Chapter 5
This week with my sister went by way too quickly.
I’m not sure if it was me or Alysa who squeezed tighter before I left her to return to the cabin.
Probably me—I didn’t want to let her go.
I’d definitely have cracked and never went back to San Francisco after coming here for Christmas.
Goodbyes are the worst part of seeing someone you love temporarily.
After we finally pulled apart, I watched her walk into Denver International Airport before jumping into a taxi. Today was supposed to be my flight home too, but I’d already decided to stay.
Now, all I have to do is let Michael know I’m not coming back… temporarily. Forever.
The entire hour-long drive back to the cabin, I bounce back and forth on how to tell him. I still have until this afternoon—my flight was supposed to be the latest one out. On top of that, I’m supposed to meet the locksmith at the cabin in just a few minutes.
Too much is happening in my head all at once. Fucking Christ.
One thing at a time.
The taxi pulls to a stop in front of Wildhart, and I pay the absolutely outrageous fare for the trip. Transportation is going to cost me a fortune, along with a food delivery service…
Dragging my suitcase over the rocky terrain, I spot a white truck with a sign that tells me they’re here to hand over my new key. As I round the vehicle, I see a middle-aged woman leaning against it, smoking a cigarette.
Once she spots me, she pushes herself off, and puts it out against the car. “Ayden?”
“That’s me,” I say with a compulsory smile.
She opens the driver’s side door and tosses the butt of her smoke into it, before leaning in. “I’ve got your key already made.”
Aren’t I supposed to verify this is my place?
Thankfully that lawyer, Travis, provided the proof so I could give it to the company, but it seems that was unnecessary.
“Thanks.” I know I sound irritated, but whatever. “How much do I owe you?”
“No charge, but you’ll take this off my hands.” As she leans back out, she’s carrying a small pet carrier. My eyes widen as she quite literally thrusts it straight into my arms.
I drop my suitcase, tightening my grip so I don’t let go of the crate—my guess is a cat, judging by the long meow that echoes from inside.
Tripping over my “What the?” I stare at the woman incredulously.
“Clover. My husband picked her up for the Pierce’s and has been looking after her.” I’m not entirely sure why she’s got such an attitude, and it’s only amplified by her southern accent. “She’s a menace to society.”
Before I have a chance to look into the crate that’s oddly large for a feline, the woman is pushing a set of keys in my face. “I made a spare.”
The instant I take them from her, she’s already in her car, slamming the door. I guess I can’t assume everyone here is nice, but damn, it’s like I pissed in her soup or something.
Given the chance, maybe I would.
“Thanks…”
I set the keys on top of the crate and step back as she pulls away. Her tires spit up rocks, and I have to move fast to avoid being pelted. Heaven forbid they hit the cat, who already sounds pretty agitated.
Well... that was a fun way to start my time here.
That’s alright, I don’t expect to have too many interactions with the locals anyway.
I turn and head to the cabin, setting the crate down so I can open the front door.
I’m surprised when the place smells not just clean, but laced with whisky and pine. Outdoors meets fresh, then add sexy-man flavor—that’s the combination, and I don’t hate it. Maybe someone’s been coming in to tidy up.
Though, why’d someone not bring the cat back sooner? Oh shit, the cat.
Stopping myself from doing a full tour before letting out the very feisty-sounding feline, I grab the crate and carry it inside. I crouch, open the latch, and leave the door wide for it to come out if it wants.
My biological mom wasn’t a pet person, but she was outvoted three to one, so we grew up with a dog and a snake. I’ve never had a cat before, though, and truthfully, I’m not sure I’m in a position to take care of one now.
I take a deep breath and glance around the space.
To the left, a set of stairs is tucked behind a half wall, beside a large L-shaped couch that faces a stone fireplace stretching up through the wood-paneled ceiling.
Across the room is an open kitchen, and I’m just stepping toward it when my phone buzzes.
My heart stutters when I see who’s calling.
Deep breaths.
Hitting the green checkmark, I place it up to my ear and clear my throat. “Hey, Mike.”
