Men of Nat Ex Boxset, page 25
part #2 of Men of NatEx Series
I feel his exhale of relief more than I hear it. Or even see it. I keep my gaze out the window as we fly down the streets of the town Aidan calls home. I try to see it through his eyes, as a place of residence rather than a place to visit. And I can visualize it. With the caring, nice people I’ve met so far and the gorgeous summer weather, I can see why this place ended up being home. Plus, his house is beautiful. Big and spacious.
He’s done well for himself. And I have to be grateful for that. When you love someone, you just want them to be happy. That’s what I want for Aidan. Though something tells me he’s not, and something else tells me that has something to do with me. I can’t dive further into that tonight though. Between being with strangers—even though they ended up feeling like family—all day and then being ditched at dinner, I’m exhausted. I wanted to be up for that conversation, but I don’t think we’re going to have it now, so all I want to do is put this food in the fridge and go to bed. It’s been a day. A few of them.
I yawn as we pull into the parking lot of the hotel. Instead of putting the Jeep in park out front, he finds an open spot and kills the engine. Then he gets out of the Jeep before I can think twice about what he’s doing. When my door opens, he gathers the bags of food in one hand and holds the free one as if to help me from the car. But, before I grab it, he smoothly puts it on the top of the open door and gestures with the other arm for me to get out.
At this point, I don’t even care if he’s trying to avoid touching me. I get it. But it only makes my desire to talk this out with him—and, if I’m honest, do a whole hell of a lot more with him—even stronger. The fact that he doesn’t want to touch me for fear of…what? Losing control? Failing to touch only my hand? Taking things too far?
God, I wish he would. For more than one reason, I just wish he would.
He won’t though. He could have a long time ago and didn’t. And he could have done a number of things after I texted him—but he didn’t. So maybe I’m not worth it. Maybe I deserve what Mason did to me. Maybe I—
“Which room are you guys in?” he asks as we walk through the front doors.
In my shame spiral, I didn’t even realize we were moving. But we’re inside the hotel now, nearly to the elevators. He pushes the up button as he waits for my response.
“You don’t have to—”
“I’m not dropping you off and leaving, Nic,” he says like it’s the stupidest thing he’s ever heard. “I’ll make sure you’re safe. Mason will hand me my ass if I don’t.”
Part of me wants to believe him, but another part of me isn’t sure that’s true. With everything going on between Mason and me, I’m so fucked up. And, with how exhausted I am, I can barely tell which way is up. But I do remember the hotel room number, luckily.
As we enter the elevator, I tell him, “The seventh floor.”
So he pushes the 7 button with his free hand and then drops the hand to his side. The part of me that’s always drawn to him notices how close our hands are. In fact, if I reached my pinkie out, I could probably touch him. And I almost test that theory. But then his fingers twitch, his hand forms a tight fist, and he puts one of the bags in the free one, bursting that idea completely.
The elevator doors open and we both exhale as though we’d been holding our breath for the whole ride up. Maybe we were. I certainly feel like I was. And he looks like he was too as he checks down the hallway to figure out which way to go.
“Left,” I say.
He takes up the whole hallway as we walk toward the room. When we get close to 727, I tell him which one it is. Then I pull the keycard from my purse and open the door. When I go to grab the bags of food, though, he doesn’t give them to me. Instead, he sneaks past me and goes inside.
I let the door close behind me and follow him in. I figure, as soon as he’s done doing whatever he’s doing, he’ll go and I can go to sleep. Once the food is on the table, he digs through the bag, and when he finds his food, he removes it. He puts the rest of the food in the small fridge. And then he takes swift, sure steps to the door.
So I toss my purse onto the table and go to my suitcase to find clothes to change into for the night. And, if I’m honest, I watch him as he walks away from me for the third time in my life.
However, when he gets to the door, his hand fumbles on the handle and he presses his forehead to the wood.
“What’s wrong now, A—” I swallow his name before it leaves my lips, per his command. “What’s wrong?”
A deep sigh releases from his lungs. Then he slowly turns around and faces me. After letting his head fall back against the door, he grumbles, “I just can’t leave you. Not again.”
Aidan
“Then don’t,” she says, sighing too. She looks as tired as I feel, but I don’t think it’s for the same reasons.
I’m exhausted from loving her. Not because she’s tough to love—just the opposite. It’s too easy to be in a love with a woman like Nic. Which makes it hard as hell to stay away. And fucking exhausting. Because I care way too much, and my mind’s stuck on that phone call she took earlier. It seemed like it was upsetting her, stressing her out. Whatever it was, I want to be here for her.
But the last thing I should do is try to come between them again. It didn’t work the first time, and I’ve now seen with my own two eyes how much my brother appreciates their long-term relationship. Though why he hasn’t married the woman is beyond me. That part doesn’t matter. What does is that it’d be a shit thing for me to do.
Yet I can’t seem to stop myself. Not when it comes to her.
Especially when she tells me not to.
“Nic,” I start, lifting my head away from the door.
“Hey.” She waves a finger at me, clutching a change of clothes against her chest. “If I can’t say your name, you shouldn’t say mine, either. It’s just as distracting, you know.”
