Chapter 17
17
Aiden
“Lucy! Bennett! Why don’t you see who’s at the door?”
The little blonde races toward my front entryway with her brother hot on her heels. I wave at Jack through the half-circle window he’s peeking through, sure he can hear the little footsteps headed his way.
She uses both hands to twist the knob and stick her head out. “Daddy!”
“Hey, Luce.” Each arm snags a child and he scoops them up for a quick hug. “Did you have fun with Uncle Aiden?”
Whitney slowly walks in behind Jack, gripping her stomach.
“Mommy! Can we get a cat, Mommy?” Bennett asks, bypassing Jack. The little ones spent the afternoon waving lasers and stringy toys for Chevy. I brought him back home with me temporarily to give him a dose of his normal surroundings, and he made a lasting impression on Bennett.
“You’re supposed to wait in the car,” Jack gently reprimands his wife, taking her hand and leading her to my sofa. She groans as she sits down.
“Momma, can we get a cat?” Bennett tries again.
“Can I get you anything?” I ask.
“A water would be great. They refused me anything in case I was actually in labor. Thanks again for watching them.”
“I’ll get it.” Jack hustles to my kitchen.
I kneel down and catch Bennett before he can crawl on top of Whitney. “Be gentle with your mom, kiddo. The baby’s making her tired.”
“Is my brother ready to come out?” He twists his hands in my shirt.
“Not yet. But soon,” she replies to the eager kiddo.
“You don’t know if it’s a brother, Bennett. It could be a sister,” Lucy argues.
Jack returns and hands his wife a bottle of water. “We’re all going to find out together.”
“Hey, any word on how Spencer’s doing? I haven’t bumped into Sutton or Silas since we were at Sunset.”
“I saw Sutton at the store yesterday. He said Spencer received some burns from a work accident and they flew him to Regions Burn Center.”
“Shit, that bad?”
Jack’s mouth forms a grim line. “It’s not good, but he’s alive. His buddy wasn’t so lucky. Sounds like the bills are going to be a problem too so the family is working on putting an auction together.”
“Let me know what I can do to help.”
My phone dings with a text. I keep a hand on Bennett while I retrieve it so he doesn’t go jumping on the couch and jostling his mother. The boy is a bruiser. I think he fell no less than five times in the four hours since his parents dropped him off.
Isla:
Where are you?
Me:
At my house still. Jack and Whitney are here getting the kids
Isla:
She’s okay?
Me:
Seems that way. Either that or she broke out on her own
Isla:
Don’t go anywhere. I’m coming to you
Me:
Is everything okay?
Isla:
No. I’m fine, but I’ll explain when I get there
Me:
I’ll be waiting, starshine
Isla:
Thanks, lover
“Isla’s on her way. Something’s up, but she didn’t want to tell me over text.”
His gray eyes study mine. “Need me to stick around?”
I’ve never felt that I deserve this family. Not once since they took me in when I was twelve. “Nah. I’ll let you know if there’s anything I need, but maybe it’s best if the kids aren’t around to hear what she has to say.”
“Good idea.” He claps me on the shoulder. The brotherly touch eases the nerves some. Anything left lingering I shove down with everything else. “Kids, grab your stuff. Uncle Aiden has to see his girlfriend now.” He smirks.
Whitney struggles to push herself out of the couch. “Is she coming over?” I grab her hand. Her smile is grateful. “Thanks. Can’t wait until I’m no longer the size of an orca.”
“You’re beautiful.” Jack gives her a pointed look and a secret conversation passes between them. He takes over helping his wife, and I lead the kids out to Jack’s SUV.
The sound of tires on the pavement has me looking up from Bennett’s seat buckle. Isla’s car jerks to a stop at the curb. I straighten, and Jack and I exchange a glance over the top of the vehicle.
“Here, Luce. Help him.” I maneuver the buckle into little hands and jog down the driveway to meet her.
Isla slams into my chest so hard I go back a step, but I’m solid as she faceplants. Trembling limbs wrap around my torso, clutching my shoulders from the back. “I’m okay,” she mumbles into my shirt. “I’m okay, I’m okay, I’m okay.”
“Talk to me, starshine,” I order.
“The serial killer,” she gasps. The fight to keep herself together cracks my heart into two. “He killed someone else.”
“Okay. It’s okay. I’ve got you.” I stroke the back of her head, sifting my fingers through the soft brown strands.
“I knew her.”
My blood runs cold.
“LaLa was a friend, Aiden. I just talked to her a few weeks ago.” Her voice cracks. “We met at my old club, Eve’s. She wasn’t working there anymore, she moved around the same time I did to go to school.”
“Let’s get you inside. Hang on. I’ve got you.”
The danger isn’t anywhere near us but that doesn’t stop me from feeling exposed in the middle of my driveway.
Jack closes his SUV and approaches as we reach my porch. “You good?”
Isla keeps her face buried in my shoulder, no doubt hanging onto her emotions the best as she can.
“Yeah. I’ll text you with an update later.”
“Thanks again for the help.”
“Anytime.”
With that, he departs and I usher Isla inside.
“Sit.” I press her into the couch, the same spot Whitney vacated not even ten minutes prior. As I turn to get her some water, she wraps her fist around my shirt. The solid tug stops me in my tracks.
“Don’t go.”
