Chapter Fourteen

AARON

Present day . . .

“Come on, dude, pick it the fuck up,” I snap at Racer, who is more than sluggish this morning. “We are already behind. We need to finish the drywall today.”

“We have employees to do this.”

“And since they’re behind, we have to pick up the slack, so get your shit into gear. I can’t do this on my own.”

Racer huffs and lifts the drywall over his head and then props it up for me to drill. “What’s your problem today?”

“What’s my problem?” I put a drywall screw on the drill and secure part of the sheet of drywall to the ceiling. “What the hell is your problem?”

“Isn’t it obvious? I put too much beer down my beer hole last night. Georgie was in rare form last night and decided to challenge me to a drinking contest. For every beer we drank, the other person had to take clothes off. Wanting to stare at her boobs, I chugged. If I knew you were going to be bossy bitch pants today, I would have just seduced her with my manly ways.”

“Don’t fucking say beer hole.” The images for some reason are fucked up in my head and the last thing I need to picture is Racer’s “beer hole.”

“Lighten up, man. You’re making this a very hostile working environment. I’m not opposed to taking this to HR.”

“Go ahead, tell Lucia about your ‘hostile’ work environment. I’ll be sure to let her know you came in hungover.”

Racer studies me. “You know, how about we solve this like the bosses we are, no need to bring our upper management issues to HR.”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

Yes, we own the company but our silent investor is Georgie’s father. That’s right. Racer’s girlfriend’s dad, therefore Racer tries to avoid escalating any issues to him if we can avoid it. He’s still trying to prove his worth to the man, even though he doesn’t need to.

Racer tosses a screw at me and asks, “Seriously, what is going on? Why do you look like you’re hauling a bazooka around in your back pocket ready to blow the heads off people who get in your way?”

I drill in another screw, my mind racing to the other night. She knows about my brothers, but how much does she know? Will she be able to piece together my past with Trey’s? Will she be able to figure it out?

I never told her. I never came close to mentioning it. When I was younger, I was interested in their lives, what it was like to be in their shoes, but after call upon call from my mom giving me the update on the luxurious and privileged lives they were living, I wanted to forget them, to erase them from my memory. What was the point of talking about them to Amelia? They’d never be a part of my life.

Why would I tell Amelia I was the brother deemed unworthy of a good home?

“Come on, man, just fucking say it. You know you’ll feel better.” He reaches over to tickle my side like the douche he is, and I swat him away.

“Do you want us to get injured on the job? This scaffolding is not going to hold us if you’re acting like a dickhead.”

“Then just fucking talk it out. Does it have to do with Amelia?”

I put in the last screws then set the drill on the scaffolding. I run my hand through my hair and nod. “We had such a fun night the other night volunteering. It was like old times, and fuck, did it feel good. When we got back to our houses, we sat on my truck and talked for a bit.”

“So what’s the problem?”

I cringe, thinking about the look on her face, the one that’s burned in my memory. “I blew up at her.”

“Not with your bazooka?” Racer dramatically asks.

The urge to punch him square in the eye is real.

“Why do I even fucking bother?” I shake my head as Racer stops me from hopping down to the ground, a good distance away.

“I’m just trying to lighten the mood. I’m sorry, why did you blow up at her?”

Thinking back to that moment, I can’t believe the mention of my brothers slipped out of her mouth. That was the last thing I expected her to say. That drunken night, fuck, it was one of the worst nights of my life, only second to when I actually followed through with breaking up with Amelia.

I was so mad, so angry, so defeated. I was striving to be a better man, a more suitable man for Amelia, and then my mom called. She’d received an update on Runt, and on the same day, Tyke happened to email her as well, letting her know how he’d accepted an amazing job offer. Beaming with brilliance about the men she gave birth to, she boasted, only to follow up with a low jab at me about my job, and if I planned on working at the sanitation plant forever.

What the fuck did it matter if I did? It’s not like she’d assisted in getting me to where I was; she should have been happy I wasn’t some lowlife like my father. But reasoning with her was like reasoning with a brick wall, so I flew off the deep end. I decided to drink, and drink I did.

I barely remembered Amelia showing up. I sure as shit didn’t remember saying anything to her, and there was no way I could’ve heard her speak to my mom on the phone. Now I wish I had, because I want to know exactly what was said in that conversation.

