The betrayal that had pierced through me in that moment stabbed me again, fresh and painful. Tears pooled in my eyes as I relived the incident when I was eighteen that ruined what was left of the fractured bond I’d shared with them. Even my knee ached a little at the memory.
Those large fingers eased their grip on my hand just slightly, and in a smaller voice than he usually used, he asked, “She’s your real sister?”
Real sister. I’d mentioned my foster parents, hadn’t I? “Yes.” I messed with my glasses. “We’ve never gotten along. She’s about as far from what a sister should be as you can get.”
“How many do you have?”
“Three.”
“You’re the youngest?”
“Youngest girl.”
“They were there?”
“Yes.”
“And none of them did anything? Said anything?”
Why did I feel so ashamed? My eyes started to sting, and that made me force my gaze upward. I wasn’t going to feel bad. I wasn’t going to hide. “No.”
His gaze switched from one of my eyes to the other. “They live in El Paso?”
“I think.”
His nostrils flared and he gently let go of my hand, my skin immediately missing the warm touch of his fingers. “Okay.” He took a step back and turned his head over his shoulder. “Zac!”
What the hell? “What are you doing?”
He didn’t look at me before yelling Zac’s name again. “I need to borrow his car. If I fly, there will be proof I was there.”
Holy shit.
“You—?” I choked. “You—?” I coughed that time, floundering. “What the hell are you planning on doing?”
“You kneeing him isn’t doing it for me.” Aiden didn’t even grace me with a glance as he made his way toward my door. “Zac!”
Yeah, those tears pooling in my eyes decided screw it. They went for it. One, two, and three. “You’ve lost your mind, big guy.”
“No. That asshole lost his mind. Your family lost their mind. I know what I’m doing.”
This psycho was going to try and beat someone up, wasn’t he? Holy shit. “You’d do that for me?”
Crap, my expectations were low if that made me teary.
The big guy stopped in front of the door and spun on his heel with a lot more grace than a man that large should be capable of. He blinked, piercing me with a glare. “We’re partners. We’re a team. You said it.”
I nodded dumbly, earning me that ‘you’re an idiot’ look from him. His eyebrows went up just a little, his head just slightly forward enough to be confrontational. “If someone messes with you, they’re going to mess with me, Van. I don’t want to hurt your feelings. I might not be good with this friend crap, but I’m not about to let somebody get away with hurting you. Ever. Do you understand me?”
My heart. My poor, weak pathetic heart.
I swallowed and tried to nod away the clump of emotions plugging up every vein in my body. As much as I would love Aiden to go kick Susie’s husband’s ass… “The guard would see you driving his car, and there’s a camera at the gate.”
Aiden tilted his head and pinned me with another look that might have been a surprised one. “You’ve put some thought into this,” he said slowly.
“Of course I have.” He didn’t need to know I’d been plotting his murder then. “That’s why I know we have to wait.”
“We?”
“Yeah. I’m not going to let you go beat him up alone. I’d like to get a couple stomps in too.” I raised my eyebrows and smiled faintly, letting the tension slide off my shoulders. “I’m joking.” Sort of. “It doesn’t matter. I’ll probably never see him again, and even if I do, their lives suck. Mine doesn’t. That’s enough vengeance for me. Trust me.”
Well, at least most of the time it was enough.
“Vanessa…” He trailed off with a frown.
The next three sentences we shared between the two of us were going to be the last thing I thought about when I went to bed later that night.
“You’ve been with me for two years, but I figure I’m barely beginning to understand,” the big guy claimed, his expression solemn.
“Understand what?”
“I should probably be scared of you.”
Chapter Seventeen
My eyes were crossing from staring at stock images for so long when my phone beeped with a text message. Sliding my glasses up over my forehead into my hair, I yawned and picked up my smartphone.
Text Message
Miranda P.
Curious—more than curious because this was the first time I’d ever gotten a text from him—I pulled up the message and read it. Then I read it again. And again. And then I just stared blankly at my desktop computer screen.
They had found out.
Before I could panic, I made myself stretch my fingers wide and take a calming breath. You already knew this was bound to happen. At least that’s what I told myself.
The more I thought about it, the more I should have been appreciative that the people at the chapel in Las Vegas hadn’t recognized him. Or that people on the street had been oblivious and hadn’t seen us going in and out of there. Or that the receptionist at the acupuncturist hadn’t snapped a picture on her phone and posted it online.
Because I might not understand all people, much less most of them, but I understood nosey folks. And nosey folks would do something like that without a second thought. Yet, I reminded myself that there was nothing to be embarrassed about.
It would be fine. So, one gossip site posted about us getting married. Whoop-de-do. There was probably a thousand sites just like it.
I briefly thought about Diana hearing about it, but I’d deal with that later. There was no use in getting scared now. She was the only one whose reaction I cared about. My mom and sisters’ opinions and feelings weren’t exactly registering at the top of my list now… or ever. I made myself shove them to the back of my thoughts. I was tired of being mad and upset; it affected my work. Plus, they’d made me sad and mad enough times in my life. I wasn’t going to let them ruin another day.
Picking my phone up again, I quickly texted Aiden back, swallowing my nausea at the same time.
Me: Who told you?
Not even two minutes passed before my phone dinged with a response.
Miranda: Trevor’s blowing up my phone.
Eww. Trevor.
Me: We knew it was going to happen eventually, right? Good luck with Trev. I’m glad he doesn’t have my number.
And I was even gladder there wasn’t a home phone; otherwise, I’m positive he would have been blowing it up too.
I managed to get back to looking at images on the screen for a few more minutes—a bit more distracted than usual—when the phone beeped again.
It was Aiden/Miranda. I should really change his contact name.
Miranda: Good luck? I’m not answering his calls.
What?
Me: That psycho will come visit if you don’t.
Was that me being selfish? Yes. Did I care? No.
Aiden: I know.
Uh.
Me: You’re always at practice…
Aiden: Have fun.
This asshole! I almost laughed, but before I could, he sent me another message.
Aiden: I’ll get back to him in a couple days. Don’t worry.
Snorting, I texted back.
Me: I’m not worried. If he drops by, I’ll set him up in your room.
Aiden: You genuinely scare me.
Me: You don’t know how many times you barely made it through the day alive, for the record.
He didn’t text me back after that.
* * *
I was in the middle of eating lunch the next day when my phone beeped. So far, I hadn’t gotten any threatening calls or texts from Diana, but I was still a little scared to look at the screen. I actually hadn’t heard from her at all since I’d left her house. That wasn’t unusual, but it still left me feeling a little anxious and a little mad. Luckily, it was Aiden’s name that popped onto the display. I had finally gotten around to changing his contact information.
Aiden: Are you free this Sunday?
I was never free on any day, technically, but his question made me pause.
Me: It depends. Why?
Aiden: Come to my game.
Uh. Was I imagining this? Was he really inviting me to one of his games for the first time in the history of the universe?
Me: I’ve gone to a few of your games.
Aiden: You’ve met me after a game five times.
He remembered that?
Me: I met you after a game five times, but I’ve gone to more than those, thank you.