Chapter Three
Emma
Mac clears his throat. Shit, I hope he didn’t see me leering.
“Do you mind waiting here, Emma? A reporter from the Gazette comes at this time every week to do a feature on one of our dogs. I have to get the lady of the hour ready to pose for her close-up.”
“Not at all. Thank you for the tour.”
After Mac leaves, I continue to stare, happy for the privacy to check out Aiden Sheffield.
Wait…what?
Mac had said he was twenty years older, but it didn’t register then. This can’t be Aiden. He is definitely older than me, but not by much. Mom was no cradle robber, and moreover, she was no cheater. I swallow down the bile rising in my throat and cram the thought into a dark corner of my head. She would never cheat on my dad. Never.
The whole way here, I practiced what I would say to this mysterious man who meant so much to Mom, but those rehearsed words no longer make sense. Seeing Aiden Sheffield hasn’t done a damn thing to solve the mystery. I’m more confused than ever.
He turns in my direction. I freeze, still as an opossum, as he strides toward me. I am that tall girl who stood in the back during school pictures and programs, but he looms over me, his shadow making the sunny day a few degrees colder. We stare for an awkward moment. His damp hair, although cut short, is thick, forking over his forehead. Stubble covers the strong angle of his jaw. He’s not perfect, though. His nose is slightly crooked, and a deep, jagged scar covers his right cheek. The contrast of those hurts against the rest of his face makes him look rougher, maybe even dangerous. His eyes draw most of my attention, though. Thick eyelashes—the kind any girl would kill for—hover above shimmering green orbs that don’t just catch the light…they steal it.
“May I help you?” he asks, his smile tight like it’s forced.
Struggling to find my voice, I finally respond. “Aiden Sheffield?”
“Guilty. Are you here to adopt?”
“No.”
The pit bull whines at that. Without taking his eyes off me, Aiden pulls out a plastic bag from his pocket and throws him a treat. Unable to keep staring at him, my gaze shifts down. I get a good look at Aiden’s pal. The dog’s tail wags, but only one of his ears perks. The other ear is completely missing, and the poor boy’s jaw is misshapen.
Aiden draws my attention back to him. “You’re making my pack nervous.”
That’s exactly what they look like…a pack. A family where he is the alpha. All the dogs have now come toward the fence, sitting in a straight line. They seem calm but curious as they flip their heads between us.
“They don’t look nervous.”
“They are. They can smell your fear. They won’t hurt you.”
“I know.”
“Then what are you afraid of?”
You.
He smirks, moving forward so we are only inches from each other, separated by the chain-link fence. His gaze lingers on me, far too long for comfort. He smells masculine, of soap and sweat and something distinctively him.
“Who are you, mystery girl? Too old to be selling cookies, too young to be from the Gazette, and too innocent to be spouting religion.”
“I’m Emma Cooper. Angela’s daughter.”
It’s a flicker in his features, but I catch the scowl before it disappears. The dogs start surrounding Aiden and stare at me with suspicion. It’s as if they are protecting him…from me.
“What do you want?” His tone is curt, almost demanding.
I shift from foot to foot. “Can we talk?”
The dogs stand at attention now.
“Go to the house and wait for me.” He snaps the words like a command.
“Um…”
“Now.”
Okay, this is weird, but I turn and walk toward the house. It’s a long walk, since I’m almost at the other end of the property. It gives me time to chew over Aiden Sheffield. Talk about bad first impressions…on both our parts.
When I reach the house, I knock at the back door. No one answers. No way I’m going to let myself into the house. I sit on the back porch, stewing at Aiden’s lack of manners.
Mac is not far off, chatting with a pretty blonde in a blue wrap dress. Her heels are so high and pointy that they sink into the soft dirt. Mac holds a medium-sized dog with the face of a Chihuahua and the body of a shepherd. I wince, hoping her mama was the shepherd. The dog wears a pretty pink bow around her neck. A few minutes later, Aiden marches past them with the pit bull in tow, his eyes fixed on me. I want the ground to open and swallow me whole.
“Aiden,” the blonde says, grabbing his arm. He stops, his face tilting toward her manicured fingers now curled around his bicep. It’s clear the touch isn’t welcome. Well, clear to me, anyway. She doesn’t seem to notice. That is, until Aiden takes a step back.
