This might boost him into trying, she thought, ignoring the tiny, squirming thought that she was being emotionally manipulative. Ultimately, Kit’s well-being was what mattered. She’d do a lot to justify that.
CHAPTER 9
YES, YES I AM
That Saturday, Aiden gritted his teeth and drove from the Falls all the way to Spokane Valley, about two and a half hours. He hated going to Spokane. He especially hated when he had to go see his little brother, Davy. Not that he hated Davy, particularly—he wasn’t very close with his brother, but there was no animosity, despite what people believed. Davy was, in a lot of ways, what his parents had always wanted: he was successful, he was married, he had kids. He’d stayed in Eastern Washington, rather than fucking off west side to hang out with “those hippies and losers.”
He sighed, pulling up in front of the white two-story where Davy and his family lived. Not the time to focus on bitterness. Although right now, he was bitter. Not because of the past, but because Davy refused to answer his repeated attempts at contact.
Now, this was happening.
Girding himself, he strode up to the front door, ringing the doorbell. It was nine in the morning . . . early, but he knew that the kids usually got up early. Or at least they used to.
The door flung open, and he saw a pretty little girl with large hazel eyes, light-brown hair in a ponytail, and a generous sprinkling of freckles across the bridge of her nose. She wore a pink T-shirt that said “Daddy’s Got a Shotgun” and a pair of jeans with flowers embroidered on them. He blinked momentarily.
“Hi,” he finally said. “Which twin are you?”
“Patricia,” she said. “Hi, Uncle Aiden.” And she gave him a hug, which he returned.
“Patricia, I told you not to open the . . . oh.”
He glanced up. Sheryl, Davy’s wife and his own ex-fiancée, was standing in the hallway, glaring at him.
He released Patricia. “Hi, Sheryl,” he said gruffly, then saw the shyer twin standing by her mother in a purple outfit very similar to her sister’s, with a T-shirt that said “Girls Rule, Boys Drool.” “Hi, Elizabeth Anne,” he added. Then he sent her a wave, and she shyly waved back with a grin.
“What are you doing here?” Sheryl said, her voice crisp as a new dollar bill.
He sighed. He’d hoped that five years would’ve thawed her out a little, but apparently no dice. “I’m here to see Davy, actually.”
She clenched her jaw. “He’s—”
“Hey, hon?” Aiden heard his brother’s voice just before he stepped into the kitchen, at the end of the hall. “Where’s Bug’s backpack? He needs . . .” Then, over her head, he caught sight of Aiden. “Whoa! Aiden. What are you doing here?”
Despite the fact that it was the exact same phrase that Sheryl had used, Davy’s voice was warmer, if puzzled. He strode forward, giving Aiden a one-shouldered hug. Aiden saw Sheryl take Patricia’s hand, tugging her away.
It hurt.
“Well, you weren’t returning my texts or calls,” Aiden said, trying to keep his voice even. “And we really need to talk.”
Davy rubbed his hand over the back of his neck. “Yeah, sorry. I’ve been hellishly busy . . .”
“Got time now?” Aiden pressed. Because if you didn’t corner Davy, he’d wriggle out. The guy was so allergic to commitment and confrontation, he acted like a straightforward conversation would send him into anaphylactic shock. “I drove almost three hours, dude. I wouldn’t have if it wasn’t important.”
Davy glanced over his shoulder at his wife, who arched an eyebrow imperiously. She took Elizabeth Anne’s hand.
“Honey, we talked about not calling him Bug anymore, he’s too old for that,” she said firmly. “I’m taking the girls out to breakfast. You still need to drop David back at his mother’s for his sleepover. And then we’re going to my parents’ this afternoon, remember? The Cougars game is going to be on, and they’ll want to eat early.”
“Okay, sure,” Davy said, turning to give her a kiss on the cheek. With another glare at Aiden, she hurried the girls out the door to their minivan.
“So, she’s still pissed,” Aiden said, under his breath.
“Yeah, well, what did you expect? It’s only been a decade,” Davy responded. Then he called up the stairs, “Bug! Buddy! C’mon, you know your mom hates it when I drop you off late.”
Aiden grinned as Davy’s twelve-year-old son, a.k.a. Bug, walked down. “I had to make sure I had all my Magic cards,” he explained. Then his face lit up. “Uncle Aiden!”
Aiden gave Bug a big, crushing hug, gratified by the kid’s laugh. Bug took more after his mother than his father—the deeper tan, the jet-black hair, the dark-brown eyes. His grin was like distilled sunshine.
“Still playing Magic, huh?” Aiden ruffled the top of his head, making a mental note to send the kid another pack.
“Yeah, but we keep it quiet,” Davy said, looking a little embarrassed.
“Sheryl doesn’t like it,” Bug muttered, rolling his eyes.
“Hey,” Davy added. “Be nice to your stepmother.”
Bug’s sigh was long-suffering.
“We’re taking him back to his mother’s early,” Davy said.
“My best friend, Tom, is having a birthday-party sleepover,” he said. “We’re gonna play Magic all night!”
“Or at least until they fall asleep,” Davy said, with obvious fondness. “You have your backpack?”
“Yeah.”
“Got everything?” Davy prompted. “Toothbrush? Birthday present?”
“Yup.”
“Pajamas?”
Bug froze, and Davy sighed.
“Go get your pajamas, Bug.”
Bug bolted back up the stairs.
Davy looked at Aiden. “Ah, the joys of fatherhood,” he joked, then winced. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be. I mean, sometimes I wonder what it would’ve been like to be a parent,” Aiden admitted. “Then again, sometimes I see shit like that kid who climbed a column right in the middle of an airport, or see those screamers running around in a restaurant, and I think—I could barely handle a houseplant, you know?”
Davy laughed as Bug returned. “Okay!” the boy said, out of breath.
“All right. Mount up.” He looked at Aiden. “Why don’t you talk to me on the way?”
Aiden grimaced. This was not something he wanted to talk about in front of a kid. “We’ll talk on the way back,” he said pointedly.
Davy winced. Then the three of them climbed into Davy’s big, shiny truck. There were perks to owning and running three of the most successful car dealerships in the Eastern Washington area, apparently.
Aiden asked Bug a bunch of questions about school and his friends, and Bug chattered away. Before long they were in front of Bug’s mother’s house. Maria was out on the lawn, watering some flowers with a hose. “Bug!” she called, then wrapped her arms around him. Between the two of them, Aiden could definitely see the resemblance, the Latinx genes popping to the fore. Then she glanced over. “Aiden? I haven’t seen you in ages!”