Chapter 25
CHAPTER 25
W henever he wasn’t at the hospital, Aiden tried hard to read. Not medical journals, as he probably should, but mindless fiction, usually legal thrillers or psychological suspense. Also more often than not, he instead nodded off, his face drowsing over his book like a sleepy old man in a warm, comfy room. After one such nodding event, he woke with a start to see June framed in the doorway of his bedroom.
“Hey,” he said, slipping off his reading glasses and setting them on his book.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to disturb your…reading?” She bestowed a teasing smile on him.
“It was riveting,” Aiden said, wiping his eyes. “What’s up?” He patted the bed beside him. She entered and lay down, stretching the full length of her graceful body next to his slightly longer one. There was something pleasing about that, more than aesthetically, but he didn’t dwell on it.
“Nothing,” she said, but she lacked her usual June sparkle. “I came to check on you, actually. Are you upset that Denver and Dad stayed for supper?”
Aiden should have known this was coming. Even though he tried to stay engaged throughout the meal, he had completely withdrawn after Jenna’s bombshell text. “Not at all. I’m sorry, I was trying hard to keep it together, but I got a text from Jenna. She sent me this.” He reached for his phone and held it out to her.
She reached for it, her movements fluid grace. “Oh, wow,” she said softly. Aiden was heartened by the vicarious pain in her tone.
“Looks like she’s living her best life, doesn’t it?” he asked, and he couldn’t help the bitterness that leaked in. Erica had walked away, had left him with everything, and it apparently cost her nothing to do so, if the picture was any indication. She was laughing, head tossed back, looking as carefree as he’d ever seen her.
June handed his phone back and rested her head on the pillow. “Do you know that you and my dad have something in common?”
He set his phone aside on his nightstand and slid down, mimicking her position so they were face to face. “We both adore a girl named June?”
That made her smile and flush a little, but she reached out a hand and lightly poked his sternum. “No. You were both left by the person you love.”
His brows rose. “Your mom left?” No one had ever mentioned her mother. Aiden assumed she died, because how could anyone ever leave June, least of all her mother.
She shook her head. “When I was twelve, she walked away. Just, POOF, gone.”
“June,” he breathed, gently touching the hair at her temple. “I’m so sorry. That must have been really painful.”
“It was, and it wasn’t. I think I always understood that my mom had a serious case of FOMO, fear of missing out. She was enamored with the possibility of who she could be, if she were somewhere else. The way she talked longingly about everything but us, yeah, that was painful. But when she finally pulled the trigger and left, it was like I had complete clarity. Because I saw my dad and Denver and I saw perfection, the best, most wonderful people I’d ever known, and she left them like they were nothing. So I knew she wasn’t leaving us. She was going to try and find herself, for better or worse. It’s the same with you, Aiden. I see you, I see how good and wonderful and amazing you are, and I know without a single doubt that Erica wasn’t leaving you . She’s trying to find herself. Don’t confuse the two, because they are very different. I see you second guessing everything, but I don’t think there was ever one thing wrong with you. It would have happened regardless, sooner or later. You can’t keep what doesn’t want to be kept.”
“I think a part of me knows that, but it helps to hear it. And it still hurts,” Aiden said.
“I don’t think you’d be normal, if it didn’t hurt.”
They lay in companionable silence, studying each other. Aiden was too raw for the normal temptation June presented. Instead it was nice to bask in her friendship, cozy and familiar. “Can I ask you a question?” he said at last.
She tilted her head, indicating he should go ahead.
“If you can see all that so clearly, about your mom, why did you internalize the stuff about Heath?”
She winced, which she did whenever Heath’s name came up. It still felt like a physical blow to hear it, and she didn’t know if it was residual pain over his loss or an actual expectation of a physical blow. She’d received too many of those from him, and now it was almost like she’d been conditioned to receive them. She swallowed hard.