The woman looks down at the huge beast beside Aiden and takes a step back herself. Aiden snaps his fingers toward the dog and points in my direction. “Go on, boy. Porch.” Okay, so he’s pointing at the porch, not me.
He watches as the dog approaches me.
I hold my hand out for our official meeting. “Hey, boy,” I say. “You’re a sweet boy, aren’t you?”
The dog wags his tail in agreement and lifts his chin.
Mac clears his throat. “Aiden, you remember Jenna from the Gazette.” The warning in his voice is clear. I practically hear Mac tell Aiden to behave.
Aiden finally peels his eyes away from the dog. He flashes the blonde a big smile, and she beams like a pre-lit plastic Christmas tree. “Nice to see you again.”
She shifts closer to him. “I’m so glad you’re here. Can I finally convince you to sit down for that interview? You have such an interesting story.”
“I’m flattered, but as I’ve told you before, I don’t do interviews, and I’m not so interesting.”
“I doubt our readers will agree. An ex-marine, MMA fighter who rescues abused dogs? That has potential written all over it.”
She must be a good reporter because in one succinct sentence, she’s given me a great deal of information. I suppose a smarter girl would have Googled Aiden before making assumptions. Then again, I’d sold my laptop months ago. My haste to get packed and say good-bye to my childhood home hadn’t left time for much else.
Jenna’s expression doesn’t waver, except behind her bright, pink, lipsticked smile there is an undeniable attraction to Aiden.
Careful, this one’s more feral than friendly.
“I appreciate the opportunity, but I’ll have to pass…again.”
“Oh, come on, Aiden. An interview will be good for this place. It’ll skyrocket your donations.”
“Jenna,” Mac interrupts, holding up the puppy. “This girl has been waiting patiently. She actually does want an interview.”
Jenna barely looks at the dog. “I’ll give you my card in case you change your mind.”
Aiden pets the puppy in Mac’s arms and takes a deep breath as if it requires effort for him to be civil. “Thank you for the weekly features in your paper. We’ve been able to adopt out many pets because of it. But despite my profession, I am a private person. I won’t change my mind, ma’am.”
She does something between a sneer and wince, clearly not appreciative of being referred to as “ma’am.” I, on the other hand, think it was kind of charming. Maybe the only charming thing he’s done.
But, not one to give up, Jenna opens her mouth again. “Well…maybe we could chat about it in more detail over dinner tonight?”
I’m not sure whether to roll my eyes or feel sorry for her. It’s painful to watch someone get rejected, even if they are barking up the wrong tree.
“Again, thank you for the offer.” Aiden turns back to me, his expression almost a glare. “Please, excuse me. I have a guest.”
Aiden walks past me, up the stairs.
“Come,” he says, swinging the door open.
I’m not sure if he’s talking to the dog or me. We both heed the call. I follow him into the kitchen where he takes a beer out of the fridge.
“Beer?”
“Sure.”
His eyes narrow. “How old are you?”
“Twenty.”
“Root beer, then.”
I’m not one for drinking, anyway, but I sure could use something, anything to take the edge off. “I’ll have water, please.”
He reaches into the fridge and tosses a plastic water bottle at me. I awkwardly catch it. Just when I think he has manners.
“Thank you.”
He juts his chin toward the table, indicating I should sit. I comply, wondering if he’ll throw me a bone next. He remains standing, his arms crossed. A dominant stance, made even grander by his tall, muscular frame.
The dog lays his head on my lap. “What’s his name?” I ask.
“Theo.”
“Hello, Theo.”
“His full name is Theseus, but it’s hard for people to remember.”
I stroke Theo’s dark, shiny fur. He wags his tail and licks my hand. “That’s a mythological name, right?”
“Yeah.”
“I’ve heard the name Theseus, but I don’t remember the story.”
“He was the slayer of the Minotaur.”
“Oh, that’s a suitable name, then. He’s a brave boy. You’re a good, strong boy, aren’t you?” I rub the underside of Theo’s chin.
My smile is met with Aiden’s frown. “Actually, I named him that because Theseus is one of the few gods who survive hell.”
