“You just have to keep acting so . . .” She trailed off, as if she was too angry to find the word. “I am finished. Discussion is over.”
“Mom . . . ,” Aiden growled in warning. “You gave me your word!”
“I don’t care!”
He should have known. He should have known.
She’d never had any intention of addressing his concerns—the driving, the legal paperwork. None of it. This was just one more way to manipulate him, one more way to get what she wanted. Now that it had blown up in her face, she was going to punish him for it.
“I know you’re pissed at me,” he said, gritting his teeth, “and I’m . . . sorry. But this is important.”
“I don’t care,” she repeated. “In fact, I don’t want to talk to you. I don’t want to see you. You want to be this . . . whatever the hell you are? Want to boss me around? Then you don’t have to be in this family!”
The words hit him like an axe. “What?”
“You heard me.”
In previous years, this would have crushed him. He’d be emotionally devastated. He’d twist himself in knots, try to find some way to patch the breach.
Not today.
“Even Dad was okay with my past,” he said. “By the end. He told me he was.” It might’ve been the closest they’d ever been.
“He was dying,” she said coldly. “He made his choices. And he was on all those medications. Who knows what he was thinking?”
“Jesus, Mom.”
They’d gotten to her house. He helped her get out, or at least tried to, until she waved him off. He brought her luggage into the house.
“I mean it,” she said, her eyes snapping like a log fire. “I don’t want to hear from you until you’re ready to . . . to snap out of whatever the hell’s gotten into you. I’m certainly not going to give up my driving because you think it’s necessary, and I’m not going to be the brunt of gossip of Fool’s Falls because you’re . . . you’re . . .” She spluttered, gesturing at him. “Whatever this is.”
Aiden swallowed hard. “Fine.”
He turned, getting back into his car. He felt . . . he wasn’t sure how he was feeling. Strange. Angry, without question, but it was different. It wasn’t laced with the same hopeless desperation that he often felt, dealing with his family.
He didn’t want to go back to his empty house. Instead, he found himself driving to the Upper Falls, to Maggie’s. Her car was in the driveway, thankfully. He knocked on the door.
She opened it, looking like the usual Maggie: no makeup, her hair a tangled, wavy, wild mess. She was wearing the green sweatshirt he’d loaned her that morning, despite the fact that she’d obviously showered, and a pair of oatmeal-colored sweatpants, her feet in thick heather-gray wool socks. Her eyes widened as she took him in.
“Aiden?” She sounded surprised, and he noticed her cheeks went pink before she studied his face. “You all right? What’s going on?”
He swallowed. “I’m sorry. I should’ve called. Just . . .” He took a deep breath. “I wanted to see you.”
“C’mon in,” she said, then opened her arms. He walked into them and held her tight. “It’s okay,” she soothed.
It wasn’t okay . . . not really.
But here, in Maggie’s arms?
It was better, and that was a pretty damned good thing.
CHAPTER 35
TRUE LOVE IS A KINK
Maggie looked at Aiden’s face. He was still wearing the clothes he’d hastily thrown on that morning, which suggested he hadn’t stopped at home. At least she’d changed . . . well, mostly. She was still wearing the sweatshirt he’d loaned her, the one that she’d thrown over her dress when she’d shame-walked out of the hotel and fled to her car.
Thankfully, she hadn’t run into his family or Riley. After the brouhaha from the previous night, she’d calmed down, but she did not want to think what she’d be capable of if they tried to give her shit for being with Aiden. Worse, if they’d tried to give Aiden shit for being with her.
“What happened?” she pressed, leading him to the couch and nudging him to sit down before sitting next to him.
He let out a bitter chuckle, running his hands through his hair, making it stick up almost comically. “Guess I’m disowned,” he said. “Had it out with my mom on the car ride home.”
Maggie felt a stab of guilt, and let out a long breath, looking away. “I’m sorry. That’s probably my fault.”
“It wasn’t,” he said staunchly, nudging her chin so she was facing him. “I mean, yeah, she’s blaming you, and me. But it’s not our fault. I’m tired of feeling like the bad guy for just being myself.”
“Yeah?” She searched his face for any trace of remorse. Instead, she found anger, and . . .
Was that relief?
“You really are okay?” she double-checked.
He nodded, stroking her cheek. Which was awesome. The pads of his fingers were rough and broad and warm, and she was there for it, smiling before she realized what she was doing. He smiled in return. She got the feeling there would be emotional fallout for him, but for now, she wasn’t going to prod. She’d just . . . be there for him.
That felt amazing.
“You’re not the bad guy,” she emphasized, hugging him tight for a long minute. “You didn’t do anything wrong. I’m glad that you’re finally getting that. Don’t fall into beating yourself up again, got it? Or I’m going to go full Bogwitch and kick your ass. And theirs. It’ll be a bloodbath.”
He nuzzled his nose along her throat, making her pulse jump like water on a ripping-hot skillet. “You,” he murmured, adding some kisses and stroking her arms, “are one of my favorite people on earth. You know that?”
“You’ve got some pretty nice qualities yourself,” she said. Or tried to say. Her breathing was awfully uneven for this. Every gasp she took in brought a delicious whiff of luxury-hotel shampoo and soap and that yummy smell that was just Aiden. Comfort, now shot through with a scent of pure heat that was making her body throb.
“Mmm.” He breathed against her skin, heat trailing wherever his mouth went.
Her body was going bananas. It occurred to her that after dry humping him like a teenager last night, she’d been more than happy to cuddle up with him and conk out, rather than stay up and have some kind of wild sex marathon. Partially because, after the long drive and the emotional upheaval with the family drama, with one of the most powerful orgasms she’d had in her life on top of it, she was pretty fucking wiped out. But there was also the realization that, despite really enjoying said orgasm, she was running pretty damned impulsively with this. They had been friends for months, true, and she genuinely cared about him—more than she had realized she would at this point. Still, jumping into sex on the heels of all that adrenaline was, quite possibly, a foolish move.
Of course, now they’d had a surprisingly good night’s sleep. He’d had a rough morning with family from the sounds of it, but he was here, and he seemed . . . happy?
She loved when he was happy.