Chapter 18
eighteen
“This one looks better,” I tell him, holding up a bottle of lube.
Aiden shakes his head, inspecting the label like it personally offended him. “You can get it, but it’s too thin for your ass. Yeah, the one I used was cheap, but I should’ve used more. Not this runny shit.”
He bends down and grabs a different bottle—the same kind he used on me two nights ago. My asshole still feels weird. “This one.”
I hold my palm out for him to pass it over, but he ignores it—and slips his fingers into mine instead.
I’m holding hands.
With the asshole.
He leads me down another stocked aisle in the brightly lit drugstore, so casually. As if what he did was nothing out of the ordinary. Like his hand isn’t smooth and warm and, worse, comforting.
It takes me back to the first movie night at camp. He’d sneaked away from the boys’ side and plopped down next to me. Legs covered with a blanket. Hand shaking as he slid it underneath to find mine.
Except his palm was so sweaty then. Nervous and cautious.
Now, it’s steady, confident, and controlled. He’s figured out exactly who he is—and who I am, too.
Jazzy music plays overhead as we pass the cold meds, when he spots something else he wants. Lifting our joined hands, his finger waves toward the bags of Epsom salt. We could be a regular couple on a wellness retreat.
“Lavender or eucalyptus?” he asks, totally unfazed. We’re shopping for sex supplies on a random Friday afternoon. Pretending I’m not his month-long plaything with a sore ass and a heart that flinches every time he touches it a little too softly.
“I think—”
“Ashlyn?”
My entire body locks up. I know that voice.
Eyes wide, heart pounding, I try to slip my hand from Aiden’s. But he spies her over my shoulder before I speak, gaze narrowed, and refuses to let go.
“Hey…Mom.” Shit. She’s got company. “And Adalyn.” My voice wobbles as I face them. It feels exactly like getting caught sneaking out in high school. Only back then, my family never knew I was seeing the boy standing behind me.
Mom clocks him instantly—the tall, broad-shouldered man, his hand in mine, body too close. Adalyn’s sunscreen bottle trembles in her grip, and her tight lips are already judging him as inappropriate.
My mother, short and voluptuous, steps forward, eyes sweeping him like a predator in pearls. “Hello. You must be…” She lets the sentence dangle, waiting for me to fill in the blanks, while Adalyn gapes like I’ve grown horns and a forked tongue.
“Aiden Cardell, Mrs. Donovan.” He finally releases his grip on my hand to shake my mom’s. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”
A lie delivered like it’s gospel. Smile flawless and charismatic. Voice dipped in charm thick enough to hypnotize an entire basket of snakes.
Mom flutters her lashes. Not in flirtation, but in strategy. She’s finishing school cunning, a Venus flytrap in mauve lipstick. And she uses her looks as a seduction trick when she wants a man to confess more than he meant to.
“Oh? I’m afraid I haven’t heard much about you, Aiden Cardell.
” Glancing at me, she arches one brunette eyebrow.
“Ashlyn must’ve forgotten to mention you.
” Then, to him, a smile as sweet as cyanide.
“I believe your family’s famous up here in Northview.
But not so much in Gnarled Pine Hollow…where my little girl is from. ”
I panic. I have to break the tension. “You here for honeymoon supplies?” I blurt to Adalyn, throwing her a lifeline and myself a parachute. I wonder what would happen if I sprinted out of here and left the three of them behind.
Adalyn nods stiffly. “Yeah. Had a tasting with the caterer, then swung by here with Mom. And you’re with your…” she trails off, eyes flicking to Aiden. Her voice drops a note lower, like she’s handing the bomb to someone else.
Frozen in place, my stomach churns, threatening to regurgitate my dinner. Please, for the love of the gods, do not say boyfriend…
“Ashlyn’s good friend. I’m Ryan’s brother.”
Mom’s expression relaxes for a moment with growing recognition. “Pippi’s Ryan? The man my niece is appointed to?”