Taking in the dog’s missing teeth and ear, I suck in a deep breath realizing just how appropriate the name is. “You must like mythology.”
Aiden shrugs. “Beats fairy tales. You didn’t come here for a history lesson.”
Actually, I did.
Theo licks my face and makes a motion to jump on my lap. “Theo,” Aiden calls. Though he speaks calmly, there is a clear authority. The dog retreats, turning to his master and standing at attention. I do the same.
“It’s okay. I don’t mind.”
“It’s not okay for him to jump on you. Sometimes he thinks he’s a puppy. You can pet him, though. He likes it.” Aiden’s fingers curl more tightly around the neck of the bottle. “He likes you.” He mumbles the last bit.
“I’m glad he does.” I reach my hand out again. The area where his left ear should be is healed, but Theo jerks his head when I go near it. “Who did this to him?”
“It’s a cruel world, Emma Cooper.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“He was bait.”
“Bait?”
“A bait is a dog used to test the instincts of other dogs in a fighting ring. He was basically a bone for other dogs to chew on and spit out. That’s why he’s missing so many teeth.”
“Because of the fights?”
“It was done intentionally so he couldn’t bite back. That’s what good bait does. It waits to be attacked. Fighting back leads to a much worse fate then taking the hits.”
I rub Theo’s shiny coat, struggling to swallow the lump in my throat. “That’s disgusting.” I lean down so I’m level with Theo. Although he seems happy, his eyes hold traces of a deep sorrow. “I’m so sorry, boy.”
“Bait dogs rarely get out alive. Theo’s lucky.”
Luck is the last thing I’d associate with this dog. To prove me wrong, Theo’s tail wags cheerfully.
Beneath the sympathy, I feel an even deeper anger. My head snaps up. “Who would do something so vicious?” Of course, I don’t live under a rock. I know there is big money in dog fighting. But hearing about the evil people do for money versus seeing the results firsthand is the difference between feeling warm and getting burned.
“Like I said, it’s a cruel world.”
“You saved him.”
“He saved himself. I just helped him along. Dogs have strong souls.”
“How did you get into rescuing dogs?”
“After I got back from Afghanistan, I came here to adopt a dog from Mac. I never left.”
“You were a Marine, right?” He looks at me quizzically. “I overheard the reporter talking to you. Plus, there was your cadence.”
“Spying on me?”
“It was hard to miss.”
“My contract is over, but I am a Marine.”
“I need to thank you, then.”
“For what?”
“For protecting me and everyone I love.”
He lowers his head. “Welcome.”
“My dad was in the army.”
Just as I think we’re on friendly terms, Aiden shows his teeth again, his eyes narrowing on me. “We’ve done enough small talk, don’t you think?”
Wow, this is his idea of small talk? Pulling out screws with my toes would be more comfortable. “Sure. Look, I’m sorry to drop in on you.”
“How is your mama anyway? Is she here with you?”
Yes…no…maybe?
For some reason, I figured he would know about Mom’s death, or her illness, at least, but clearly he has no idea.
“She passed away about six months ago.”
The bottle in his hand sways as his composure cracks. The room goes quiet. He slumps in the seat across from me, his smug expression suddenly miserable. Theo walks toward him like he knows Aiden needs him. He’s quiet for a long time, absorbing the news. It’s obvious the information is devastating.
“I didn’t know, Emma. I’m sorry for your loss.”
“Thank you.”
“How?”
“Bone cancer.”
He drags a hand through his hair. “Was she in a lot of pain?” His voice cracks a bit at the last, and he stares at me hard, waiting for the answer. Gone is the tough asshole exterior. His is so vulnerable, I almost want to hug him. I do want to hug him.
I consider sweetening my answer, but there is not enough sugar in the universe to coat the nights of screaming agony or the long days where she couldn’t keep any food down. “A ton of pain. In the end, they got the medications right, but it took a while. She had a lot of bad reactions.”
His mouth tightens into a grim line. “I wish I’d known. I’m so sorry.”
“I considered trying to find you right after she died, but I was having trouble just making it through the days.”
“I understand.” He turns to me. “Were you with her the whole time?”