His deep voice comes through the line quickly. “Hey, babe.” My neck prickles at the pet name, making me feel uncomfortably exposed. I wish he wouldn’t call me that, especially since we aren’t together. “You excited to come home?”
I wet my lips and slowly walk toward the couch. “Um, I was, yeah.”
He chuckles. “You miss me?”
I’m preparing to sit when I realize that’s probably not the best idea. Is pacing better? I’m not sure, but I do it anyway.
“Yeah.” I know it doesn’t sound convincing, so I force myself quickly to keep going. “I was thinking—”
He cuts me off with a laugh. “Uh oh. That’s not good.”
I bring my hand to the back of my neck and rub at the nape. “I’ve decided to stay a little longer.”
For the rest of my life.
“What?” There’s zero playfulness in his tone. “In Colorado?”
The loud meow has me turning toward the crate. She’s still inside, but it’s open, so I’m not sure why she sounds agitated.
“Yes. My parents left the cabin to me.” I strategically leave out it was given to me and my stepbrother. “I think this will be good for me.”
“Why?”
Deep breaths. I’ve got this.
“For my mental health, Michael. I’ve been struggling, and I think it’s because I’m reminded every day of how I fucked up. It won’t be forever.”
Yes it will. I’m never coming back.
“Is it me that reminds you of it?” Fuck. Off. “You know that wasn’t my fault, Ayden.” He groans, and I can hear the grinding of his teeth. “You do this… all the time. You make me feel guilty for what isn’t my fault. When are you going to move on? Is it the accident, or our stupid little fight?”
I squeeze my eyes together and shake my head. “No. It’s not your fault. It’s mine, and I need to figure it out myself.”
There’s silence from his end, and I’ve found myself leaning against a bare wall between the living room and the kitchen. I shift my hand from my neck, down to my forearm.
“We were supposed to work on us when you got back.” His tone is softening, but I can still hear the resentment in it. “How long will you need?”
Forever.
“I’m unsure, a few months maybe?”
It’s as though I can see the twitch in his right eye. It always happens when he’s mad. It comes with a long exhale that feels aimed at me. I don’t know why he’s even trying to stay with me.
“I’ve been patient, Ayden. Now you’re asking for another couple of months?” he hisses through his teeth.
I stare down at my tattoo. A pair of lion eyes set within a perfect rectangle. The design fills the entire space, black and white except for the eyes. Some see them as light brown, but to me, they’re amber.
I take a deep breath to center myself, wet my lips, and say, “This is where I need to be, Michael. Wait, or don’t, that’s up to you.”
Don’t wait for me. Please move on…
“Are you seeing someone else? We’ve barely even been broken up!”
It’s been months…
Shaking my head, I hold in the groan I truly want to release.
“No. Just like I’m not seeing you… right now,” I murmur, adding in that last bit because I really don’t want to fight.
It would spike my anxiety, which is already starting to sprout, and I don’t have anyone here to stop me from falling.
“I’m allowed to make my own decisions. Right? ”
“Of course.” He sighs. “I’m just worried about you, that’s all.” A loud hiss comes from the crate. “You need me. You’ve always needed me.”
The cat’s scratching at the plastic and I can’t understand why it won’t just, you know, walk out. It’s open.
Is she stuck?
“Are you even fucking listening?”
I snap my attention back to our conversation.
“Yes, of course I am… but are you listening to me?” My tone stays very calm, without any hint of aggression. I’m trying to move this conversation along. “I’ve made my decision.”
“Without really talking with me about it. Fine, whatever, Ayden. Selfish decision as always.”
Then the line goes dead.
I squeeze my phone, double-checking that the call really ended. Then I toss it onto the couch, watching as it bounces off the cushion and hits the floor.
Fucking asshole.
The cat yowls, and I storm across the room toward her. Dropping to my knees, I thrust my hand into the crate.
“Get out of there.”
She swats at me, but doesn’t extend her nails to actually scratch me.
I scoot back onto all fours and peek into the carrier. Bright blue eyes stare right back at me, framed by fluffy gray fur. She tilts her head just as I do. From what I can see, she’s really pretty, and definitely looks like a housecat.
