Chapter 22
Chapter Twenty-Two
JOANNA
Iwake up in a strange but extremely comfortable bed.
My head feels like a walrus sat on it. I sit up slowly, taking in my surroundings the best I can in the dim light.
Curtains are drawn to my left, small slivers of sun escaping around the edges.
I stretch out my arms and legs across the silky sheets of the massive bed, not touching the other side.
I know where I am just by the smell, Aidan’s smell.
I grab one of the large pillows and hug it to my chest, breathing in his bergamot and citrus scent that’s buried in the material.
Of all the places to end up after being black-out drunk, this is probably the best. The only problem is I have no memory of how I got here.
The last thing that comes to mind is Aidan offering to take me home.
I pull the pillow away from my face, and I’m struck by the stale smell of alcohol and cigarettes on my clothes. My hair is matted and sweaty, and I feel disgusting. I’m surprised Aidan let me sleep in his bed like this. He’ll probably burn the sheets and buy another expensive ass set tomorrow.
I inch my way out of the oversized bed until my feet meet the plush, thick carpet.
With half-lidded eyes, I walk to the window and peek behind the curtain.
The blinding light is too much at first, but after a second of adjusting, I can see it’s early morning.
I notice there’s a fresh set of clothes perfectly folded for me at the foot of the bed.
It’s another pair of Aidan’s sweatpants, but this time he added a large sweater.
Somehow familiar with the ensuite bathroom, I pad barefoot across the tile and press the button for the heated floors, my toes curling at the sudden warmth.
The showerhead pours hot rain-like water over my sticky and sluggish body, gradually coaxing my aching muscles back to life.
Drinking at my age is not as fun as I thought it would be.
This hangover feels like I’ve got the flu, though the shower at least helps me feel a little more alive.
As I finish pulling up the large fluffy socks Aidan left, there’s a soft knock on the bedroom door. I’m hesitant to open it and face who’s behind it after the way I acted last night, but I can’t hide in Aidan’s bedroom forever.
I answer in a voice as soft as the knock. “Come in.”
The door opens without a sound. Aidan is standing there in a long sleeve athletic shirt and joggers similar to the ones I’m wearing.
The thin material clings to his lithe, muscular body.
There’s a significant slump in his shoulders.
His typical confident yet detached demeanor has been shaken, and I can’t help but blame myself.
The worry for me is written all over his face, in the frown lines around his mouth, and the bags under his eyes.
I’ve caused him unnecessary stress, and now I’ve overstayed my welcome.
I grab my clothes from last night and shove them into my bag. “Thanks for letting me crash. I didn’t mean for you to bring me here. I could’ve just gone home.” I’m speaking hurriedly, trying my best not to look him in the eye.
He moves further into the bedroom but leaves the door open. An easy escape, for him or for me, I can’t be sure.
“I wanted to take you,” he says quietly, “but you changed your mind.”
I’m confused. “I asked to come here?”
Aidan nods, pressing his lips into a thin line.
Even in my inebriated state, I must have known I wouldn’t want to wake up in an empty house without my mom. But—
Oh my god, Thumper!
I left her alone all night. She probably thought I was never coming home, and suddenly I feel like I’m going to puke. Every drink I downed last night comes back up my esophagus, burning my throat.
I rush to the bathroom, in too much of a hurry to close the door, and just barely make it to the toilet before spewing my guts out. My nausea makes the room spin, and I press my palms against the side of the cool porcelain toilet to keep myself centered.
Sweat trails town my neck, so I reach around to grab my hair and pull it out of the way, but my hand meets another.
Aidan is right behind me, doing the job for me.
He grabs my long hair into a ponytail and holds it back as I continue to puke up bile.
I dry heave one more time, and finally, I think I’ve surpassed the worst of it.
I lean my head against the sink, keeping my eyes closed until my equilibrium has fully balanced.
Aidan sits beside me on the floor and rubs small circles on my back.
I hadn’t noticed it at first. His hand on me feels natural, though it’s a gesture I’m not used to.
But now, that's all I can think about. His cold fingers have turned to fire, and I yank away. It’s too intimate, too vulnerable.
“Are you alright?” he asks quietly.
I shake my head and slowly get to my feet, using the edge of the sink to pull myself up. Once I’m stable, I go back into the bedroom to grab my stuff.
“I’m fine. I need to get back to my animals.”