“There was a hospice nurse the last week, but I took care of her. Or at least I tried to.” I choke back the sobs threatening to escape.
“Is there anything I can do for you?”
“Actually yes. I didn’t come here just to tell you she passed.”
“Why are you here, then?”
“This is going to sound really strange, but my mother asked me to come. In her last few weeks, she’d go in and out of consciousness. Two days before she passed, she woke up in the middle of the night and called for me. I held her hand while she whispered her last request. She told me to find Aiden Sheffield and ask for his forgiveness on her behalf. She said you were her greatest regret. She wanted you to be present when I laid her ashes to rest at this river in Linx, Texas.” Actually, her exact words were that he should come with me, but I didn’t really feel comfortable with that idea right now.
“The Platico River.”
“Yes, that’s the one.”
“She used to take me fishing there. Sometimes we would swim or have a picnic. She was good at catching fish.”
Just one more thing for the growing list of stuff Emma doesn’t know about her mom. “My mom was from Texas?”
“She never told you?”
I shake my head. I mean, I would have remembered if she’d mentioned it, right? I’d never heard her talk of living anywhere else but Dunsmuir. It occurs to me I never found her birth certificate among all the other carefully maintained documents in the old filing cabinet. “No…I always thought she was born in California. In fact, I’m pretty sure she told me she was. I never suspected… She didn’t have an accent.”
He doesn’t exactly smile, but his lips turn up at the corners. “She never did.”
“I have to ask you a question that’s been freaking me out for a while now.”
“What?”
“Who are you?”
He looks at me as if he’s wondering if I’m joking. “You serious?”
“She didn’t tell me who you were. Obviously, you’re important to her, and she was important to you. But how did you know my mother?”
A sudden fear overwhelms me. What if he’s my brother? A love child she gave up? He doesn’t look anything like her. Mom fit the part of the California girl, with her blonde hair, blue eyes and petite build, even if it was a fraud. Aiden is tall, dark, and brooding. His features are almost exotic in a way, but you never know. Shit, did I just do a lusty leer on my own brother? Ugh.
“You have no idea?”
“No.”
“You didn’t ask her?”
“I never heard your name or heard of Linx before that night. She fell back to sleep after.” I shiver, recalling the amount of energy it must have taken Mom to even make two complete sentences. “I figured I’d get an opportunity later, but she was never coherent again. I thought you might be a figment of her imagination, but then I found your address on a piece of Mom’s stationary last night, so I came here to fulfill her wish.” As I say it aloud, it sounds even crazier than it did in my head.
His jaw tightens. “I see.”
“You do? That’s great. Can you fill me in? I don’t have a clue.”
“Your mom was married to my father. She was my stepmother.”
I try to digest the information, even though it sours my stomach. “I didn’t know she was married before…before my dad.” Imagining Mom married to a man who wasn’t Dad is impossible. How many secrets did she have? I’d think he’s lying to me, but he has no reason to. Still, the truth is a giant tornado swirling around me. My mom kept meticulous records, and she was a sentimental person. I’d spent the last six months combing through the entire house. Mom had practically chronicled my entire existence through photographs and report cards and annual check-ups, yet there was nothing to hint at a former marriage or a stepson.
I’m grateful for the dog. Petting him somehow calms me in the wake of these revelations. I didn’t even notice when Theo wandered back to me. Clearly, the animal has good instincts and deep empathy.
Aiden takes a beer from the fridge, uncaps it, and places it next to me. “Maybe you need something stronger.”
“Thanks.” I take a small swig. It’s too bitter for me, not that anything would taste good right now.
“It was a long time ago. You should ask your dad about the details.”
“I can’t. He passed away a few months before her.” I wonder if Dad even knew.
Aiden stares at me, his expression conflicted. “How?”
“He was a fireman. He died saving two kids from a burning building.”
“He sounds like a great man.”
“He was. The best kind of man. He died like he lived…heroically.”
“You’ve had a bad year.”
“The Grim Reaper is a greedy bitch.”
He clanks his beer bottle against mine. “That she is.”
Now he’s quiet, letting me process. There isn’t enough time in the world to process this. I want to make a U-turn in this one-way conversation. Why wouldn’t she tell me any of this herself?