“She kind of dropped a bomb on me last night,” I continue. “We were talking about our relationship and she asked why I didn’t let her into my world. I told her she had been my fucking world.”

“Obviously.” Racer knows, he knows all too well what it’s like to be owned mind, body, and soul by a woman.

“She then asked why I never told her about my brothers.”

Racers props up, his jovial attitude morphing into something of serious concern. “How the hell does she know about your brothers?” I recount the night I got seriously drunk and my alcohol-affected attempt to break up with her. “So she talked to your mom?”

“I guess so.”

“Knowing what you’ve said about your mom, I’m sure she didn’t have much of a filter during that conversation, especially if she knew she upset you.”

That’s what I’m afraid of.

I pull on the back of my neck with both of my hands. “What do I do, man? Do I ignore my blow up and act like everything is okay? Do I just go about my regular business? Or do I bring it up? Do I ask her for details?”

Racer shrugs, looking a little perplexed too. “I don’t know. I guess it all depends on what you really want to come out of this situation. Do you want to dive deep into a post-mortem of your past relationship, or do you want to start fresh?”

And that’s the million-dollar question. Things could backfire badly if I don’t tell her about Trey. If she finds out I know, or rather knew, she’d been dating my brother—that’s if she breaks up with him—I don’t know if we’d come back from that sort of thing. I don’t think I have as many chances this time around. Fuck. I don’t want to tell Racer and Tucker about that little nugget yet. I’ll have to, but to be honest, I don’t want them to talk me out of pursuing Amelia even though she’s dating my brother. Dive deep or start fresh?

“Start fresh, but wouldn’t that require me to be open and honest with her about the past she knows a sliver about?”

Racer pats me on the back. “It would.”

Once again, that’s what I’m fucking afraid of.

***

Rain and hail pelt my face as I hold up my hand, trying to see where the hell I’m going. It took about ten minutes of frustration and getting soaked, but I finally have my generator up and running after I assisted half the neighborhood.

This has to be one of the nastiest storms I’ve experienced, and it isn’t quitting any time soon.

A flash of lightning followed by a giant rumble of thunder shakes me from my feet up as I make it back into my house. Soaking wet, I quickly disrobe to nothing and pick my clothes off the floor so I don’t ruin the hardwood. I toss them in my bathroom hamper as I hear a knock at my door.

Shit.

I don’t want to scare one of my elderly neighbors with my fucking dick hanging out, so I quickly wrap a towel around my waist and jog to the front door. When I open it, I’m startled to see a wet Amelia with her hands in her pockets, hopping from side to side.

It’s dark in the entryway, so I flip on a light and when her eyes adjust, she takes in my bare torso, her eyes roaming from my tattooed arms, to the scar on my chest, down my abs, and to just above where my towel drapes around my hips. When her gaze returns to mine, I notice a slight blush in her cheeks.

“Uh, sorry were you in the middle of something?” she asks, looking at the ground.

“No, helped out a few neighbors with their generators. I was soaking wet, so I was about to change. What’s up?”

This feels awkward and not just because the only thing covering me is a thin terrycloth towel.

“The power is out in my house. Mrs. Ferguson doesn’t happen to have a generator as well, does she?”

Fuck.

“No, she hasn’t put one in yet. She was waiting for next year after she’s saved for it. Shit.” I scratch my jaw. “Umm, I have a guest room you can stay in for the night. The power should be back on by tomorrow.”

“Oh, no. That’s okay. I don’t mind the dark, I was just checking to see if there was a generator. If not, no big deal. Thanks though.” She turns away from me but not before I reach out and grab her shoulder.

“Amelia, you’re not going to hang out in the dark over there. I have a generator that’s working perfectly fine.”

“Aaron . . .” She sighs. “That’s not a good idea. Things between us are strained—”

“They’re not,” I rush to say. Pulling on my hair, I watch her eyes scan my bicep. It’s not easy to avoid being distracted by her perusal. By her . . . hungry eyes. “I’m sorry about the other night. I shouldn’t have gotten mad at you like that. You were right. There were some things I held back from you because I’d tried to forget them. I just”—I sigh, hating that I’m having this conversation in a towel—“can you come in for a second so I can get changed?”