“Shit. I forgot about the farm,” he admits. It’s something one could easily forget when it’s not the center of your life. For me, there’s no excuse. “Do you need help?”
He’s making it sound like it’s his fault for forgetting, and it makes my jaw clench. What the fuck does he have to worry about? His babysitting job is done. I’m the shit person who left her dog home alone all night.
“No, it’s fine,” I tell him sharply, desperately trying to find the rideshare app on my phone. “They’re fine. Thumper probably thinks I’m dead or something, but it’s fine.” Now I’m just scolding myself.
Aidan follows me like a shadow as I jog down the stairs and walk briskly to the front door. “Are you sure you’re alright?” he asks again, and it’s this question that sends me over the edge.
I spin on my heel to face him just as I’ve reached the front door. “Aidan, drop it.” He rears back as if I’ve burnt him, and it feels like I have. “I’m fine. I need to get home. I’ll see you later.”
I step outside, finally confirming my car. Silence hangs over us as Aidan hovers in the doorway at the bottom of the steps, no doubt debating whether to respect my wishes, but his conscience must get the better of him.
“Can I at least drive you?”
I hold up my phone. “No need. Got it covered.”
The car pulls up a minute later, and I sigh with relief.
I try not to look at Aidan as I get in the back seat, but my eyes betray me.
I catch the frown on his face before jerking my head away.
Picking up on the mood, the driver doesn’t make small talk as we pull out of the parking lot, and I’ve never been more grateful to have an intimidating resting bitch face.
Thumper greets me with a whine and double the enthusiasm I normally receive.
The minute I walk through the door, I drop to my knees and pull her into my arms, bursting into tears.
I feel awful, but she luckily seems to have forgiven me.
Watching her devour her food just makes me feel worse, especially as her little tail wags the entire time.
I’m pissed at myself for being so stupid. Ignoring my feelings is one thing but getting so black out drunk that I forget everything, including my own damn dog, is unacceptable.
I change into a set of worn-in overalls and tie my hair back with my favorite red bandana.
After shoving a slice of buttered toast in my mouth—hopefully to soak up the rest of my regrets from last night—I head out to check on the rest of the farm.
Most of the other animals are grazers, so food is always available when they’re in the field, but I double check just in case.
After confirming everyone is okay, I take a moment to breathe.
It seems the world kept turning even without me here to push it.
Thumper follows me around for the rest of the day.
I know she missed me when I didn’t come home last night.
I picture her sitting by the door for hours, and my heart aches.
When it’s time for lunch, I sit on the floor with her in the kitchen while she eats, and when she’s done, I spend twenty minutes rubbing her behind the ears and giving her suffocating hugs.
I’m still sitting on the floor with Thumper in my lap when I get a text.
It’s from Aidan.
11:41 A.M. How are you feeling?
On a physical level, I feel like shit. On an emotional level? I don’t know how to describe what I’m feeling, other than to say…I’m so fucking confused.
Things have suddenly gotten a lot more serious between me and Aidan, and I can’t reconcile my feelings with what I promised myself at the beginning of this relationship.
I want to tell him everything, open up and pour out every last bit of what I’ve been holding in. It’s becoming far too crowded in my mind, and it would be nice to offload some of those more complicated emotions, but I’m not ready. And I’m not sure he is either.
The struggle to share my emotions has always been a hard-fought battle with me, especially when it comes to admitting something is wrong. No matter how big the feeling, I’ve been bottling things up for so long, it’s impossible for me to let any of it out. If I do, I’ll just explode.
JOANNA 11:54 A.M. like the bar ate and shit me out
He texts back immediately.
AIDAN 11: 55 A.M. Thank you for the vivid imagery.
JOANNA 11: 56 A.M. you’re welcome
He doesn’t respond right away, so I go to shove my phone back in my pocket. As soon as I do, another text comes in.
AIDAN 12:00 P.M. Just so you know, there was nothing in our arrangement that stated we couldn’t talk to each other about our problems.
AIDAN 12:00 P.M. No strings. I’ll just listen.
Continuing to blur the lines with Aidan will only make things even more complicated, and I just can’t deal with that right now.
I should have known better when I went searching for something that would fill the loneliness. Now I’m stuck with something—someone—who means more than they should.
I have to slow things down.
I just hope I don’t hurt Aidan in the process.