“Come on… Clover? I’ll get you some water.”
The feline meows.
Leaning back, I grab the backside of the crate and lift it. They say cats always land on their paws, right? I shake it gently, and on the second try, she falls out—very gracefully, I might add. I’m not here to hurt her.
I’m surprised she doesn’t run, but instead sits right in front of me. I set the enclosure aside and sink back onto my calves.
“Hi, Clover.” She doesn’t meow, but I can hear soft purring. “You’ll have to forgive me. I’ve never taken care of a cat before.”
I slowly raise my hand and drag it down her head. Her ears flatten, but she doesn’t hiss. She’s probably just wary of me. I get it; I’d be cautious of someone I didn’t know, too.
“My name’s Ayden…” Is it weird to introduce yourself to a cat? Probably.
The sudden opening of the front door nearly makes me fall back—not just because of who it might be, but also because I’m only a couple of feet away.
It slams against the wall, and bounces back slightly.
I’m glad I didn’t have to dodge it. I definitely wouldn’t have been able to.
Maybe I could’ve before, but my fight-or-flight reflex is fried after the phone call with Michael.
My eyes widen as they trace up, and up, and up, to a set of amber eyes staring down at me. A loud thump crashes beside him, but I don’t look; I’m too dumbstruck to tear my gaze away… because it’s Keoni that is now standing a mere foot from me.
He narrows his eyes, before looking to my right where the cat is, before turning back toward me.
I can’t believe how difficult it is for me to swallow right now.
“What are you doing here?”
“What are you doing here?!”
We speak at the same time, though his words come out far more aggressively.
As my gaze travels slightly south, I realize the position that I’m in. I’m only a foot or so from him, on all fours, eyes-to-crotch level.
Without lifting my chin, I meet his impenetrable stare. He tilts his head, shock riddling his extremely handsome face.
“Shit,” I spill out, and rapidly begin moving up to my feet. Instinctively, I step back and roll my shoulders.
Holy shit. I haven’t seen him in what feels like forever, and at the graveyard I wasn’t able to get a good look.
Alysa sent some photos, but they were half-faced or too blurry—she was drunk most of the time, and it felt like she was trying to make it as inconspicuous as possible.
In the few she did get, it was as though he was doing his best to not be in them.
Keo has always been well-proportioned—broad shoulders, muscles I can see under the tight T-shirt he’s wearing. A tattoo starts at his left shoulder, snakes under the fabric, and trails down his arm. The black ink on his warm brown skin looks like it was always meant to be there.
“Keoni. You’re here… Why?”
I watch the veins in his arms twitch, and when our eyes meet, he shakes his head, like he’s clearing something from his mind. “Is this your suitcase?” I look down, and sure enough, it’s right beside him. “Ayden… What are you doing here?”
Hadn’t I just asked him a question? I’m also entitled to an answer.
“Staying here?”
Anger and indignation ripple across his features. “No, you aren’t.”
A singular, unamused laugh escapes me. “Yes, I am.” Honestly, I’m stunned by how visceral his reaction is to just seeing me. “We haven’t seen each other in eight years and this is how you say hi?”
“You are the reason I haven’t seen you.” His chest expands as he shakes his head and brushes past me. “This can’t be fucking happening!”
Shame curls tight in my chest as I watch his back tense with every step toward the kitchen. He grabs a glass, and fills it with water like I’m not standing here. Like I don’t deserve his time of day.
Clover’s meow pulls me from staring too long; she’s weaving between my legs, her soft coat brushing against me before those bright blue eyes look up, expectant. I exhale slowly, closing my eyes against the weight of it all.
I just told Michael I wasn’t coming back. Alysa has the keys to the Boulder apartment. While I know she’d ship them without question, that means I wouldn’t get them for a week or two.
I could get a hotel…
But again, this place feels… right.
Even more so now.
And I own half of it, so fuck that, I’m not leaving.
“Keo, I—” I stop mid-sentence, because when I look for him, he’s gone.
Shit. Does he really hate me that much for what happened?