A little unsure, she gnaws on her lip and then nods. I didn’t realize I was holding my breath until she starts walking into my house. Her clothes are dripping wet, making her look so small, so ragged. I’d hand her my towel, but that’d leave me in nothing, and I doubt this is the time to reintroduce her to my penis. “Give me a second. I’ll grab a towel.”

When I step away, a loud crack of thunder shakes the house, jumpstarting my heart. Hell, that was loud. I race to my bedroom, which is upstairs, and quickly change into a plain T-shirt and grey sweatpants. I towel off my head, snag a pair of flannel pants and an old shirt for Amelia, and head downstairs.

She’s standing in the entryway, taking in my house when I reach her. “Uh, I figured you might be a little cold and wet. Bathroom is to the right, past the dining room, and there are clean towels under the sink. Here are some clothes if you want to change.”

“Thank you,” she answers quietly before grabbing them and rushing to the bathroom.

With a hand towel from the kitchen, I wipe up the wet floors and start the kettle for tea. I know she’ll want some; she always has tea during thunderstorms. She always had tea during thunderstorms.

The kettle starts to whistle when she pops out of the bathroom. “In the kitchen,” I call out, “to the left.”

When she finds me, she leans against the doorway and says, “I hope it’s okay that I hung my clothes on the shower rod.”

My back is toward her, fixing us both some tea. “That’s perfectly fine.” When I turn around, I’m met with one gorgeous fucking sight in front of me. Amelia, drowning in my clothes, her little body entirely too small for my large clothes, but she makes it work with some folding of the pants and tying of the shirt. Her hair is wet and now draped over her shoulders, letting little pelts of water drip down the shirt she’s wearing and fuck, I’m pretty sure she’s not wearing a bra by the way I can see a slight bump of her nipple. I clear my throat and hand her a mug. “Tea?”

“You remembered.” She smiles while taking the mug.

“There is very little I’ve forgotten, Amelia.” I cast a serious glance her way. My gaze must be too strong because she turns toward the living room.

Making herself at home, she sits on the couch and tucks her feet under her. How many times have I envisioned this very moment in my head, where Amelia is cuddled up on my couch with a cup of tea in her hand, wearing my clothes? But unlike my dreams, I can’t touch her, I can’t wrap myself around her like I want to because she’s not mine.

“Your house is really nice, Aaron.”

“Thank you.” I quickly load the fireplace with logs so I can start a fire to light and heat the room. I have a generator but tend to avoid maxing out if I can. Once the fire is well on its way, I grab my cup of tea and sit on the other side of the couch, facing Amelia.

“What do you know?” I ask her, hoping she’ll open up.

How much did my mom tell her? Does she know Trey is my brother? Has she been with him this entire time, knowing we share the same blood? I’m not sure that’s something I can handle if it’s true.

From over her mug, her eyes search mine. “Just that you have brothers. I don’t know how many.” My shoulders ease some of the tension they’ve carried. She sips from her mug and says, “I want you to know that the night I talked to your mom, the minute she said something about your brothers, I knew I was crossing a line. I knew she was telling me information you probably didn’t want me to hear about, but I can’t understand why you didn’t want me to know.”

If I ever want to have a chance at being with her again, I need to open up.

“I have two biological brothers.”

“Biological? As in same mom and dad?” I nod. “Why didn’t you ever talk about them?”

My heart is racing at an impeccable speed, making it difficult to breathe. “I didn’t grow up with them. My mom gave them up for adoption.”

“Both of them?”

“Yeah. I only know them through letters and pictures from their adoptive parents.”

Amelia sits quietly for a second. I can see her mind racing, as if she’s trying to connect the dots. “A loving family,” she whispers.

“What?”

Her eyes meet mine, and there is a softness to them now, a deep understanding. “That night, you said something that stuck with me. You said I deserved someone with a loving family.” I squeeze my eyes tight. Fuck, why did I have to get blackout drunk? “You also said no one wanted you besides the woman who didn’t deserve you.” She tilts her head to the side. “You were talking about your mom, weren’t you?”