“Yep. That’s the one.” His voice is smooth as lacquer over rot. “Ashlyn and I were catching up on old times.” A beat of air shifts as he holds it in his control. Dangerous. Intentional. “From…camp.”
My elbow slams into his ribs. Hard. He doesn’t flinch, but his grin falters slightly.
“Camp,” Mom echoes, her gaze latching onto mine like fishhooks under the skin.
It’s the look that used to come right before she’d terrify me into telling her the truth.
“Okay…” she drawls, tone frosted with civility.
“It’s good to meet you, Ryan’s brother.” Like she’s not committing his face to memory in case she needs to hire someone later.
A warning edges her words as she addresses me.
“See you at Thanksgiving dinner next week. With your boyfriend, Talon. Right, Ash?”
Aiden’s broad body stiffens behind me at the emphasis of the name.
Throat tight, I manage to say, “Yep. See you then!”
With great effort and a shuffled step, my family leaves with one last glance back at the figure waving them a friendly goodbye. As soon as they clear the area, I feel his next question burning at the tip of his tongue. It seeps into my soul like a fiery accusation.
Surging forward a step, I’m snagged back into him as he ensnares my upper arm.
“Your mom and one of your older sisters?”
“Yes,” I say, staring a hole into his Adam’s apple. Anywhere but into his crystal-blue eyes.
“That was a warm welcome.” The heat from his gaze is as searing as lasers on my skin. “What? Your family never knew about us?”
My jaw shifts as I snort a rigid breath. Instead of answering with words, I glare at him, hoping he’ll get it.
His throat tightens as he swallows, calculating what I’m trying to say. Brow furrowed, he softens his voice. “Do they always treat you like that?”
I lift my chin in defiance. Is he going to insult them? “Like what?”
“Like a kid who can’t be trusted not to burn the house down. Like a girl too reckless to know what’s good for her—even when she does. Too wild to let loose, so they box her up. Trim the edges. Make her smaller. Softer. Easier to control. Pliable enough to conform to what they want.”
Tears flood my eyes, blurring the world for a second. Damn him. He sees too much. But the worst part?
I may adore that.
“I don’t fit in,” I whisper.
“Well, neither do I.”
“You can fake it.”
He nods once, so sure of himself. “I can fake it for both of us.”
My chest rises, warmth spreading through my entire body… Both of us.
He glances at the stuff in his hands. “She saw this.” BOOTY-DOOP, the label shouts in bold capital letters.
“Yeah…” I sigh. “That’s probably going to make an interesting Thanksgiving dinner topic.” I snag the eucalyptus bag of salts and grab his hand.
Because I like it in mine.
But when we turn to head toward the checkout, we freeze. A display of pregnancy tests blocks the aisle. Bright. Shiny. Mocking. I nearly sob. Ribs cave in. Heart fractures into tiny pieces… The baby on the cover stares at me. Smiling like a ghost from my past. Who would I be if I’d never had him?
If I’d never lost him?
Aiden doesn’t move. Doesn’t speak. He’s a solid force. A vessel I could pour rage into if I didn’t already know that he’d carry it. He strokes his thumb over the back of my hand. Only once.
But it’s enough.
Enough to let me shove that grief back down.
Enough to keep walking.
I love myself.
That evening, in our new routine, I return from the guest suite, face washed and teeth brushed. Ready to slip under the covers, doomscroll, and try to forget about the horror show at the pharmacy.
Aiden usually reads something dense. Textbooks. History. Anything that makes me feel illiterate by comparison. But when I peek at him lying in bed already, sinewy bare chest and hair damp from his shower, he’s already slumped down with his eyes closed. On his back. Like he’s in a coffin.
I swallow and slide under the blanket carefully, like I might wake the dead. He doesn’t look asleep, but I don’t risk it. Switching off my lamp, I turn onto my side.
“Night,” I whisper.
He doesn’t respond.