by Ella Fields
“Don’t what? Remind you of the life this kid will be interrupting? The one my asshole friend keeps interrupting?”
I stared up at him, beseeching. “I’m happy. He makes me happy.”
Our gazes stayed locked a minute, and I almost lost the precarious hold on my emotions when his eyes misted. “’Kay, Steve.” A smile crawled into place as he walked over and chucked me under the chin, his guitar pick poking into my skin. “If you’re happy, I’ll try to ignore the bullshit and be happy too.”
“Thank you,” I croaked, rising and wrapping my arms around him, sneaking beneath his guitar.
His fingers glossed over my hair, and he whispered, “Just don’t let him treat you like shit, all right? Promise me.”
“I won’t, and he’s not. I promise.”
We stepped back, and he rammed his hands into his hair, pulling it in two different directions as he chuckled. “An uncle. Well, shit.”
“What’s happening?” Dale’s voice boomed into the room. “Let’s go already.”
I glanced over to see him flapping his hands in the window. “I guess he’s still taking his job as momager seriously?”
“Fucken’ oath, he is.” Hendrix flipped Dale off. “But in all honesty, we’d be worse off without him.”
“Agreed,” Everett said, entering the cavernous space and striding toward me.
“The only time I wanna see those flimsy ass fingers move is when you’re bent over your guitar, asshole. Time is money, and you’re all fucking wasting it.” A shriek from the speakers followed Dale’s shouted words, and I winced, rubbing my ear.
Everett took me by the waist, and I kissed his chest, whispering, “Hendrix knows. I told him.” Craning my neck back, I found his gaze riddled with questions, but I just smiled. “He’s okay. You need to go.” Looking like he was about to protest, I stabbed a finger at his chest. “I’ll be here, and I’ll be fine.”
He exhaled a frustrated breath but conceded and grabbed his guitar, which had been lying on the couch, before following Hendrix into the adjacent room.
I took a seat again, realizing I’d left my purse at work. But it didn’t matter.
When that recording light came on, I rested my head back against the couch and relaxed.
Walking through the shop and out into the darkening street, I checked my phone. A missed call from Aiden had my steps faltering as I neared my car.
I thought he would’ve left. But he’d tried to call at least every second day over the past few weeks and had even sent texts. I ignored them.
I didn’t want to dish out the same treatment he’d fed me, but things with Everett were good, and no matter how much I longed to speak to him, to just hear his voice and see how he was doing, regardless of what’d happened, I didn’t want to mess that up. We’d even scheduled my first sonogram for early next week.
I stared at his name a moment longer, then pushed the temptation away and drove home.
Pulling over outside the house, I grabbed my bag and jumped out, then almost screamed when I caught a dark figure standing near the hedges lining the walkway to my front door.
With a hand over my pattering chest, I murmured, “Aiden?”
“Figured the only way to get you to see me would be to wait for you at sunset like a true stalker.” His attempt at humor fell flat, and he raked a hand over his thick hair, which had grown out on top, but was cropped close to his scalp on the sides. “I’m sorry, Stevie.”
“I watched a couple of your games,” I said, for lack of anything else to say. “You’re doing great.”
“Was,” he said with a sigh. “I don’t know if I’m going back.”
My feet shifted, my keys digging into my palm. “You’re under contract. You have to.”
“My dad’s one of the best attorneys in the state. You think he’d let me sign something without an escape clause?” He chuckled. “Besides, some little blonde thing was taking up too much room in my brain.”
I blinked. “But the model…”
Grimacing, that dimple popped in his cheek as he tucked a hand in his pocket. “You fucked me up, Stevie. For the longest time, I didn’t think I’d ever want to see you again.”
“Yet you’re here.” A gentle statement.
“I’m here.”
I cleared my throat. “I thought you would’ve left after, well, you know.”
“Finding out you’re pregnant with that asshole’s baby? Yeah, I thought I would’ve too. I tried, but I don’t know, something stops me every time.”