Embarrassed, I nod. “Yes.” I place my tea on the coffee table and turn to her. “I had a shitty childhood, Amelia. My mom acted like she loved me, like I was the only thing in her life she cared about, but she really didn’t.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because, if she truly cared about me, she would have given me the same opportunity to thrive like my brothers. There were nights I went to bed without food, because she forgot to go grocery shopping. I’d wanted to play on the football team, but I couldn’t because my mom wasn’t reliable enough to get me to practice. There were mornings I wished I didn’t wake up to my mom hungover from God knows what on the couch, using my fucking homework as her cushion. And when I was the most bitter, the most angry about her not acting like a mom, she would boast about what a great person she was for selflessly giving my brothers a better life. All I could think about was what about me?” Why had I not deserved the better life? Why did she keep me if giving away my brothers gave her the most joy? Why? Me?

“Oh Aaron, I had no idea.”

“I know. I tried to hide that part of my life. It’s why you never spent too much time with my mom. Why we spent holidays at your house, because I couldn’t bear to have you exposed to that side of me.” It was a truth I’d wanted thrown away forever.

“You could have told me. I wouldn’t have looked at you any differently.”

“And I should have known that, but I was too damn ashamed.”

“There is no reason for you to be ashamed about something you have no control over. You should be proud.” She scoots closer and puts her hand on my leg. “You have come so far from when I first met you. Look around, Aaron. You own a beautiful house, you have your own construction company, and you have loyal friends. You’ve done so well.”

My eyes lift to hers. “But the one thing I really want doesn’t belong to me anymore because like a dumbass, I let her go.”

It’s on the tip of my tongue, the biggest confession.

You’re dating my biological brother.

You’re dating the one person I’ve envied the most. Who’s always had everything I’ve ever wanted, and now most importantly, that includes you.

But I can’t. I can’t fucking say it. I can’t risk telling her. What if she sees the difference between us? The same difference my mom sees? What if she realizes she lucked out and picked the right brother? I can’t stomach that. I can’t fathom knowing that, if Amelia had a choice, she would still choose Trey over me.

It would fucking destroy me.

So I keep my mouth shut. She doesn’t need to know because it won’t matter, not when I win her back.

She searches me, her chest rising and falling faster. I’m tempted to say fuck it, to take what I think is mine, to scoop her up into my arms and show her how much I’ve missed her, how much we truly belong together. How much I need and want her. But I know if I do that, she’ll resent me, because Amelia is loyal. I don’t want to do anything to jeopardize that. I won’t.

That doesn’t mean I won’t let her know how I truly feel. I think that’s okay. I can’t act on it, though. Perhaps she’ll think it a cowardice move, telling her how I feel and then leaving the ball in her court. But I lied to her three years ago about my feelings, and I don’t want to lie about them again.

“Why?” she asks, her words a small whisper. Her hand still rests on my leg, her body leaning toward mine, the light flicker of the fire bouncing off her smooth skin. Shit, I want her so damn bad.

Losing my train of thought, I ask, “Why what?”

“Why did you let me go? Why did you turn your back on me?”

Not expecting to dive into what we used to have, I shift on the couch, trying to get somewhat comfortable, which causes Amelia to pull her hand back, but it doesn’t make her sit any farther away.

“Did you really stop loving me?” Her voice breaks and her face falls flat, sadness consuming her.

I lift her chin and shake my head. “Never, Amelia. I’ve never stopped loving you.”

“Then why?”

“Because.” I swallow hard. “Because you needed to leave. You needed to take the scholarship at Columbia. I could see it in your eyes; you were ready to give it all up to stay with me.”

“I was. I wanted to be with you, Aaron.”

“And that’s exactly why I broke us up, because you were going to give up so much for something so small. I couldn’t let you waste your dreams on me.”

“You could have moved with me.”

“No.” I shake my head. “I couldn’t.” How do I explain this, after everything we just spoke of? It’s going to sound so fucked up in the head . . . maybe because it is. “I couldn’t leave my mom. Despite everything I can’t stand about her and the amount of animosity I hold against her, she’s still my mom. She would have destroyed herself if I left, if she lost me as well.”

“I would have waited for you. We could’ve worked it out. But you . . . you didn’t give me a chance.”