“I guess it’s sort of the reverse. With my mom, her behavior was obvious to everyone. We all universally agreed that we were great and she was messed up.” She paused to smile at him. “With Heath, everyone thought he was amazing. Teachers, coaches, parents, other kids. He was popular with men and women, you know? Charming and easygoing. Absolutely no one saw the red flags, until they dragged me under. He hid it so well. It’s like you said, in my head I know it wasn’t me. I know my behavior didn’t merit his treatment, that I didn’t do anything to make him abusive. But my heart likes to remind me that if I’m the only one who saw that side of him, maybe it was because of me. And even when I get a handle on it and think I’m okay…” she trailed off and waved a hand over herself. “You know what happens.”
He so badly wanted to assure her she would be okay. Before today, he felt positive she would. But one little picture of Erica hit him like a fatal blow. Who was he to assure her of anything?
“We’ll be broken together,” he said, his finger trailing her temple.
“I like that,” June whispered. “It’s nice to have someone along for the journey.” Her index finger caught his and held it, linking them together.
“You must take after your mom, because you don’t look like your dad,” Aiden noted.
“He’s not my biological dad,” June said.
Aiden blinked at her, uncertain how to respond. “What?” he said at last.
“That FOMO I mentioned? My mom always had it, apparently, and tried a few other men on for size during their marriage. One of those produced me.” She pointed to herself.
“How did you find out?”
She puffed a little laugh that was more amazed than humored. “When my mom left us, she wanted me and Denver to come with her. Made it sound like we could all start over without my dad, like he had been the key to our unhappiness, instead of her.” She shook her head, trying to throw that off. “Denver didn’t even reply, just left the house without a word. I guess she thought she had a better shot with me, so she dropped that bomb. ‘Your dad isn’t even your dad.’ I remember staring at her, seeing those words float through the air and hit me like physical blows. I had no idea my dad was even in the house when she said that, but he was, and he heard. He told her to get her things and get out, quietly, like she no longer mattered, like only my heartbreak did. He gathered me up and drove me, well, here, actually. This property, that’s been part of our family for eons. And he said, ‘Junie, I knew before you were born that you weren’t biologically mine, and I knew from the moment I saw you that it didn’t matter, that you were mine, will always be mine. You can go with your mom, if you choose, but that will never change the fact that you are my little girl, and I am your dad.” She swiped at her eyes.
“Wow,” Aiden whispered. He was also choked, picturing the pain of that moment for all of them. Her mother had created so much destruction in her life, and yet June had seemingly overcome it all, as had her dad and brother.
“Yeah. How could I possibly choose her instead of him? Even though I didn’t want her to leave, it wasn’t even a possibility. He loved us so well it healed over all the rough spots she created.”
Previously Aiden had been annoyed by Mr. Kellogg’s overbearing attitude toward June, with the way he’d tried to wholesale offload her. But now he saw the older man as someone aspirational, someone who overcame his own heartache in order to care for and heal the two children in his care, one of whom wasn’t even biologically his. How many men could say the same? How many men could love that deeply or that fiercely? Aiden’s own father was excellent, but he had also never been challenged. He had been married to a stable woman who was his partner in every way, who had taken the brunt of childcare on her own shoulders. How would he have fared if Aiden’s mother ran away and dumped him and his sisters? Would he have maintained stability, while working a fulltime job? For that matter, what would Aiden do? What was he doing now, in the wake of Erica’s abandonment and betrayal?
Suddenly he understood that no matter how deep his own heartache and misery might become, he would always need to make time and energy to care for June. It would be so easy to wrap himself in the cocoon of his pain, but that would only lead to selfishness, to wallowing in a pit of despair. I won’t be that person, he vowed to himself. He had to be better, to keep going, if only for June’s sake. No way would he abandon her in this situation. Bad enough to be in a pretend marriage, but to be in it alone, well, that was a step too far for anyone.
“June, I think you might be the best friend I’ve ever had,” Aiden confessed in a whisper.