It hurt. It cut and burned me to say it. “Don’t let that something be me, Aiden.”
His dark eyes caught mine, locking tight. “You don’t get to tell me what to do or how to feel.”
I was being plucked at the seams. Everything that I’d tried to bury resurfaced within minutes. “I need to get inside.” I made to walk by him, but he slid his hand around my wrist.
Voice low, with vehemence shouting at me through his eyes, he said, “I don’t care if you’re having his kid.” He bit his lips, then shook his head. “No, I do fucking care. It kills me, Petal. But I can’t just stop loving you because that’s happened. I wish I could, but I can’t.”
Tears blurred. “Stop.”
“No, so I’m here. I’m here until you’re willing to talk to me.”
“There’s nothing to talk about. At the first sign of trouble, you left. You blocked me from your life completely.”
“So he can do that to you for years, but I can’t fuck up once?”
“Fuck you, Aiden. That’s different.” I tried to pull free, but his grip tightened.
“It’s not, and you know it. Yeah, his brother died. That’s fucking terrible, but it doesn’t give him a right to stomp all over you because he’s still saddled with guilt.”
Horrified, I wrenched my wrist free. “You’re a real bastard, you know that?”
“You’re only saying that because you know it’s true. My mom died when I was just a kid. Do you see me acting like a self-absorbed shithead?”
A shallow laugh left me. “Yeah, actually. I do.”
His eyes closed, and he set free a loud exhale. “I’m sorry. It’s just—”
“How about instead of trying to make your absence seem more acceptable than his, you just fucking apologize and admit you were wrong? Because you were, Aiden. You were wrong to judge what you saw before giving me a chance to explain. You were wrong to leave me broken on the sidewalk as you drove away. And you were wrong to ignore me for weeks on end when I so desperately needed you.”
I stopped, drawing in a burning breath as tears rimmed my eyes. “You were wrong because I wanted it to be you, and all I wanted was you.” My voice caught. “But then you left.”
“Stevie.” He grabbed my face. “Don’t cry. Fuck.”
My head flopped to his chest, and the scent of his cologne had me shaking as I tried to steady my breathing and push everything back down.
“I fucking love you,” he whispered, choked. “You’re having his baby. I don’t know how to compete with that, but I can’t leave.”
That broke the spell, and I moved back. “I’m not asking you to compete with anything.”
Panic struck his expression. “You’re right. What I did was beyond messed up, but you have me by the balls. You have since the day I first saw you. I didn’t want to share your heart, so I needed to see if I could shake you.”
“All or nothing,” I said quietly, a pinching tightness clamping around said heart. “Turns out, I’m not exactly able to just stop loving someone.”
Aiden stepped forward, the moon highlighting the pained angles of his cheeks. “I can try—”
A throat cleared down on the sidewalk, and my blood ceased flowing, every muscle in my body freezing as Everett came into view. “You can fuck off now.”
Aiden closed his eyes. When he reopened them, that troublesome glint had reappeared. “I’m good where I am, thanks.”
Everett’s jaw turned to stone as he eyed whe
re I stood on the steps, then he marched over, getting right up in Aiden’s face. “I was being polite, so let me rephrase that. Get the fuck out of here before I rip that smarmy smile off your pretty boy face.”
My ears began to ring.
“Aww, you think I’m pretty?” Aiden drawled, stepping chest to chest with Everett. “You’re kind of sweet for a drunk.”
With a growl, Everett shoved Aiden, hard, and I raced down the steps, screaming at them to stop. “Cut it out. Aiden, go home.”
“Sure.” He steadied himself, then brushed his hands down his chest, eyes thinned on Everett before he flashed me that crooked smile. “You know where to find me, Petal.”
“The fuck did he just call you?” Everett headed for Aiden’s retreating back.
“Everett, stop.” I forced as much as I could into the words. “Please.”
They were still evenly matched in height and weight. But even though Aiden was likely fitter, stronger, Everett knew how to throw his weight around and fight dirty.