Aiden stares at me with an expression between sympathy and caution. My voice is overly-enthusiastic. “So, I guess you’re the ex-stepbrother I never knew I had.”
“We’re strangers with a person in common. That’s all we are.” The frostiness in his voice sends chills down my spine. Whatever compassion he showed me was short-lived, except there is something in his cold gaze that makes me curious. He’s using cruelty as a tool to keep me distant. I make him uncomfortable on some level. Maybe I should let him sniff my hand…at least in a metaphorical sense.
“We may not be related, but we are connected through a very special person.” He doesn’t respond. Okay, enough sniffing. He doesn’t like me. I get it. “What was my mom apologizing to you for?”
He shrugs. “I’m not really sure.”
I almost laugh. A few hours ago, I was convinced I’d be visiting my mom’s former lover. Now I relax, reassured Mom’s greatest love was Dad. But then I wonder about Aiden’s father. What kind of man was he? Why would she keep this part of her past a secret?
We were as close as a mother and daughter could be, best friends, almost, except when she had to put her foot down, which she did a lot. When I think of the times I laughed the loudest and felt the happiest, those memories always include Mom.
“I’ve come a long way to ask you this question.”
He tips the bottle back and drains it empty. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, all the while avoiding eye contact with me. “My own mom died when she was giving birth to me. Angela practically raised me until I was six. When she left, she never turned back. She didn’t just leave my father. She left me, too. She never kept in touch. That’s the only reason I can think of. But she doesn’t need my forgiveness. I’m a grown man, and her leaving is a distant memory, at best.”
“Why did she leave?”
“She was young when she married. She hated Linx. It’s a small town with small people. She wanted a bigger life.”
I don’t care for his explanation. It makes Mom out to be a fickle girl, not the compassionate, caring woman I love.
“That doesn’t sound like her.”
“People change. You said she was pretty out of it when she told you this last wish of hers? On a lot of drugs?”
“Definitely.”
“Then I’m positive that whole deal was the pain talking. No way Angela wanted to go back to Linx, ashes or not.”
“She did. There were a lot of things she said that made no sense, but this wasn’t one of them.”
“You gonna travel there all by yourself?”
“That’s the plan. I should be in Linx in just a few days. You can meet me there. We can spread her ashes together.”
He narrows his eyes. “I’d rather go to hell than Linx. If you’re smart, you’ll turn around and go home.”
What home?
“Um…thanks for the creepy warning, but I didn’t ask for your advice.”
“You don’t have to ask. I’m offering it free of charge.”
I resist the urge to argue with him. I crave more information, and alienating him further won’t help my cause. “Was it a bad marriage?”
“It wasn’t great, obviously. I honestly don’t remember too much about them together. I missed her when she left, but I got over it quick.”
“What about your father?”
“He got over it, too.”
“May I have his address? I’d like to talk to him.”
He heads to the fridge and swings open the door. “He died. Heart attack, two years ago.”
There are many dead between us.
“Do you have any siblings? Uncles, aunts, cousins? Maybe someone I can talk to down in Linx? I’d like to find out more about my mom’s past.” I almost said my mom’s past life, but I stopped myself. Struggling to take it all in, I realize I’ve always imagined Mom’s life started when I was born. Not literally, of course, but there was always that presumption that none of the important stuff happened until I arrived. How stupid of me.
Although his back is to me, his head inside the fridge, I see Aiden’s stance go rigid at my question. “None of the above. I’m an only child. No other family.”
“Me, too. We have a lot in common. Dad was a foster kid. Mom didn’t have any siblings, and her parents passed away when she was young. Oh, but I suppose you knew that about her.”
“Yeah.”
What the hell is he doing with his head stuck in the fridge? There can’t be that much stuff in there. “I guess we’re both orphans. We’re alone in the world.”
He takes a deep breath before he slams the fridge door. He uncaps another beer. “We have nothing in common, Emma. I don’t go around calling myself an orphan, for one. I’m a grown man.” Although his voice is calm, I flinch at the quiet rage coloring his tone.
He’s blessed with incredible good looks, but the gods must have shorted him when it comes to compassion, at least in relation to other humans. He’s wonderful with dogs. I bite my lower lip to keep it from trembling.