“Aiden, same,” June admitted.
“But you have your dad and Denver,” he said. Why was he arguing? He had no idea. He should accept the statement and move on, but it was so unbelievable to him. June felt like someone dropped a sunbeam into his life. It seemed impossible that she could feel the same.
“Yes, but I have to take care of them in a way that never lets me drop my guard or be myself completely. Either they’ll suffocate me or it will break them. You have seen me at my worst, literally saved my life multiple times. There’s no pretense with you, and you have no idea what a relief that is.”
They stared at each other in silence a while. Aiden’s blinks were growing longer. June began to pull away. “I should let you get back to sleep.”
He swallowed hard and held onto her hand. “You could stay, June. Nothing has to happen. You could sleep here, in the bed of horrors.”
“Sleep in the same bed as my husband? That’s a radical idea.” She eased closer.
Aiden mentally reviewed the signs of cardiac distress because his heart thumped so hard he had greater sympathy for anyone who had presented in his ER with heart symptoms. It had never been like this with Erica, not even in those heady early days. His body was a taut bow, and June was the target. Despite his earlier words, his defiant fingers crept closer to her, finding her hip and resting there. June was all willowy sinew, a graceful vine that invited exploration. She sucked in a breath as his traitorous hand eased over her hip and up to the smooth divot of her waist.
June sucked in a breath. “Aiden.”
“Don’t tell me to stop, June.” He wasn’t above begging. Desperation had done this to him, desperation for her.
“My fingers are stuck,” was her soft reply.
Aiden froze. “What?”
She sighed. “Your bed ate my fingers.” Her arm was stretched toward the head.
“What?” Aiden sat up on his knees and began straining for her fingers, trying to see where they were trapped. Somehow she had found a tiny hole, the one that now held three of her fingers captive. “June, if I have to cut apart this bed, I will be forever in your gratitude.”
She gave a watery laugh. “Don’t joke, Aiden. You know we can’t cut this thing apart without a priest present.”
“Because all the trapped souls will come out?” He gave her fingers a little tug and she winced. “Does that hurt?”
“Yeah, kind of a lot,” she said and tears began to stream down her cheeks.
“Okay, okay, I can fix this,” he said, channeling everything he’d ever heard or experienced about getting things unstuck. “I need supplies.” He shimmied off the bed, went to the door, and turned back, pointing a finger at June. “Stay right there.”
June snorted a laugh. “Aiden!”
“Right, right. Be back soon,” he called, his voice echoing down the hall. He returned a while later, a tray loaded with various lubricants, some from the kitchen and some from the garage.
“Ok, let’s try a solid because maybe it will be less messy.” He opened the can of shortening and smeared a little on her fingers.
It did nothing. The fingers were wedged so tightly that it looked like circulation had started to suffer. He’d have to get them out quickly or they might actually have to dismantle the monstrous bed.
“I’m so sorry about this,” June muttered.
Aiden reached to the nightstand, found a Disney cartoon for her on his phone, and stuck it in her free hand. He kissed the top of her head and returned his attention to her stuck hand.
“I’m so predictable,” June lamented, but she sounded almost happy as Cinderella began to play on Aiden’s phone.
He worked for a long time, testing various products. Maybe after this he would write an article on the viscosity of lubricants because some were in no way helpful on June’s stuck hand.
After about a half hour, her fingers had gained a small amount of purchase. They were able to twist, but fell far short of popping free. Aiden’s legs cramped and he felt sweaty and irritable. By nature, he was a fixer. It vexed him not to be able to immediately remove June’s stuck fingers from the bed. But he also knew that, with June, not everything could be a quick fix. She was complex, as was her particular hangup. And he knew if he showed his annoyance, she would withdraw into herself. Any progress he’d made would be lost. She’d spook and withdraw.
So while she was occupied by the cartoon on his phone, he counted to ten a few times, took a few silent breaths, and kept working his way through each of the lubricants, without success.