“Because you deserved better, Amelia,” I say sternly. She sits back on the couch, a little stunned from my tone. “You deserved so much fucking better. You were going places. You had aspirations. I was a trash sorter at the sanitation plant with an out-of-reach dream for a different future. At the time, I would never have imagined I would be where I am today, and I didn’t want to hold you back.”

Amelia purses her lips as her eyes narrow. “That’s the stupidest reason I’ve ever heard.” Setting her tea on the coffee table next to mine, she paces my living room. “You really broke up with me because you didn’t think you were good enough, and you didn’t want to hold me back?”

Umm, this wasn’t how I envisioned this conversation going. I knew she would be mad, but angry, pissed off, looking to wring my neck with her own damn hands, yeah, that reaction never crossed my mind. Not even once.

“You had so much going for you. I wanted you to go for it.”

“Bullshit,” she spits out. She pushes her hair back and stares at me. “You took the coward’s way out.”

Okay, now she’s starting to piss me off. If she only fucking knew . . .

“Coward?” I stand as well. “How the fuck is that the coward’s way out? I gave up the only thing I loved. I was fucking miserable.”

Coming closer, she pokes me in the chest, her fiery spirit kicking in. “We could have worked it out, but you chose to give up instead.”

“For you,” I add.

“No, Aaron, what you did had nothing to do with me and everything to do with you. College wasn’t forever, but we were. We were supposed to end up together, but you gave that up because you couldn’t put in the time.”

“Don’t fucking say that. I would have done anything for you.” Anger inside me starts to boil over as the storm outside picks up. Rain pelts my windows, thunder rolls constantly over the house, and lightning strikes simultaneously.

“You destroyed me,” Amelia states, emphasizing every word. “You made me believe you never truly loved me. You took a piece of me I wanted to hold on to for a lifetime. You were my first and only love, Aaron. You unfairly made a decision for the both of us and took any chance of me being able to rectify what you so wrongfully stole from me.”

Hearing the pain in her voice, the way she struggles to get the words out, my heart breaks into a million pieces. Leaning against a wall, I let out a heavy breath. “I thought I was doing the right thing.” I rub my eyes with my palms. “I was so fucked in the head, Amelia. I nosedived after you left. Racer and Tucker are the only reason I’m not living in a gutter somewhere.”

Amelia shakes her head, tears spilling from her eyes. “You caused us both so much pain when all you needed to do was talk to me.” It wasn’t that easy. Why can’t she see it wasn’t that simple?

“I was too damn ashamed. I’d rather push you toward your dream than have you push me away.”

“I loved you, Aaron. I never would’ve pushed you away. I wanted to make room in my life around you, because you were the center of it.”

“Why? Why did you want me?” I ask, needing some kind of reasoning. I’ve never felt like the center of anyone’s life. I revolved around my mom’s moods and selfless achievements. Every time she told me or others how selfless she’d been, I always felt as though I was a thorn in her side. The child she had to keep, had to give a shitty life . . . as if it was all my fault. As if I was the root of selfishness. So although I’d felt touches of importance being loved by Amelia, I never felt I deserved it. That . . . significance. And even though she said I broke her heart, that she would’ve made room for me, I was—again—simply the recipient of generosity. She moved on. Her heart had been broken, but she moved on and now loves someone else. How can she say I was her world if she so easily moved on? So, fucking why? “Why was I so damn important to you?” I sound angry, but I can’t temper the fire inside me. “What could I offer you that no one else could?”

The anger igniting her words dissipates as she studies me. Her eyes soften, and her shoulders slump. Confused, she walks toward me until she has me pinned against the wall. With trepidation, her hand connects with my jaw, her gaze trained on mine. “Did you really think you had nothing to offer?” she asks quietly. “Did you have that much self-doubt that you truly didn’t think you were good enough to be with me?” I nod, my throat too damn tight to answer. A lone tear streaks down her cheek. “That makes me so sad, Aaron, because you gave me the world. You taught me to be carefree, to live freely, to experience everything firsthand. You instilled adventure in my life. You showed me what it felt like to be passionately loved. You were my first, but you showed me that being intimate could be an all-consuming act of being in love with another human. Never once did I care about the material things when it came to our relationship, because what I cared most about what this.” She presses her hand against my heart as her other hand holds my jaw.

