After I was a bigger bitch than the mayor of Bitchville to him just a few moments ago, I wouldn’t have blamed him for just leaving me here to yell at the door while he did the logical thing and just walked home. Hell, even I would’ve left me here to be a bitch on my own after what I said to him.
Yet he stayed. He waited with me while I threw a tantrum and he’s still figuring out ways to help me out. He’s pulling his connections and favors to help me. And I totally don’t deserve any of it.
“Why?” I ask before even realizing that I did.
He furrows his brows. “I don’t want anyone touching my stuff and I’m sure you don’t eith—”
“No, not that.” I cut him off. “Why are you still here? Why didn’t you just leave?”
“I wasn’t going to desert you in the middle of a parking lot at night,” he says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.
“Even after what I said to you?”
“Despite what you may think, I actually do care about you.”
My body’s confused. Like it doesn’t know whether to melt at his confession or erupt into butterflies or float away to cloud nine. My brain settles on the most basic and unrefined thing as a reply.
“Oh.”
“Come on. The sooner we start walking, the sooner we can get this mess cleaned up.”
He walks down the front steps and through the parking lot, not bothering to check if I’m following. I stare at his back, frozen to the spot, my brain still trying to connect the dots.
He stops walking and turns to face me, looking irritated. “Are you coming or are you just going to stand there all night?”
Snapping out of my reverie and jogging to catch up, I throw one last glare over my shoulder at the school doors. Falling into step with him, the only sound comes from our faint footsteps echoing through the quiet streets.
“Aiden?” I ask quietly, keeping my eyes trained in front of me as we walk.
“Yeah?”
“I’m sorry about what I said. I didn’t mean it,” I admit, still not looking at him.
He gently takes my hand, his fingers intertwining with mine. Electrical sparks run up and down my arm from where we touch, my hand secured in his strong and comforting grasp.
His reply is instantaneous. “I know.”
The walk to Aiden’s house from the school didn’t take long. The farther away we got from the school, the more I realized that we were walking into a sketchier part of town. It wasn’t so rough that you’d want to pull your children inside and shut the curtains at the first sign of darkness, but it wasn’t as comfortable as my cozy suburban neighborhood.
Despite walking through an intimidating neighborhood late at night knowing that a madman is hell-bent on killing me and two psychotic teenagers have made it their mission to make my life hell, I’m strangely relaxed. My comfort has everything to do with the powerful and fearless Greek god holding my hand, his presence silently promising my security.
Still, the annoying, nagging voice inside my head tells me that I shouldn’t be relying on Aiden to feel safe and comfortable. He’s not always going to be around when there’s trouble, and I definitely don’t want him around if Tony crashes back into the scene.
History has proven once I get too settled something goes horribly wrong, and I’m forced to flee, starting over from a blank page and leaving behind pieces of my heart in each town I’ve moved to. This time, I know that when I’m inevitably forced to go, I’m going to be leaving behind a much bigger piece of my heart, and that scares me almost as much as Tony does. But a much louder voice in my head snaps at that voice to shut the hell up and hoard the warm, comforting feeling I get when I’m around Aiden.
He leads me toward a gray, two-story house with an attached garage. It’s on the average-to-small side, but it’s a good size considering it’s just Aiden and his brothers. The door is right in the middle of the façade, with large paneled windows between it and the end of the house on both sides. Despite being in a rougher neighborhood, the house is remarkably welcoming.
Aiden inconspicuously looks around as we walk up to the front, and he releases my hand, leaving it cold and deprived of his comfort. He bends down and removes a brick from the pathway, taking out the key hidden beneath before putting it back.
We walk the few steps to the sturdy oak door. Aiden unlocks it and swings it open, letting me walk in first. He follows behind me, closes the door, and turns on the lights.
I’m not sure what I expected to see, but shocked is a bit of an understatement for how I feel.
Aiden is a high school senior with sole custody of two nine-year-old boys. I guess I kind of expected his house to be a bit of a mess, or chaotic, or dirty, or something other than what I’m seeing right now. It’s clean and organized. The dark hardwood floors and modern furniture make the house look inviting and comfy. I can’t help but feel safe and welcome, and ignore the fact that this might have less to do with the house and more to do with the gorgeous, resourceful guy fidgeting beside me. The usually calm and impassive Aiden seems a little uneasy with having me here, and I remember that he always wanted to tutor me somewhere other than here, even when I asked.
“Your house is really nice,” I say.
“You shouldn’t be surprised, everything about me is nice. I’m practically the poster child of niceness,” he states seriously, with a straight face.