Her fingers were so far wedged into the tiny hole in the bed, he feared he would have to call the fire department to cut her out. He wiped a bead of sweat off his forehead and probed his brain for a new answer or approach. If lubrication didn’t work, what would? The fingers were close to freedom; they only needed a tiny bit of room to burst free.
“Everything okay?” June asked. “Besides the obvious, I mean.” She bit her lip and craned her neck to look up at him, looking heartbreakingly vulnerable.
“Everything is fine,” he assured her, smoothing his hand over her hair. “I’m thinking. You’ll be free in a minute.”
She sighed wearily and returned her attention to the cartoon. The stretched position had to be uncomfortable, and yet in typical June fashion she was worried about him and his reaction to her predicament. It was clear the lubricants weren’t working and therefore time to try something outside the box.
“Back in a second,” he said. He went to the downstairs closet, opened it, and stared hard at his toolbox.
He only had basic things, because he went from college to an apartment, but he’d received a few things as gifts from his family members, a hammer and set of screwdrivers, for instance. He rooted through them and brought a small selection back to the bedroom.
June watched him with sullen, worried eyes. He knew she wondered if it was time to call someone, probably her father, but Aiden felt like he needed to be the one to do this. For better or worse, he needed to be June’s hero, at least in these scenarios where she found herself in dire straits.
He stuck the claw of the hammer beside her fingers, but it was too big to gain purchase. Next he took the large screwdriver, shimmied it into the opening of the hole, and pulled in the opposite direction. To his astonishment, it worked to widen the opening a tiny bit, perhaps a millimeter, but it could be enough.
“Pull and twist, June,” he told her. It was taking all his strength to push against the weight of the bed and he wouldn’t be able to hold it for long. June did her part by twisting her fingers clockwise as she yanked and, like a corkscrew, her hand popped free.
The rebound was enough to fling the screwdriver from his grasp, except that Aiden had been prepared for it. He held on tight and absorbed it with his body, yanking forward as the screwdriver bounced out of the small hole. He froze for a couple of seconds, because it seemed like the kind of thing that could go horribly wrong, a screwdriver to the eye or soft flesh, but, no, everything was fine. He dropped the tool and reached for June’s hand, soothing it gently with his fingers as he made his inspection.
“Okay?” he asked softly.
She nodded, tugging her hand.
“Hold on, let me make sure it’s okay,” he told her, his finger trailing her hand as he stared at it. The stitches he’d given her a couple of weeks ago were still visible, though they had started to dissolve. She was left with a pale white line on her palm, along with various other scars and bruises from various other things. The new injury upbraided her fingers, and they were also gooey with all the lubricants he’d slathered on her. Why did she have to suffer this way? Sweet, wonderful, and amazing June, why did everything have to be so difficult for her all the time? It wasn’t fair.
“Are you okay?” she asked, and that was when he realized he was petting her hand as he stared at it blankly.
“Yes,” he said, but it sounded like a question. Was he okay? Not really. The longer time went on the more he felt like a failure. He had wanted to fix Erica, to heal the trauma from her past, and look how that ended. Now, thanks to Erica, he needed to fix himself. And what of June? If the past hour was any indication, he hadn’t made any headway at all. She still freaked out and stumbled into catastrophe, the moment things turned intimate. How could he fix her? Himself? Them?
He had no idea, and felt the pressing urge to find an answer soon. They had set a time limit on their relationship. What would happen at the end of six months if Aiden found a solution? Would June really go away?
“I should go,” June whispered softly. He was probably scaring her with his intensity and as much as he wanted her to stay, he knew she probably shouldn’t. Not until he figured things out, not until he found the giant screwdriver that would free them from their current trap.
“Okay,” he croaked and swallowed hard. “Call me if you need me.”
June gave a little nod and disappeared from his room, and Aiden felt bereft. Because she was gone or because she wouldn’t call or because she didn’t need him, he had no idea.