My breath hitches in my chest as her warm body presses against mine. I can’t help it. I can’t stop my body from reacting to hers. There is no way I can keep my hands off her. I bring my hands to her hips where I grip her tightly, fucking reveling in the feel of her again. Everything about this woman has my body and mind begging for one more chance.

“I’m sorry,” I say softly, pulling her closer.

Her chest rises and falls against mine, her nipples pebbled and alert as her hand on my chest glides up to my neck where she grips me tightly.

“I’m so fuckin sorry,” I whisper, pressing my forehead against hers. My body tingled with awareness, with how close I am to her. Just inches from taking what I want, what I so desperately need.

Her other hand also finds the back of my neck. Her scent fills my senses, eating me whole, making me yearn so fucking bad that I might burst into flames if I don’t get to taste her, just a little, just for a second.

I feel myself starting to lose control; my will is slipping. God, I want her. I need her. This consuming feeling of claiming her as mine is taking over.

“I’m sorry, too. I wish I’d put up more of a fight. I was so crushed.”

Our noses touch, our lips are so close, so tempting.

My hands find the hem of her shirt and slip underneath, running up her bare back. Her skin is so soft, just as I remembered. Silky and smooth, my palm presses against her back as it goes higher and higher until it’s between her shoulder blades. No fucking bra. I glance down and spot a small strip of her skin peeking out from where her shirt is lifted. I want to taste that strip of skin, run my tongue along it and then dip lower.

Tempting the thin ounce of self-control I have left in me, I move my hands until they’re at her ribcage. My thumbs rub her skin, so close to her breasts but not close enough. Her breath hitches, and she shifts in my embrace, moving closer as she exhales, the tiniest of moans accompanying it.

What would she do if I kissed her, if I moved my hands a few more inches and held her breasts? Would she care? Would she be mad? Or would she lose control like I’m about to?

Fuck, I hope she wants this as much as I do.

Speaking low, desperation lacing my voice, I say, “I wish you’d put up more of a fight too.” But I’m fairly certain I wouldn’t have conceded. I was blind to the unfairness of life, of my life, and wouldn’t have moved from that point. The bottom line would have been the same, no matter what. She. Deserved. More.

I pull her in even closer and lick my lips. She does the same. Her intentions are as clear as mine. I bend to her lips, my heart beating so rapidly I’m afraid I’ll fall over. I move those last inches forward then a loud boom of thunder erupts over the house, shaking the bones of the foundation and scaring us both, putting distance between our intimate embrace and hitting us with a fresh dose of reality.

We almost fucking kissed.

We almost kissed when Amelia isn’t mine to kiss.

When I spot her over on the other side of the living room, her hand is in her hair, her eyes looking a little wild and her body buzzing.

We make eye contact, and I’m tempted to stalk over to her, replicate our hold, and kiss her, kiss her so fucking hard, but I hold back because there is some serious regret hiding behind those expressive eyes of hers, and the last thing I want is for her to regret me, to regret us.

“We almost kissed,” she says in disbelief. “God, I almost kissed you.”

“I’m sorry—”

“What the hell were we thinking?”

“Well, I don’t think—”

“You had your hand up my shirt.” She points at me with an accusatory finger.

Trying to lighten the mood, I say, “Technically it’s my shirt, and it wasn’t like I was grabbing your boob. I was just, uh, making sure your spine was in line.”

That comment rewards me with a get real look.

“Don’t worry.” I give her a thumbs up. “Your back checked out just fine.”

“Aaron.” She stomps the ground in front of her, causing me to smile. “I’m being serious. I’m in a committed relationship, and we almost kissed. I can’t be kissing you, not when I’m with someone else.”

“We can fix that easily. Just break up with him. See? Simple.” Although I know it’s anything but simple.

“What? No.”

Even though she’s saying no, I see the way she looks at me, the way her body reacts to mine. There is still something resting heavily between us and I’ll be damned if I’m not going to act on it.

I walk toward her, my eyes trained on hers. Slightly scared, she backs up until she’s against the wall. I take that as my cue and close in on her, pinning her against the wall with both my hands on either side of her head.

I have her just where I want her.