  “You’re serious? What the hell?”

  “I was doing something nice for you, and yeah, maybe I stepped over the line. But even so, you don’t tell someone they’re just a fuck.”

  “Shelli, I didn’t say that—”

  “You implied it!”

  I look to ugly-mug guy. “Does that make sense to you?”

  He shrugs. “I don’t give a shit. I’m hoping she’s done with you so we can get together.”

  “Really, Nico?” she sneers. “Shut up.”

  “So what, you’re with him?” I jerk my thumb toward the guy.

  She laughs. “None. Of. Your. Business.”

  “It is my business—”

  “It is not,” she says simply.

  “Bro, believe me, we’re something, but she doesn’t want it.”

  I ignore him. “Answer me. Are you with him?”

  “Maybe,” she says, and I don’t miss the smug grin on the fucker’s face.

  “I want to talk to you,” I insist, and I feel like I’m coming out of my skin.

  With her eyes burning into mine, she says, “I have nothing to say to you.”

  “Shelli—”

  “I’m enjoying dinner with someone who wants to spend time with me, so please leave.”

  She looks away, and I glare. “I do want to spend—”

  “With clothes on, Aiden. Goodbye.”

  “Shelli—”

  But then the guy stands, and damn it, he towers over me. “Listen, dude, she doesn’t want to talk to you.”

  “I will knock your head off your fat neck if you don’t get out of my face,” I warn, and he laughs.

  “She doesn’t want you.”