Thankfully, he stopped, shoulders tense, and watched Aiden zoom down the street in his Audi.
Hardly daring to breathe, I waited for him to turn around.
Crickets pierced the air, the warm breeze doing nothing to wash away the cold icing my skin.
With his back to me, Everett’s question hit my ears, a threatening but soft cadence. “Do you still love him?”
Chills swept up my arms and wrapped around my vocal cords.
No sound came out of me, even as I opened my mouth to… what? Try to reassure him in some way? I didn’t want to lie, but I didn’t want to admit the heart-searing truth we’d skated over these past few months either.
A self-deprecating laugh rumbled out, and he turned, pinning me where I stood with a glacial fog filming his green eyes. “You can’t even lie to me, can you? Just once.” He lowered his head, his hand sinking into his hair. “Fuck, Stevie.”
Panic forced my feet into action when he took off, rounding the corner. “You said you wouldn’t leave.”
He stopped but didn’t look at me. “I’m not going anywhere, but I can’t be near you right now.”
Then he was gone, and me and my malfunctioning heart were on our own.
A whole day passed before I was finally able to breathe easier.
I rushed to pick up my phone. “Hello?”
The sound of guitars and laughter filled the background, and then his voice. “Clover. Tell me you love me.”
“I love you. I’ll always love you.”
His heavy exhale swamped my ear. “I’ll pick you up after we get done. You’re staying at my place tonight.”
He hung up, and I smiled, setting the phone down.
“I take it everything is right again in the world?” Adela asked, towel drying her hair in my doorway.
“Yeah,” I said, ignoring the prick that stabbed at my chest. “I think it is.”
She gave me a weak smile before walking away.
If Aiden was still in town, I didn’t know.
I hadn’t seen him since he’d shown up on my doorstep last week.
Everett and I were supposed to attend a sonogram appointment tomorrow, but he couldn’t get time away from the studio until the following Saturday, so even though he’d urged me not to, I’d rescheduled. So it’d happen a little later than it should, but it would be okay.
Everything was going to be okay.
The festering anger and hurt that lingered with my inability to let go of Aiden completely seemed to have faded. At least, I hoped it had. We were communicating, even if that mainly involved our bodies and our gazes. Everett was too tired to think straight most nights when we finally met up, let alone string a heartfelt sentence together.
Walking into Zoe’s, I glanced around the half-filled wood and brick interior, taking note of the young woman singing on the small stage. Zoe was the only one manning the bar, so I didn’t bother her with questions of Everett’s whereabouts and headed upstairs.
He’d given me a key to his apartment with the car, explaining that I could now drive over and wait for him to finish if I wanted to.
I wanted to. Especially tonight, seeing as I hadn’t heard from him all day. That wasn’t exactly uncommon, but he’d usually text one of his annoyingly blunt messages if he couldn’t talk.
I unlocked his door to the scent of Lysol and tobacco, and it shut behind me with a creaking thud. His bed sat unmade, a half empty pack of cigarettes laid open on his nightstand next to a bottle of Advil.
I dumped my purse on the crumpled gray sheets, then went in search of one of his shirts—my favorite thing to wear when I stayed over. He hadn’t done washing in a while. Opening and closing the drawers, I found precious few items. A glance at the basket by the door displayed a pile of clothes still waiting for attention.
There was a washer and dryer next to the bathroom right outside, and I decided I’d get to those after changing. My bra was starting to chafe, and most days, I couldn’t wait to get it off as soon as I’d put it on.
Plucking out a soft gray shirt that’d fall to my thighs, I began to slide the drawer shut when something rolled to the front.
With my stomach turning, I picked up the bottle. Brown liquid sloshed around as I inspected the contents. Not even a third remained.
He’d had a drink or two since we’d been together, but nothing as hard as this. Usually just a beer with dinner if we’d eat out.
But this… this was expensive. Though I supposed having a large sum of money in the bank and little time to spend it meant splurging on a decent bottle of whiskey wasn’t exactly hard.
