To his surprise, his mother unleashed a wide smile. “But here’s the thing. You told me I don’t have to talk to you about any of this stuff. You said you’d drop it. So we’re not going to talk about it.”
“What?” Aiden gaped. “When did I say that?”
“When you said you’d have a date.” She looked smug.
He narrowed his eyes, trying to remember their “agreement.” “Mom, just because I don’t have a date doesn’t mean it’s not important. We have to talk about this!”
“Nuh-uh.” His mother looked triumphant, crossing her arms as a waiter put little bowls of ice cream in front of all four of them. “We had a deal. No date, no discussion. I get to drive again. And if you bring up any of that ‘long-term care’ crap, I will boot you out of my house!”
He felt a chill run down his spine, exchanging a worried look with Davy. “But . . . I don’t live with you.”
There was a split second of surprise.
No. Not surprise. Confusion.
“Well, you’re there often enough,” his mother carped, but her tone was more hesitant. “That’s what I meant.”
Aiden felt like his shoulders were made of granite. He wanted to howl. Part of him felt like throwing up his hands and saying, Fine! Do what the hell you want! Just walk away and leave her to her own stubbornness. She’d hated so many aspects of him, for so long. The nursing. The “gay thing.” The potential scandal. Never getting married, never having kids. What the hell did he need her judgments for? Why keep helping her when she made his life so miserable?
But then he’d think about the times she’d stayed up with him when he had a fever, or when she sat with him at the ER when he’d broken his clavicle playing football. The way she’d read stories to him when he was a kid, including doing the silly voices. The games she’d shown up to. The way she and his father had scrimped and saved to make sure he and Davy went off to college, even though they never had, because they wanted better for their kids.
It was complicated, and it hurt. But he couldn’t walk away.
“I’m going up to my room,” his mother said, once they’d finished their dessert, with Davy doing all the talking . . . too-cheerful, totally surface chatter about something that had happened at one of the dealerships. Aiden assumed it was supposed to be funny. He couldn’t focus enough to tell. “Davy? Sheryl? Why don’t you walk me. It’s on this floor.”
Aiden went to give her a hug, and she grudgingly let him. Appearances, he knew, and that hurt his chest just a little bit more.
He waved to some people, hugged Jason and Hailey, and retreated to his own room.
He thought briefly about drinking, but decided against it—just because tomorrow was going to be almost unbearable as it was, and it would only be compounded if he was hungover. The last thing he needed was to have people reading into his alcohol consumption as well. He didn’t know how they were going to interpret the little scene his family had going on tonight, but he could imagine the family grapevine was already hard at work.
He wanted desperately to talk to someone. He even considered talking to Malcolm—but it was Friday, the sixteenth of December. He knew Malcolm was picking up last-minute presents for the kids and doing holiday stuff. He didn’t want to bother him.
You know who you could call . . .
He closed his eyes. He hadn’t talked to Maggie since she’d turned him down. It wasn’t that they weren’t in contact—they still texted, even if it was more stilted. They still went on raids with the guild. But they hadn’t met in person. He didn’t want to make her feel awkward or defensive, and was afraid he’d managed to do both.
He missed her. Man, did he miss her.
I can call a friend, can’t I?
But he didn’t want to use her. She wasn’t his soother. She deserved more than just being his woobie when he was down.
But it was more than just needing her as an emotional grounding rod. He liked talking to her. He’d hoped that she felt the same.
Did she feel the same?
Maybe . . . maybe he could just talk to her. No emotional demands. Just . . . be friends.
He sighed. Then he picked up his phone.
She answered almost immediately. “Aiden?”
“Hey there,” he said—but his damned voice rasped, and he cleared his throat. “Just . . . it’d been a while. Thought maybe I could call, if that’s okay?”
“Of course it’s okay,” she said, but she still sounded off.
“I’m sorry. I could . . .”
Could what? Give her space? Not call her?
Why did this have to be so hard?
“It’s fine, Otter,” she said, and he couldn’t help himself—he smiled at her no-nonsense tone and the guild nickname. “We’re friends, you can call. I like talking to you. Stop being weird.”
He chuckled. “Got it.”
After that, he was able to spend twenty blessed minutes talking with her about nothing in particular. She told him that Kit seemed to be doing well. Her friend Mac had a new boyfriend, and her latest editing client had changed his manuscript five times. He’d commiserated, laughed, and felt his muscles relax even as his chest warmed.
God, he liked this woman.
“Now, your turn,” she said. “You at the wedding? Because you sounded tense.”
“No.” He sighed. “Rehearsal dinner.”
There was a pause, like she was weighing his words, then a sigh. “Right, spit it out,” she said, with some of the sharp fire he was used to. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing,” he quickly replied.
“I didn’t just fall down on the last drop of rain, y’know.” He could almost imagine her stern frown.
“What does that even mean?”
“I don’t know. Something Nana Birdie always said. Now, spill.”
He huffed impatiently at himself. “I am having a kind of shitty night,” he admitted. “But it’s not a big deal, okay? I don’t want you to think I just call when I’m in trouble. I like talking to you. I don’t want you to feel obligated.”
“Oh, shut up,” she said, and he barked out a laugh. “I told you already: I’ve got your back. That doesn’t change. Now, talk.”
CHAPTER 28
EVEN EVIL HAS STANDARDS
Maggie was nervous. Which was ridiculous. She hadn’t even wanted to answer the phone, but at the same time, she missed hearing from him. She knew that the wedding was this week—he’d missed that night’s dungeon run—and she had been curious. Had he wound up asking Deb? Maybe someone else?
That bugged her a little, although she didn’t want to think of why it bothered her.
But now he was calling, and he was upset, even if he didn’t want to show it. He said he was having a shitty night. The fact that he was nervous about talking to her, afraid of using her, made her hard little heart melt like a sugar cube in coffee. Which was the last thing she needed if she was trying to get past this crush, admittedly.
What could she say? The guy was her kryptonite.
She settled into her bed, where she’d been tucked in with a book, a large mug of tea on her nightstand.