I know? Do I? I don’t know what the hell I know.
“You’re the only one who calls me that,” she tells me as she smooths the top of her ponytail back. “Well, besides all the people here who know me through you. Though I set the record straight and asked them to call me Veronica.” Her hand falls to her side. “They seem like good people.”
I reply immediately. “They are. Really good people.” Even if they’re nosy and they give me a hard time sometimes. “It was just Matt for a while, but then he got with Cadence, and his brother and his sister moved here. And then his brother started dating Amelia…” Before I know it, I’m halfway across the room, close to her again.
“I’m glad you’ve found family here.” Her grin is genuine and warm—everything I’ve always loved about her.
“You’ve got family too, you know.” I set my food on the table as I tick names off on my fingers. “You’ve got my mom. Your brother. Mason.” It takes a lot of strength not to flinch when I mention my brother’s name.
Though her flinch is telling. Of what, I don’t know, but there’s definitely a story under the surface, and I keep telling her not to tell me. Part of me still doesn’t want to know, so I try to lighten the moment instead.
“And your knitting club, it seems.”
At that, she cracks a smile, visible relief relaxing her shoulders and the skin of her face. “I suppose so,” she laughs lightly.
“Hey.” I decide that it’s time to see what I can get out of her regarding dinner. “That phone call you took at the restaurant. Everything okay?”
That must have been the wrong thing to ask. After her throat works up and down from swallowing, she holds her clothes in the air. “I’m just going to change really quickly, okay? I’ll be back in a second.” Then she disappears inside the bathroom, the door softly clicking shut.
I take too many steps forward, my feet padding across the carpet to the room she just entered. A foot away from the door, I stare at it like I might be able to see through it. Not because I want to be a creepy asshole and watch her change, but because our time is limited and I don’t want her out of my sight. As soon as she gets on that plane to go back with my brother, I fully plan on never seeing her again, if only for self-preservation.
For now though… I don’t want to take my eyes off her.
So I watch the door, intent on standing here until she opens it again. I’ll do what I do best and wait. I’ve waited six years for these moments, so another few won’t kill me.
Until I hear soft crying on the other side and decide I’ve waited long enough for her.
As soon as I open the door, I find her crying, one hand covering her mouth. The other is holding her body up as she braces it against the sink. Her eyes are squeezed shut, and she doesn’t even react to the fact that I’ve barged in here like it’s something I’m allowed to do. With her sobs, her shoulders shake and her ponytail sways across her back.
Her nearly naked back.
Which leads to the nearly naked rest of her body.
She’s midchange, down to a nude bra and her light-pink underwear, and I have to force myself with all of my might not to focus on the fact that I’ve never, not once, seen her this way. And everything about her is even better than the dream. But I shove all the fantasies, wishes, and desires down and rush over to her.
I wrap her up in my arms and hold her tight, knowing full well I may never get a chance like this again. Not to hold her while she’s almost nude, but to comfort her when something’s upsetting her this much. Well, okay, both, but really the latter. Nothing in the world should ever make her cry. And that thought makes me hope I’m not the root cause of this. I never want to be the reason this woman cries.
Ever.
“Hey, what’s wrong?” I ask softly, spinning her so her head goes against my chest. My large palm covers the back of her head as I cradle her in my arms. “Why are you crying?”
She sobs and sniffles, trying to get ahold of herself. But, as much as I want to know what’s wrong, she doesn’t need to hold it together for me. She can let go. And then we’ll get to the bottom of this.
“It’s okay,” I tell her. I rub her back and smooth her hair down, hoping I’m bringing her at least a little comfort. “Whatever it is, it’ll be okay.”
Then I stay silent as I let her cry as much as she needs to.
We stand here for a while. Minutes, maybe twenty. I can’t tell. Time practically stands still for me as I hold the woman of my dreams in my arms. This isn’t how it was supposed to be because she should never be this sad. I’ve pictured our reunion too many times to count, and this was never a scenario. But I’m glad to be here for her, even if I was planning on never laying eyes on her again.
Finally, she sniffles and pulls herself out of my embrace. “Sorry,” she mutters, ducking her head. “I shouldn’t have…” Then she trails off. With her arms, she tries to shield her body as she picks her clothes up off the counter.
That’s ridiculous to me. “Hey.” I snatch her wrist in a gentle hold.
She faces me, wiping her eyes with her free hand.
After grabbing a tissue from the box by the door, I dab at the tears running down her cheeks and swipe at the mascara streaking across her face. “You don’t ever have to hide from me. There’s nothing you can’t show me. Nothing you can’t tell me.”
She hiccups before speaking. “But you said—”
“I know,” I tell her, soaking up the last of her dark makeup with the tissue. “I shouldn’t have said that, especially if it’s made you this upset. Whatever you wanted to tell me, I’m all ears. You shouldn’t have to hold it in anymore.” Then I toss the tissue in the trash. I think. I can’t look away from her, so I don’t know if it made it. Nor do I care.
Her eyes shine up at me like she wants to latch onto that statement and see how far she can get with it. But her body language tells another story: that this secret hurt won’t be given up so easily.
Her bottom lip trembles as she says, “I don’t want to hold it in anymore.” On the last word, her voice breaks.