He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Look, I’m not trying to act like an ass.”
“I didn’t think it was an act at all. I can tell it comes naturally for you.”
He lifts his head, his jaw dropping slightly. “You got a smart mouth. It’s gonna get you in trouble one day.”
“I can take care of myself.”
“Famous last words.”
I stand, my legs feeling rubbery, but I will not give him the satisfaction of witnessing my weakness. “I don’t know about that, but they are the last words you’ll hear from me. I’m going now. Sorry to bother you.” Out of habit, I almost say how nice it was to have met him, but why lie?
He follows me out and holds the door for me in some strange gesture toward civility.
“That truck has seen better days,” he says, eyeing it suspiciously. Great, now he’s insulting my ride.
“It’s still got some good days left.”
I bend next to the truck to pet Theo. “Good-bye, handsome.” For some reason, I send a silent message, asking the animal to take care of his master.
“You’re not scared of him.” It’s an observation, not a question.
I stand and brush my yoga pants with sweaty hands.
“Why would I be?”
Aiden shrugs. “Just most folks are scared when they first meet him, because of his size and breed.”
I’m not sure how to describe the instinct I have about this dog, but there’s nothing that frightens me about Theo. “He’s big, but he’s got a gentle heart. Anyone can see that if they bothered to look.”
“Most people don’t bother.” He stares at me as if he expects me to say something more, or maybe because he wants to. The silence grows uncomfortable.
“Well, I should get going. I have a lot of miles to cover.”
“Yeah, you do. Take care of yourself.”
He opens the driver’s side door. It takes a second for me to realize he’s opening it for me. I don’t know what to make of Aiden or all the shocking things about Mom I’ve just learned. It’s almost too much. The first thing I’m going to do when I leave here is pull into the nearest parking lot and have a good cry, followed by a long talk with the urn.
I hoist myself into the driver’s seat. He shuts the door and steps back. “Good-bye, Emma Cooper.”
“Take care, Aiden Sheffield.”
I crank the engine. The truck doesn’t turn over.
It stalls.
No, no, no, no—come on baby. Don’t do this to me now, especially with him staring at me. I try to turn it again. Nada.
“You’re going to flood it,” he says, on my third attempt. He leans into the open driver’s side window.
“It’ll start. It’s just picky.”
“Picky? It’s about thirty-thousand miles past picky and into downright ornery territory. Pop the hood.” I do as he asks.
Instead of going toward the hood as I expect, he takes a slow walk around the vehicle. From the rearview mirror, I watch as he surveys every rust stain and crack that mars the exterior. He pauses at the truck bed.
Don’t lift the tarp. Don’t lift the tarp. Don’t lift the tarp.
He lifts the tarp.
He looks at the contents for a while before he comes around to the passenger side.
“What’s the deal with all the stuff back there?”
My grip on the steering wheel is so tight I might just leave an indent. “It’s my stuff.”
“Well, I didn’t think you stole it. Why the hell are you driving around with it?”
Sucking in a deep breath, I curse the old truck for letting me down when I need her most. “I had to move out.”
“Didn’t your parents leave you any money?”
Although I don’t care for the question, it sounds more sympathetic than judgmental. I would tell him it’s none of his business, as he did to me earlier, but at the same time, I don’t want him to think less of my parents. “They did. They both had insurance, too, but Mom had a lot of medical bills. Plus, they took out a second mortgage to pay for my college. I had to pay all that off.”
He’s quiet for a moment. “So you’re just caravanning your stuff across the country like a nomad?”
I wish I could mentally make the car start. “I’m moving in with my boyfriend, Kenneth.”
“Oh yeah? Where does Kenny live?”
“Kenneth. He prefers Kenneth, and he lives In Los Angeles.”
“Correct me if I’m wrong, but didn’t you just come from California?”
“We’re going to find a place together when I get back. He has three roommates right now. There’s no room for all of my things.” Sometimes I question if Kenneth has room for me.
Aiden shakes his head before making his way to the hood. Judgmental jerk.
“What?” I demand.
“Nothing. Just can’t believe you’re going to drive around like this.”
