He opened his mouth and then closed it. “I don’t know…” His lips moved but nothing came out. “He doesn’t…“
“I know. I know he doesn’t.”
“What the hell took him so long? I told him a week ago,” he suddenly noted in exasperation.
Good gracious. He was making faces because Aiden had taken too long. Uh. “Because when I went to the Thanksgiving Day game, Christian called me honey or something, and was just being a creeper in general—wait. It doesn’t matter. Why did you say anything to him anyway? I told you that as friends. Circle of trust.”
Zac huffed and gave me a look that resembled one of Aiden’s a little too closely. “Why wouldn’t I tell him?”
“Because it didn’t matter.”
Yeah, he was definitely giving me one of Aiden’s faces. “If I was the one you were married to, I’d want him to tell me.”
“Traitor.” That made sense, but I wasn’t going to admit it.
The blond snorted. “Van, think about it for a second. Aiden’s not—he’s not going to give you a hug, tell you you’re pretty, and call you his best friend, but I know him, and he cares about you.”
Now he does, I thought. “If I die, he can’t get his papers fixed so easily.”
His blue eyes narrowed and he gestured toward the front door. “If you die, who else would he have that gives a shit about him?”
What was that supposed to mean?
“C’mon. Let’s go inside. I’m starvin’,” he finished up.
I took one more peek at the bright blue lights and followed him in. We had barely opened the door when the persistent beeping of Aiden’s ringtone started going off from somewhere in the kitchen. I ignored it and headed toward the fridge, pulling out leftovers from the day before.
“What do you have?” Zac asked, peeking over my shoulder as I scooped food onto a plate.
“Pasta.” I just handed it over. There wasn’t a point in asking him if he wanted it. Of course he’d want it.
“Yum,” he said, without even tasting it.
Aiden’s phone began to ring again just as I set my plate into the microwave to warm up. By the time it was done, the phone had stopped ringing and started up all over again. I sat down to eat, and it started beeping. Again.
“Who the hell is calling him?” Zac asked as he stood in front of the microwave watching his food heat up.
Leaning to the side, I dragged Aiden’s phone over and glanced at the screen. TREVOR MCMANN flashed across the screen. Ugh.
“Trevor,” I said.
Zac made an impolite noise. “I bet he’s callin’ about today.”
I winced. He was probably right. “Have you talked to him?”
“I talked to him on Thanksgivin’. I figured if he started talkin’ a whole buncha nonsense, I could pass the phone over to my mama,” he admitted with a laugh.
The phone started ringing one more time. Good gracious. I picked up his phone and hesitated. This was my fault. Wasn’t it? “I’m going to answer. Should I answer?”
“Take one for Team Graves.”
Damn it. I answered. “Hello?”
“Aiden what the—?”
“This is Vanessa.” I made a face at Zac mouthing, ‘Why did I do this?’
“Put Aiden on the phone,” he demanded without any pretense.
“Ah, I don’t think so,” I said quickly.
“What do you mean you don’t think so? Put him on the goddamn phone.”
“How about you hold your horses. He’s napping. I’m not going to go wake him up, buddy. If you have a message, pass it along. If you don’t have a message, I’ll make sure to tell him you called.” Either way, I wasn’t going to tell Aiden shit. Trevor just didn’t need to know that.
“Goddammit, Vanessa. I need to talk to him.”
“And he needs his sleep.”
Trevor made a noise that was more than a huff and less than what? A growl. I could tell how pissed off he was right then, how important he felt the conversation he wanted to have with Aiden seemed to be. The thing was, I didn’t care. “You and I haven’t had a chance to chat lately, but don’t think I’ve forgotten about you. This shit today is your fault. I know it is.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, and I’m pretty sure Aiden pays you to support him, not call and nag. I know I sure as hell don’t want to listen to you right now. So, I’ll make sure to let him know you called.”
“Vanessa!” the son of an asshole had the nerve to shout.
“Yell at me again, and I’m going to make sure you regret it, do you hear me? I think you have enough to worry about without adding me to your list,” I growled into the phone, getting more pissed by the second. “And calm your asshole talking to Aiden too while you’re at it. I don’t appreciate you treating him like a little kid.”
“You’re a pain in—”
I pulled the phone away from my face and with my other hand gave the phone my middle finger. Putting it back against my face, I said, “Your ass, I know. I’ll let him know you called, but I’m just letting you know you should calm down before you talk to him.”
“He got into it with Christian because of you, didn’t he?”
“If you knew anything about him, you’d know he doesn’t do anything without a reason, so think about that.”
Trevor made a noise over the line that I quickly ignored.
“I’ll let him know you called. Bye.”
Yeah, I might have shoved my finger against the screen again a lot more aggressively than what was really necessary, but it felt like I needed to since I didn’t have a phone to slam into its cradle.
“He’s such a fucking asshole—” I started to say as I looked up, only to find Zac with a hand over his eyes.
I felt it right then.
Slowly turning on my stool, I found Aiden standing just inside the kitchen with his eyebrows raised.
“I hate him.” I held his phone out toward him. “And you should probably turn off your phone before he calls again.”
* * *
I was in my room hours later, when Zac slipped in through the door, his eyes bright, his expression that little-boy one that put me in a good mood. “Guess what?”
I paused the show I was watching and raised my eyebrows, sitting up straight on the mattress. “I don’t know. What?”
“I found it,” he said even as he skid across the floor in his pajamas, his cell phone clutched in his hand.
That had me perking up. “What did you find?”
Zac sat on the edge of my bed right next to me. His back was to the headboard as he held the screen between the small space between us. “Look.”
I did just that.
Maximized on the screen was an image of two men in Three Hundreds practice jerseys without pads. I didn’t have to look at the number on the bigger man’s shirt to know it was Aiden; I knew that body. I knew that body like the back of my hand. Plus, his helmet was off and hanging off the fingers of his right hand. I had to think for a moment about the guy standing a few feet away from him though. Number eighty-eight. Christian.
They were the only people on camera. With about five feet separating them, they were both facing the field where one could only assume was the rest of the team. There wasn’t any sound unfortunately.
On the screen, Christian happened to turn just as Aiden’s hands went to his hips, his body language deceptively casual if it wasn’t for the set to his shoulders.
It only took a few moments before Christian threw his arms out to the sides and took two steps toward the man I was married to. His stance became confrontational even before he pulled his helmet off and threw it, his feet taking him the two other steps between him and Aiden.
The big guy stood tall, his hands minutely flexing at his hips. Maybe no one else would notice the movement but I did. Christian’s face was visible on the screen, his cheeks turned red, his mouth getting wider as one could only assume he was yelling.
And then it happened.
Christian’s fist flew forward and Aiden’s head jerked back just slightly. The big guy took a step backward as his hands fell to his sides.