“Pssst . . .”
Off to the side, Aaron stands beside his truck, motioning for me to come to him. Caught off guard, slightly frightened and mostly confused, I tiptoe over to him and lean to where he’s squatting. “What the hell is going on? Are they really getting eggs?”
“They are.” He nods and looks over his hood.
“Why the hell would you suggest that if you knew they were going to get eggs?” I push his shoulder, causing him to laugh. “What is wrong with you?”
“It was the only way to get them out of here. They were closing in on you, Amelia. You didn’t have much time left before they started poking you with their canes. They take Halloween seriously.”
“Seems like it.” I scratch my head “Note to self, look at all flyers.”
“Might be a good idea.” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out his keys. “Come on, let’s go.”
“Go where?”
“Uh, to get you decorations. You really don’t get it, do you? They will harass you until you move out of that house if you don’t decorate. They can be ruthless. I know because I’ve seen them do it before. We’re the holiday street; we decorate almost every month for every occasion.”
“You have to be kidding me.”
“Nope.” He shakes his head. “Now get in the truck. I’ll take you to a good friend’s place. He’ll give us some decorations wholesale to get you started.”
I stand, still unable to believe all of this. “You’re serious.”
“Dead serious.” He nods at his truck. “Now get in before they come back with the eggs.”
I eye my purse that’s resting on his truck and bite my lip. Aaron laughs and pats me on the shoulder. “I’ll get your things, you get in the truck. You’ll be safe in there.”
He takes off to grab my things as I launch myself into his giant truck. I know I might be safe from the neighbors, but I almost feel worse once I’m sitting in his truck. Just like he always used to do, he reached out and rescued me. Brought me under his wing. I might add, never from geriatrics. And yet, here I am. I feel safe. And God, he smells so damn good. Surely other men use the same cologne as Aaron, but being surrounded by his delicious scent brings back memory after memory. Vividly. Being held close in his arms. Kisses goodnight. Kisses hello. Just kissing. And he was so good to kiss . . . My stomach feels weird all of a sudden.
And then I realize the problem. No matter how much I want to deny what I might be feeling, deep down, I still have feelings for Aaron.
I never got over him.
I don’t think I ever will.
Chapter Eight
AARON
“Grab the machete from the back of my truck.”
“Excuse me?” Amelia asks, stopping her exit from my truck. She looks around and says, “You take me to an empty cornfield and ask me to grab the machete from your truck with only darkness surrounding us? Do you realize it looks like you’re about to decapitate me and feed my brains to your old person zombie crew back home?”
Old person zombie crew? Oh Fuck. I laugh . . . hard, my hand gripping my steering wheel.
“It’s not funny.” She smacks my arm. “I don’t know you anymore, and for all I know, you could be plotting out my death.”
I shake my head, still chuckling. “Amelia, if I were plotting your death, why the hell would I ask you to get the machete? Wouldn’t I grab it myself?”
She pauses for a second. “Huh, I guess that’s a good point.” She hops out of the truck and says, “I’m getting out now so you can’t switch things up and try to murder me instead of whatever else you had planned.”
“Jesus,” I mutter, still chuckling. I flip my headlights onto high, lighting the entire dried-out field of corn my friend hasn’t chopped down yet.
We spent the last hour sifting through the slim pickings of Halloween decorations my friend had left, trying to come up with some sort of game plan for decorating the house. We settled for a Spider’s Kingdom feel—idea courtesy of yours truly—and bought all the spiders and fake webbing we could grab. Honestly, I’m kind of excited about it, because her house is going to look pretty badass.
When I hop out of my truck, I see Amelia hanging over the side of the bed, digging around, her feet dangling and a soft mumbling coming from under her breath.
“Need help?”
She lifts up. “Oh no, I’m faring well over here in the dark, hanging over your monstrous truck looking for a damn machete.”
“Okay, I’ll grab the twine then.”
She hops down and stops me with a hand to my chest. The minute she makes the connection, even though it’s dark, I can see the surprise in her eyes. I’m a much bigger man, a different man than she once knew, and she’s feeling it right about now. Yup, that’s what a few years of self-hatred will do to you—nothing better to do than work out.
She quickly steps away and clears her throat. “You can grab the machete. I’ll just wait here, keep a look out, you know for any egg throwers who might have followed us.”
“They’re tucked in bed right now, one of the reasons I got us the hell out of there when I did. I knew their bedtime was looming.” I wink and reach into the back of my truck, making sure to grab the machete on the correct end. The twine was a little harder to find in the dark, but once I located it, I nodded for Amelia to follow me.
“Can you explain what we’re doing here? I’m getting a little nervous.”
“I’d never let anything happen to you, you should know that by now.” Not physically anyway. I take a deep breath. I want to move on. Trying to put her at ease, I continue, “We’re getting some dried-up corn husks for you. Your house has some great pillars and spots for corn husks. We can even wrap some around the oak tree in the front yard.”
Studying me for a second, a tilt to her head, an interesting look in her eyes, she says, “You’ve thought about this.”
I shrug my shoulders, feeling a little embarrassed. “I like decorating for the holidays.”
“Why?”
Funny thing about my two-year relationship with Amelia, I never really went into detail about my family life. She met my mom a few times, but it was always in public places. Holidays were spent with Amelia’s family because I was too nervous she’d learn things I didn’t want her to know if she spent too much time with my mom.
How can I possibly explain my childhood? I’ve gained strength to love my mom, but I’m not sure it ever eclipsed the desire to lead a different life, a life like my brothers. A life traveling around the world, experiencing new foods, new places, being able to fly on an airplane, being able to rely on my parents rather than wishing they were someone else.