I couldn’t, either. Kenneth was supposed to find us a place before I went on this trip, but it didn’t happen. I have only so much money set aside for the journey, and a few months’ rent, which won’t go very far in L.A. Still, I suppose a storage unit would have been wise. Not that anyone would be interested in stealing a few photo albums, Mom’s paperbacks, and Dad’s old records. The truth is I can’t entrust the stuff to anyone else. It’s all I have left of them…of me. I dislike Aiden for shedding a spotlight on my stupidity.
He finally lifts the hood. “Turn on the ignition.”
The car rasps as if it is choking and then it goes dead. He tinkers around for a few minutes before telling me to switch it off.
“How often does this happen?” he asks.
“Not often.”
“But it happens?”
“Yes. I had someone look at it. He said it would work fine for the trip to Texas and back.”
Aiden comes around to the driver’s side. He gestures to the napkins on the dashboard. I hand him one and he wipes the grease off his long fingers. “Turn on the lights and the radio.”
The radio’s fine, but the lights glow briefly before dimming. Aiden’s mouth curves into a smile as Sam Cooke’s “Sad Mood” spills forth from the speakers. Yeah, play it again Sam.
“I don’t think there is anything wrong with my battery,” I offer with fake confidence.
“Affirmative—definitely not the battery.”
Suddenly, the radio turns off and on again. Sam does play it again…over and over.
“Maybe it’s haunted,” I suggest.
“That explains it.”
“Really?”
“Hell, no. Your alternator’s shot.” He kicks the driver’s side tire. “You can use a new set of tires, too. These are so bald a sharp blade of grass might pop one. I’m surprised the mechanic didn’t catch all this.”
I never said it was a mechanic, but I don’t correct him. Kenneth checked out the car when he came for a visit last week, and declared her good to go. I really don’t want any more of Aiden’s judgment, so I keep quiet and get out of the car to check out the tires for myself. He’s right. If I hadn’t been so distracted with everything, I would have noticed their lack of tread. There’s nothing I can do about the tires right now, but the alternator needs my immediate attention.
“Will you jump me? She’ll start up with a good jump.”
His smile is slightly sinister. I feel a low heat creeping in my belly when I replay what I just said.
“I can jump you, but it’s only a short-term solution. It won’t satisfy the long-term problem.”
“Where’s the closest mechanic?”
“It’s Sunday. No one’s open.”
“No one at all?”
He shakes his head. “Butte Falls is a small town. Shops close early, and they’re closed all day on Sunday.” Aiden leans against the truck. “Why don’t you stay over? Tomorrow, I’ll run to the parts store, fetch you a new alternator, and install it myself. I’m no mechanic, but I understand cars.”
“I can’t impose. Just jump me and I’ll figure it out farther down the road.”
I bite the inside of my cheek. Why do I keep begging him to jump me? What the hell is wrong with me?
He doesn’t smirk this time. Instead, he kicks a few pebbles.
“Even though I come off like an ass, I did care for your mom. I can’t let her daughter leave on a long trip in a vehicle that’s not roadworthy. It’s dangerous. Let me fix this for you. I want to.”
I can tell it’s difficult for him to say this—that kindness is easy when it extends to animals, where the gestures aren’t complicated with double-meanings and assumptions.
“Thank you, Aiden.”
He moves his head down in the slightest nod. “Welcome.”
“I’ll pay you for your time and the parts.”
“Don’t worry about it. It’s not a big deal.”
“It is. I insist.”
“Whatever helps you sleep at night.”
I want to tell him I’m touched by his offer, but it would make things more uncomfortable. Instead, I hand him my duffle bag, then I undo the seat belt and take the brass urn from the passenger seat.
His eyes fix on the urn. “Is that…?”
“Yes.”
He reaches for it.
“I can carry it,” I say, wrapping my arms around it possessively.
His smile is sad. “You’ve been carrying it for a long time, Emma. Let someone else carry it for a while.”
A surge of emotion envelops me as he takes the urn. I fight the urge to snatch it back, but I also feel lighter. He handles it carefully, tucking it close to his chest with my duffle bag slung across his shoulder.
Okay, Aiden, you carry it for a while. It’s gotten too heavy for me.