It hit me then. The nights I didn’t see him, the clean scent of mint on his breath when I did. I dropped the bottle back in the drawer and closed it. Then, even if it felt like I was crossing a lot of lines, I searched the wardrobe where he kept one or two good shirts, and a pair of Vans and work boots—his combat boots always glued to his feet.
Nothing.
Lowering to the floor, I peered beneath the bed, but only spied a few dust bunnies and one lone sock.
Falling to my butt, I was about to give up, and told myself to get over it, when my head fell back. My hands raked through my hair as I pulled in three deep, measuring breaths.
The air vent.
Grabbing the only chair in the room, reserved for his guitar, I dragged it over, checking its stability before carefully standing and pulling the vent open. I stuck my hand inside, knocking something over. Clanging sounded as I reached for it, and I winced as a bottle rolled out, smacking me in the head before I caught it in time to stop it from crashing to the floor.
Another bottle of Jameson, this one almost full.
Not needing to check whatever else laid inside, I put the bottle back, then closed the vent and hopped down.
After tucking his T-shirt away, I rubbed my throbbing head and locked the door on my way out.
Uncertainty plagued me. Unsure what to say to him, seeing as he never said he’d stopped drinking entirely, just that he wasn’t doing it all the time anymore, I couldn’t find a way to reason with what I’d found, or if I should bring it up with him.
There was a good chance he’d be upset I’d gone snooping.
There was also a good chance he’d only been drinking on the odd occasion when he needed to.
There was a good chance of anything when it came to Everett Taylor.
Yet I could still feel the weight of the almost empty bottle of Jameson in my palm, long after I finally fell asleep.
The next morning, I woke to the sound of my phone ringing.
Sunlight exploded through the open blinds, spraying rays of light over the shadows in the corners of the room.
“Clover?” He sounded tired. “I’m so fucking sorry. I fell asleep at the studio; we lost track of time.”
I smacked my lips together. My eyes closed, sleep lingering on the fringes of my mind as what I’d found last night in his apartment tried to wake me up. “It’s okay. I figured as much
when I came over and didn’t hear from you.”
“You’re at my place?”
“No.” I cleared my throat, then turned onto my side, yawning. “I came home.”
Quiet hovered over the line. “Did you sleep okay?”
“Would’ve been better if you were here.”
A sigh left him. “Tonight. I promise.”
“Whatever you say, rock star.”
He chuckled, then paused, coughing. “Sorry. Fuck me, I feel like I’ve been on a ten-week bender without the partying to show for it.”
There might’ve been no party, but he was clearly hungover.
I tried to laugh, but it wasn’t going to happen. “I need to get ready for work. You should get some breakfast. Drink some water.”
He hummed. “We’re starting, but I’ll grab something in a bit. Don’t forget the vitamins.”
I smiled, picturing the stern look on his face when he’d bought them for me. “Okay. Oh, and I need to go bra shopping.”
“Yeah?” He sounded more alert.
“Uh-huh. Mine are getting too tight. I think I need maternity ones.” It was times like this I’d wished I’d told Mom already, but Everett was great about making sure I had everything I needed. Still, I made a mental note to call her once we’d had the first scan done. Once I had even more confirmation that this wasn’t some crazy, farfetched dream.
“We’ll go this weekend.”
“You sure? They’re probably not going to be all that sexy.”
“Fuck sexy. I want my tits taken care of.”
I did laugh then and cursed at his ability to make every worry he’d caused fall away with just the sound of his voice.
“What time is the sonogram tomorrow?” Adela called from the bathroom.
“Two,” I said around a mouthful of Doritos.
“And Everett is going?”
“Yup.” I grabbed the remote, clicking through channels.
Adela exited the bathroom in a cloud of perfume and hairspray. “How fucking exciting. Are you finding out the gender?”
“Too early for that, but yeah. Don’t exactly have the funds to go out and buy stuff that’s not yellow or green once he or she arrives.”