“I won’t.” There’s not a hesitation to be found as I sit beside her and draw her close. Her body shakes in my hold but surprisingly, she doesn’t cry.
“I can’t believe she’s gone. She just started a nursing program. She was going to school to be able to take better care of her sick parents.”
“I’m so sorry, Isla.”
“I should’ve talked to her more. I should have gone to see her. She isn’t— wasn’t even that far away from here.”
My heart stops beating. “How far away?”
Isla picks up her head. “She was working at a gentlemen’s club in Yellow Creek.” That’s forty, maybe forty-five miles from here.” She sits up straighter. “He’s getting closer.”
I tighten my hold. “There’s still a lot of open space between there and here.”
“But not a lot of clubs. Depending on which way he travels, XO’s could be his next spot.” The way she caresses her growing belly twists a knife in my chest. “I need to think about this. I think maybe it’s time I put in my notice.”
“You’re going to give up dancing?”
Her eyes are heavy with guilt. “I don’t want to. I love dancing. It’s part of who I am as a person. But it’s not safe right now and I have more than just me to think about.”
“I don’t think you have to give up dancing. You’re just putting it on hold for a little while.”
Her brow creases. “What do you mean?”
“We can set up a pole at your house. Then you can do all the dancing you want.”
“I’m not going to put a pole in my living room, Powell.”
I scowl at her use of my last name. “Why the fuck not? Everyone who cares about you already knows you’re a dancer.”
“Right, and if I leave the curtains open, I can give the street a free show.”
I catch her chin between my thumb and index finger, holding her gaze steady on mine. “The only one who’s going to get a private show is me, starshine. Whether it’s free or not is up to you.”
“Hm.” She leans over and kisses the tip of my nose, shedding off the heavy atmosphere. I can’t help but smile at the unexpected move. “I think it’s cute when you’re possessive.”
I level her with a glare.
“Are you going to give me a tour?” She glances curiously around my living room.
“You want a tour?”
“I’ve never been here before, and as your fake girlfriend, I think I should at the very least, see your bedroom.”
The suggestive comment sends blood rushing to my cock. I swallow twice to unstick my tongue from the roof of my mouth. “Sure, I can give you the short tour. For starters, this is my office.”
Isla hops off my lap and does a slow spin. I take in the room with her. The sleek, dark hardwood floors and the sterile white walls. The framed picture hanging above my desk of a landscape painted by Cortney during her art phase a few years back. The small black alarm panel next to the front door that I had installed after the incident last spring. My leather couch and recliner are much less comfortable to sleep on than Isla’s furniture, but not by much. My shoulder still aches a little from all those nights I abused it on her couch.
The pain was worth every single night she had peace. I’d still be there if she hadn’t invited me to share her bed.
“I like it,” she announces, inspecting my desk and cradling her belly. “It’s clean and crisp, but has a little more flavor than your average bachelor pad.”
If by flavor she means an area rug and a throw blanket, then sure. I have flavor in my living room.
“Where to next?”
“The kitchen is through there.” I point at the obvious doorway straight ahead and follow her lead.
It’s a standard kitchen, decorated in white cabinetry and stainless steel appliances, including a dishwasher that I’ve only run once in the entire time I’ve lived here.
The other side of the kitchen opens to a hall with three bedrooms and a bathroom.
“Which one is yours?”
“The one on the end.”
She looks over her shoulder at me as she skips down the hall, her flowy, floral skirt swishing around her ankles. She peeks into the open doors of the mostly empty bedrooms before laying her hand on the brass knob to mine.
“If you have three bedrooms, why is your office in the living room?”
“Ah.” Stalling, I run my hand over my hair. “I had it in this empty room for a week but the space felt too isolating.” It didn’t matter if the door was shut or open, I already felt like a shut-in. The confining space grew my world until it felt like nothing more than a pinprick.
She nods as if she understands.
“Can I go in?”
I run my tongue over my lower lip. “Of course you can,” I rasp. I’ve never had a woman in my bedroom and the one about to cross the threshold is the only one I want to step foot in there. Ever, if I have my way.
A little squeal leaves her mouth. The latch is loud as she twists the knob and pushes open the door.
“Ooh,” she praises. “Now this looks comfortable.”
I step up to the doorway and lean my shoulder on the jamb. My heart hammers hard at the sight of her in my personal space.
The room is large compared to the rest of the house. It takes up the entire back third. Two large windows stream sunlight in through white, gauzy curtains on a black curtain rod. The walls are a dark gothic green, and the same hardwood running throughout the rest of the house covers the floor.
She runs her hand along my light gray duvet. “I love it in here.” Her skirt billows as she turns. “Why aren’t we staying here?”
My careful mask slips. “What?”
“Your house is way bigger. You should have said something instead of sleeping all those nights on my couch.”
“You want to stay here?”
Visions of Isla twisted in my bedsheets manifest in my head.
“Why not?”
“I didn’t know if you’d agree to date me. I wasn’t about to push it by forcing you to move in with me too.”
The casual way she shrugs trips my heart. “You moved in with me, so it isn’t much different.”
I forgot in the chaos of the last few weeks how down-to-earth she is. Isla’s always been a free spirit. Going with the flow is second nature to her. She makes decisions as they come to her and not a moment sooner. My mistake was not asking in the first place.
“Do you want to stay here, starshine?”
My pulse thunders as I wait for her answer.