Hard to Handle

He wouldn’t let her dance around this. Not again. Not after he’d been nothing but forward and honest. He deserved the same from her. He deserved at least that. Harmony had been the queen of the start and stall. She’d leave him, then come back, and he’d let her, only to watch her leave again. How long until Sadie’s next freak- out?

Love shouldn’t be this hard.

Love wasn’t hard for him. Love was simple. Love was yes, followed by a hundred more yeses. What was so damn complicated about that? He understood Sadie was afraid—hell, he was afraid. He knew how betrayal could kill a relationship. And he knew how death could separate you from a loved one for forever. So did Sadie, he realized, as he watched the water dripping from her chin. She’d lost her father. She’d lost her fiance. And yet she refused to open herself up to Aiden. Despite the firm hold Sadie had on his heart, he wouldn’t allow himself to go through the pain of losing her again. No matter how good it felt to take her back in the moment.

“You have one minute,” he said, ignoring the painful squeeze in his heart, “before I say good-bye and go inside.”

His heart squeezed even harder when Sadie pressed her lips together and acquiesced with a nod. “Okay, that’s fair.” She pulled in a breath, lifted her shoulders, and crossed her arms over her see-through shirt. He’d seen her this vulnerable before. The night he’d driven into her, his name rolling off her lips on a cry of ecstasy. The night he’d told her he loved her while he cradled her face in his hands.

Don’t go there, dammit.

Right. He was an impenetrable wall of granite.

“The day you called me from the airport in Oregon,” she started. “When you were with your mom.”

Shit. Impenetrable, he reminded himself. Effing impenetrable.

“You told me you were moving there. And we couldn’t be together anymore.”

Aiden shot a longing gaze at the front door.

“I loved you then.”

He snapped his head back to her. Blinked. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Because I still love you.”

It was all he’d wanted to hear for as long as he could remember. The unflappable optimistic part of him wanted to scoop her into his arms and bury his face in her wet hair, tell her he loved her, that he’d love her until he died. Maybe longer. And if this were a movie instead of his life, if the screen faded to black, and the cameras ceased rolling, he’d do just that. The End would appear in curly script, and they’d live happily ever after.

But this wasn’t a movie. And this wasn’t The End.

In the real world, there’d be a tomorrow and a day after tomorrow. And in a week, or a month, or a year, when Sadie got skittish—because, face it, that’s what she did—she’d bolt and he’d be left to pick up the pieces. How much more would it hurt then?

He didn’t want to know.

“Aiden.” She took a step toward him. He stepped back. Tears swam in her eyes and he barricaded his heart. He was doing the right thing. “I love you,” she said.

“Stop saying that, Sadie. Please.”

She retreated, just one step, and nodded. Actually nodded. Her easy acceptance was harder to take than if she’d crumbled at his feet and begged. Not that he wanted her to. God, just her being here had flipped his world. He didn’t know what he wanted. Minutes ago, he’d been so sure, so solid on his decisions…and now…

He had to get away from her. Away from her beautiful face and the emotional one-two punch of her confession and her pleading eyes. “I’m sorry, Sadie. I can’t,” he gritted out.

He opened the front door, waiting for Sadie to call his name. She didn’t. And when he looked out the front window, he was almost surprised to see her run for her car and close the door. The engine turned over. The headlights came on.

She was leaving.

And Aiden hoped to God he’d done the right thing.

Chapter 18

Aiden turned to walk away from the window—there was no way he could watch her drive off—and nearly plowed into his dad’s broad chest. Evan raised his eyebrows in a quick show of apprehension before skirting the both of them and launching up the stairs.

Just like when they were kids and Dad was about to yell.

Aiden stood eye to eye with his father now, but the sight of Dad’s scar puckering as he scowled still scared the bejeezus out of him. Not that Aiden was about to let it show.

“Not now, Dad.” He started to push past him but Mike blocked his path. Aiden pulled his hat off and shook some of the water off of it. “I’m serious.” He tried again but his father stepped in front of him.

“Sit down.” His face was angry. His scar twitched.

Aiden knew he was pushing his luck. He unzipped his jacket and dropped it by the door, then sat on the edge of a chair, wishing he could follow Evan up the stairs.

Mike lowered himself onto the sofa with a heavy sigh. “I’m guessing that was Sadie.”

Aiden took off his cap and twisted it in his hands. “Yeah.”

“What did she want?”

He shrugged, refused to meet Mike’s eyes. “I don’t know.”

“You’re a terrible liar.”

Aiden said nothing.

“Your plan is to let her go, then?”

Aiden’s anger sparked. “She let me go, Dad.” Shouldn’t everyone be able to see that? “I proposed to her, and she said no.”

“Yeah, well, you still brought her to your bed, didn’t you?”

Aiden ducked his head. “It’s what she wanted. It’s all she wanted.”

“Yeah. I’m sure you didn’t want that.” The sarcasm in Dad’s voice was thick.

Aiden lifted his chin, nostrils flaring. Mike had no right to corner him. He was the hurt party, here. And anyway, shouldn’t he be able to count on his own father taking his side? “I went through this with Harmony once already,” Aiden said, launching into the internal speech he’d given himself earlier. “The start and stall, the way she’d leave and come back—”

His father yanked the soapbox out from under him before he could finish.

“Dammit, Aiden! Stop being so stubborn.”

Aiden closed his mouth, and stared into his father’s simmering eyes. Eyes the same color as his.

Mike pulled a hand through his shaggy gray hair. “You don’t know how long you have with someone in this life, you know. You may get them for a few months, or you may get them for thirty-seven years.” He leaned over and rested his elbows on his knees, but didn’t take his eyes off his son. “You don’t know. That’s the point. Life isn’t laid out in neat little squares like some goddamn checkerboard,” he said, his voice gruff. “Your mom…” He paused, lifting his chin.

Aiden kept quiet and waited.

Mike cleared his throat. “Your mom,” he said in a titanium tone, “was supposed to grow old with me. That was the plan. That was always the plan. You may think I look old, but I don’t feel old. And she’s gone a lot sooner than I ever planned.

“When the accident happened”—he pointed at his face—“she told me she was scared to death she might lose me. Told me she hadn’t thought about losing me so soon, if ever.”

He was talking about the factory accident. It happened before Aiden was born. Mike’s coworker had gotten caught in one of the machines and when Mike pulled him loose, a piece of metal shot out and nearly took his eye.