So does my heart. “So don’t. Tell me what has you so upset.” With my thumb, I catch another loose tear under her eye.
Nic leans in against my palm, squeezing her eyes closed again. “I haven’t told anyone.” She sucks in a deep breath and releases it with purpose. “I tried to tell you, but you didn’t re”—she hiccups—“respond.”
I squint at her for a moment, but then I remember. “That text?”
She nods against my hand and then looks at me again.
Inhaling through my nose, I try to formulate a response, but I don’t have a good enough answer. Instead, I fight the way my body is turning to stone against her—and not in a good way. Just the thought of whatever that text said sends my blood into a cement-like state.
Because she came to me when she felt like she had no one and I ignored it.
“There’s no excuse, Nic. I just couldn’t—”
That’s all of the explanation I get out. Because she cuts me off with words I’ve said to her in the past, before I kissed her the only time we’ve ever been that intimate.
“I just have to know,” she whispers in a rush.
Then she stretches up onto her tiptoes.
And she plants her soft lips on mine in a kiss that steals the breath right out of my lungs.
6
Nic
This is what this feels like. To kiss Aidan the man, not Aidan the kid in his early twenties. To kiss the man who’s been on my mind since before he moved away. To kiss the lips I’m meant to kiss for the rest of my life.
It feels just like it did the first time, when I shouldn’t have pushed him away.
But everything with Aidan has always felt like too much. He’s overwhelming, which is scary as hell. He’s intense now, which freaks me out. He’s passionate, which is more than I can handle sometimes. Yet I’ve never allowed myself to try. I couldn’t even think about trying before.
Now?
I can.
He won’t let me though. “What the fuck?” he hisses as he pushes me off him—but only an arm’s length away. He still has his hands wrapped around my upper arms. It’s like he can’t have me kissing him but can’t quite let me go, either.
I won’t apologize. I shouldn’t have to. I’ve done nothing wrong here, but he doesn’t know that, and I don’t know how to tell him without him wanting to kill his brother. While I don’t think he actually would, he’d want to come close. And it’s my fault they’ve spent so much time apart already. I can’t be the reason they never speak to each other again.
“What was that?” He stares at me, the intensity in his gaze drilling a hole right into my soul. “You can’t just do that. That’s not fair.” Then he lets me go and wipes a frustrated hand down his face as he paces to the door.
“Not fair to who?” I mutter as I watch him.
He pauses, one hand propped on his hip. The other’s frozen in midair as if he were going to run his fingers through his short hair. But I shocked him with my words.
“Who isn’t that fair to?” I ask again. “Me? You? Why wouldn’t it be fair to you?”
Through his nose, he huffs a breath out. Then, through gritted teeth, he tells me, “I meant my brother.”
His words give me pause. I hadn’t considered Mason when I asked that question. Probably because he didn’t consider me when he did what he did. Instead, I was hoping for a different reaction from Aidan. And I didn’t get it. So we’re back to square one.
Where I have to tell him the truth and hurt him again.
“Mason’s out of the picture,” I admit as I start to shiver. The tile is cold against my feet, and the warmth in the room has vanished now that Aidan’s no longer holding me.
He raises his eyebrows in disbelief. “Excuse me? I just saw you two and—”
“Yeah,” I say, holding a hand up to cut him off so he can save his breath. “I know what you saw, but it’s all for show.”
With a scoff, he shakes his head and rubs his mouth with his hand. A disbelieving smirk lifts his lips. “No. I don’t think you know what I saw if that’s what you have to say about it. If that’s what you believe.”
I cross my arms over my chest—and don’t miss the way Aidan’s gaze goes straight to my cleavage before he looks away just as quickly. “I’m sure you really did see what you think you did,” I tell him, holding his stare now, “but it’s one-sided and he knows it. It’s been over for months.”
As Aidan’s brow furrows, he shakes his head again. “I don’t understand. Why?” he asks. “And why doesn’t Mason seem to know that?”
“Because I haven’t said it outright,” I admit, shifting my weight. “It’s…complicated.”
“Sounds like it.” He releases a deep breath and folds his arms over his chest too. “Sounds like something I don’t need to get in the middle of. I’ve learned my lesson since we last talked, you know.”
It’s my turn to take a deep inhale. I don’t know if he’s purposely pressing my buttons or just trying to protect himself, but I honestly can’t blame him for either tactic. All I know is I need to tell someone the truth already, and Aidan’s one of the worst choices.
“I’m not asking you to get in the middle of anything, but I have no one else to talk to about this. Your mother doesn’t need to know, and it doesn’t feel right to burden anyone else with my shit. All the women in the knitting club will just…” I search for the right word to describe the smothering I’d receive if I told any of them. “They’ll overreact, you know? I just can’t deal with telling them and then deal with their reaction to it.”
For several beats, he stares at me. He’s probably trying to puzzle the truth out himself from what I’ve said. Then his eyes grow wide and he rushes back to me, pulling my arms away from my body.
“Did that motherfucker hurt you?” he spits out, frantically searching over my skin. He spins me around to check my back, and I’m too shocked to respond for a few moments.
