11. Aspen
11
ASPEN
M y handful of popcorn is halfway to my mouth when the doorbell rings. Begrudgingly, I pause my movie and shuffle my slipper-clad feet to the door. If it was daytime, I could pretend I’m not at home, but that definitely won’t work with practically all the lights on around the first floor.
Peeking out the side window, I almost yelp when I realize who’s on the other side of the door.
Because of course he is.
Looking down at my outfit, I take in my pajama shorts with the knee socks and baggy sweatshirt. Undoubtedly, I’m a dream right now.
“You gonna open the door?” Phoenix asks with a nervous chuckle, and it startles me because I definitely forgot he could see me.
Fuck it.
Turning the knob, I pull it open and brace my shoulder against the corner of the door. “What are you doing here?”
Instead of answering, Phoenix’s gaze slides down my body, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he continues to take me in.
“I was wondering if you’d go for a walk with me,” he says, his voice hoarse and his eyes blazing when they meet mine. Nothing about the way he’s looking at me suggests he only wants to go for a walk, and I need to be strong.
“Why?”
“So we can talk.”
“Just talk?”
“Might be nice,” he says, shoving his hands in his pockets as a small smile graces his lips.
“I really don’t want to put on pants.”
His eyes snap to my legs before he’s tilting his head back to stare at the ceiling. “I don’t want you to either, but it might be cold on our walk.”
“I haven’t agreed to a walk.”
“Please, Aspen?”
My mouth opens and closes without making a sound. My name falling seductively from his lips has heat rushing to my core, which is ridiculous but I can’t help it. I could probably count on one hand the number of times he’s said my name since we met.
And half the time, I’m convinced he can’t even remember it.
“Fine,” I say, my response a little breathier than I would have liked as I spin away and walk toward my room, leaving him in the open doorway.
I hear his boots on the mat as he steps inside and out of the cold, muttering under his breath. It’s pretty mild tonight but still not my choice for a casual jaunt around town.
Throwing on an oversized sweater and a pair of fleece leggings, I do my best to tame my hair but forgo makeup because he knows I’m not wearing any, and if I put some on, he’ll know I’m trying and I can’t have that.
Because I’m not trying, not yet.
Returning to the living room, I turn off the television and stare longingly at the couch and blanket I’d been curled up in not long ago. Picking up the popcorn bowl and my glass, I make my way into the kitchen and set them on the counter.
“Ready?” he asks and I shrug.
“As I’ll ever be.”
“Have you ever been to the beach in the winter?” Phoenix asks as we walk along the shore. The wind is cold coming off the water but it’s beautiful, dark and glassy as the moonlight dances off the waves.
“I haven’t. Venturing out in the cold isn’t really my forte unless I have to,” I say wryly, staring at him from the corner of my eye.
He chuckles and it’s deep and sexy and delicious.
“Well, thank you for making an exception tonight.” His words are earnest, and warmth floods through my chest. “I wanted to apologize.”
“For?” I ask, my hands balling into fists in the pockets of my jacket, my brain already conjuring a thousand things he could say to let me down easy.
“Aspen,” he says, his hand gripping my elbow and pulling me to a stop, “don’t get mad yet.”
“Then talk faster.”
Releasing my arm, he moves his hand to settle on my lower back, guiding me back down the beach.
“Did you know that Bristol’s husband passed away?”
“Yes,” I say warily. “She’s told me a little bit.”
“Davis was like another brother to me. He was a great guy—perfect for Bristol and we all felt his loss when he died. I was in college and I’d been dating this girl.” He pauses as if being sucked back into that time. “Losing him rocked me to the core, and in an unusually impulsive moment, I asked my girlfriend to marry me.” Turning his handsome face to look at me, he adds, “She said no.”
“I’m sorry.” Dueling reactions course through me as I wait for him to speak—jealousy and anger and relief and sadness all fight to be at the forefront.
“She was right to say no.” His fingers draw little circles on my back, the heat of his touch seeping through every single layer. “I didn’t love her enough to marry her. But I’d wanted so desperately to hold on to the vibrance she brought to my life.”
“It might not have been the best choice but it’s understandable. You were grieving.”
“I was. But instead of facing that head-on, separating my feelings from reality, I told myself that it was her that had hurt me.” He swallows. “Not her particularly, but the idea of her—the qualities I’d been drawn to.”
“Phoenix…” Blood roars in my ears as he pulls us to a stop again.
“I was really quick to shove you into that box when you came to Magnolia Point. It was wrong and I’m sorry.”
“Huh,” I manage finally, because of all the things I thought he’d say tonight, this wasn’t one of them. We’ve only been out here a short while, but I’m already at my emotional limit. I feel wrung out and while part of me is thankful for the conversation, I can’t help being annoyed.
“You know,” he says wryly, “I was kind of anticipating a bigger reaction.”
“What, like me throwing myself into your arms and forgiving you for being a douche canoe the last year?”
He tries to school his expression but his lips still twitch. “Douche canoe is a highly underrated insult.”
“It is and it happens to be one of my favorites.” I shrug. “I use it every chance I get and this, ”—I wave between us—“is the perfect example.”
“Noted,” he says, pulling me close enough he can wrap one arm around my back and brush a piece of hair from my face with the other. “For the record, I didn’t think you’d throw yourself into my arms. I actually was bracing myself for being slapped.”
“You picked the wrong sister for that,” I muse, thinking of the football player in high school that grabbed Vienna’s ass. He’d been suspended and Montana had taken her out for ice cream.
“I just want you .”
“Then impress me,” I say, pushing out of his embrace and taking a step backward in the sand.
“This doesn’t count?” he taunts and I shake my head, looking up at the inky-black sky dotted with stars.
“Not even a little.”
“Well, I think I know just the thing.”