Hard to Handle

He’s out,” Aiden said, hoisting his thumb over his shoulder. Lyon had made him read Green Eggs and Ham three times, but finally, he’d fallen asleep.

“Thanks, man,” Evan said. “He’s had a big day.”

Evan had come into town for the weekend. And for some reason had been in a really good mood. Maybe he wasn’t interested in maintaining their ongoing feud. Whatever epiphany he’d come to since the party, when they’d seen each other last, must’ve been a good one.

“Scotch, Aid?” his father asked, serving himself and Evan.

Aiden had done enough drinking over the last week to justify a lengthy stay at Betty Ford. He’d better lay off before he had a bigger problem than his swelling liver. “No, thanks. I was thinking of going for a run.”

Evan cast a dubious glance out of the window. “Tonight? You’re crazy.”

“It’s pouring, son,” Mike said.

It was. Rain beat the roof, the windows, but there wasn’t any lightning, and the temperature wasn’t too cold. Since his chat with Shane yesterday, Aiden had some extra steam to burn off. A run in the cool rain might be just the thing he needed.

Shane’s proclamation that Crickitt had given him one more chance had burrowed beneath Aiden’s skin. And last night he’d lain awake in bed and actually, foolishly, considered going back to Sadie and seeing if she’d take him back.

Maybe he didn’t need a stay at Betty Ford; maybe he needed a padded cell with a locking door.

He woke this morning recalling everything she hadn’t said while he’d stood outside her door spilling his guts. Her continued silence spoke volumes. She hadn’t called him this week. He’d given her what she wanted, then she’d drawn the line in the sand. Not that making love to Sadie was a hardship for him, but they’d made love on her terms. If he had his way, he’d be engaged by now.

“I’m not made of sugar,” Aiden said, watching the rain hit the window behind his brother and father’s head. He spun his ball cap so the bill covered his eyes. “Be back soon.” He left his father and brother in the den and snagged his black waterproof running jacket on the way outside. Under the small front porch, he watched it pour, reconsidering that glass of scotch.

A memory of Sadie’s ubercool shrug the night he was going to propose—the casual way she suggested they have sex a few times a week—pissed him off enough to propel him into the storm. He splashed through a puddle, then another, keeping his head down as he found his pace.

This last week had been one of the hardest Aiden had ever endured. And that was saying a lot, since the last woman he’d committed to spend a lifetime with had left him for someone else. But as bad as it was to learn Harmony had chosen his best friend and business partner over Aiden, at least now Aiden could look back and see things had turned out for the best. When he looked back, or maybe forward, at the life he and Sadie could have had, he didn’t see it as a dodged bullet. He felt as if he’d taken two to the chest.

He loved her. Still loved her, dammit. And when pretending he was okay didn’t lessen the pain of losing her, or drinking to forget her hadn’t made her the least bit fuzzy in his memory, he knew he was in trouble. In trouble and there was absolutely nothing he could do about it. He didn’t know why he’d thought he could get over her this time. It wasn’t like he’d been able to get over her the last time. The pain of losing her was dull, but still there. Like the pain in his back now, reminding him of the night he’d wrecked his bike.

He wondered if loving Sadie would ache in the same way. If it’d be a persistent reminder that never fully healed. If she’d remain a lingering, distant memory regardless of who came into his life next. A small, dark part of his heart knew she would be there forever. And that made him want to go to her and give her—and himself—one final chance to be who they were meant to be.

But he wasn’t going to beg.

It wasn’t a matter of pride. It was a matter of needing to get used to not having her around. Because casual wasn’t going to cut it for him. Not where she was concerned. He loved her with every fiber of his being. It was the only way he knew how to love her. He couldn’t do half measures. Not where Sadie was concerned.

And, yeah, maybe he wasn’t going to her partially out of self-preservation. He was afraid if she did talk to him, she’d suggest they “see where it goes.” But Aiden had figured out a long time ago that with Sadie, he knew exactly where he wanted it to go. And while he wasn’t sure he could ever feel exactly this way for another woman, he was sure a truncated relationship with Sadie wasn’t a good solution to his problem.

And so here he was, alone. Running in the effing rain.

But he wasn’t alone, he reminded himself. He had plenty to be grateful for. His brothers, his nephew, his sister and her dorky husband. And yeah, he missed his mom. Losing her made him appreciate his family, and the time they had together, that much more.

The ache in his heart would subside. He may be crying into his beer (or Jim Beam or vodka tonic) for the remainder of his days, but he couldn’t let this crush him. He was being melodramatic yesterday when he’d told Shane he wished he could run away from home. That was kid stuff, the running away. Axle’s was Aiden’s legacy. Aiden was equipped to run those stores better than anyone, and he’d be damned if he’d turn away from it now that everything was lining up the way he wanted it.

Almost everything, anyway.

Aiden slowed to a walk, pressing a hand into his side. Pain radiated down his back. Damn, that hurt. He’d been running too much lately, hoping the pounding of his feet on the pavement would drown out his thoughts. At least the pain quelled them.

Then again, maybe not, he thought as he turned the corner and saw Sadie’s car parked in front of his father’s house. He almost reached up and rubbed his eyes to be sure she was really there. But that was her, all right, climbing out and shielding her eyes from the relentless rain.

Her hair soaked through and went flat on her head in the seconds it took for him to walk to her. She waited, her white dress shirt plastered to her skin and giving him a peek at the lacy bra underneath.

His heart clenched. She was exquisite. Beautiful. He missed her so much.

She doesn’t love you.

Yeah. There was that.

Her lids fluttered as stray raindrops splattered against her face. Either that or she was crying. He steeled himself for the possibility. Even if she wept, he couldn’t let it break his resolve. He’d come this far—had nearly a week under his belt. It would get easier. Hopefully.

“What are you doing here?” he called over the driving rain.

“I came to see you,” she called back. She gestured to the car. “Take a drive with me?” An uncomfortable smile. “My treat.”

Aiden had imagined Sadie coming to him. And in every imagining, he had said yes no matter what she’d asked. He’d pulled her into his arms and kissed her senseless and promised to love her forever. But now that she stood in front of him, the memory of her pushing him away was too fresh. Too painful.

“No, thank you,” he told her. He hazarded a glance at the wide front window of his father’s house. The living room light was out, Dad and Evan likely still in the den. Unable to let Sadie stand in the downpour any longer, Aiden tipped his head toward the awning and led her to the porch.

She scaled the steps in a pair of tall red heels and it took everything in him to keep from grabbing her hand and helping her up. If he touched her, it’d be over. He’d probably crush her against him and kiss her and forget every assurance he’d just given himself.

Sadie smoothed her hair, which was already starting to curl on the ends. He recalled the morning— the last morning—they’d shared a shower, how she’d towel dried her hair, leaving the strands in damp waves, her face scrubbed free of makeup. Had she known she didn’t love him then? He gave the memory a violent push.

Don’t go there.

“What’s up?” he asked, hoping to get to the reason why she came, and get her out of here as soon as possible. Preferably before Dad and Evan noticed. He cast another look at the house. Still dark.

“I saw Crickitt today,” she said as she rubbed her hands together in a nervous gesture. “She and Shane had some news—”

“Sadie.” Aiden’s patience was thin ice. Maybe thinner. “You didn’t come here to talk about my cousin.”