“Tell me about it. We’re in the middle of building this new app, and I’m the forefront of it all. I have half a mind to just pick up and leave. Teach him a lesson.”
A part of me wants to encourage him to do so, but I know that would be the irresponsible thing to do. Trey is a hard worker and takes his job seriously, so he would never jeopardize it because he was unhappy.
“Hopefully it won’t be too much longer. Have you heard back from those other companies?”
“Not yet. Jake was telling me about some freelance work I might be able to do if I start to get really antsy. I’m still holding out for a solid job offer though. I would love to be up there with you, but I also want to be smart about this move and not jump into freelance where I wouldn’t have insurance or a 401(k).”
“Yeah, I can totally understand that. We’ll just have to wait it out some more, that’s all.”
“I promise I’ll make it happen, Amelia. Just need more time.”
“I know you will.” I pull onto my street and slow down, knowing I’ve already been yelled at for driving too fast. “I’m pulling into my driveway. Can I call you back in a bit once I get settled?”
“Yeah. FaceTime, right?”
“I would love to. Keep your shirt off.”
“Only if you do.” My heart flutters from the way his voice dropped.
“You’ve got yourself a deal.
“See you in a few.”
“Wait,” I call out. “Quick question. What do you prefer more, side boob or nipple?”
Chuckling, Trey asks, “What kind of question is that? Nipple, Amelia. Nipple all the way. Honestly, do I ever suck on your side boob? No, I bite and suck the fuck out of your sweet nipples.”
And my stomach just bottomed out. Swallowing hard, I clear my throat and say, “Okay, yup. See you in a bit. Love you.”
His laughter carries through the phone as I hang up. Damn him for turning me on.
Thoughts of Trey worshipping my body flutter through my mind, causing a light sheen of sweat to coat my skin, but when Aaron’s truck parks next to mine, I’m snapped out of my Trey-induced fog and brought back to reality. Instead of being in Trey’s arms tonight, I’ve been bumping shoulders with Aaron Walters.
Tonight has been different, though. Aaron and I joked, we built, and we even worked well together in silence. We didn’t talk about the past or anything worth substance; we kept it breezy, easy, and fun. Mr. Buster was impressed with the amount of work we were able to crank out by the end of the night, calling us the dream team, which only made me chuckle. If only he knew our history, he wouldn’t think dream team.
Feeling a little lonely, especially after my conversation with Trey, I hop out of my car, swing my purse over my shoulder, and walk over to Aaron’s side of the conjoined driveway. When he pops out of his truck, I say, “Did you have your high beams on that entire time?”
“I thought about it but spared you.” He shuts his door and locks up. “If I didn’t come straight from work, I would have carpooled with you. Seems silly to both drive.”
“Yeah, kind of a waste of gas and pollution.” I should head into my house, but my body won’t move. Instead my mouth starts asking questions. “So you’re in construction now?”
He nods and leans against his truck. “I am. My buddies and I have our own business. We’re building one of the new developments in Vestal.” He scratches his chin and chuckles to himself. “Long way from sanitation disposal, huh?”
“What you did for a living never bothered me, Aaron.” And that’s the God’s honest truth. I never cared about his occupation. He treated me with love, a kind heart, and was passionate. Until . . . “But I’m happy you’re doing something you seem to love.”
“I do. Working with Tucker and Racer has been a dream come true. We always talked about owning our own company, but we never thought it would actually happen. Still can’t believe it.”
“Where did you meet them?”
Smiling in the moonlit night, Aaron shakes his head in humor. “God, through pure drunken idiocy.”
That surprises me. Aaron was never one to get drunk. Did he start drinking after we broke up? I can only remember one time he was completely wasted, and it wasn’t the fun kind of drunk I was used to with Amanda. It was the kind of drunk that only transpired from trying to hide from some kind of demons. Demons he never shared with me.
Aaron pushes off his truck and rounds the back where he puts down the tailgate and sits. He pats next to him, and without even thinking, I sit beside him.
“You really want to know the story?”
“Should I be scared?”
“Maybe a little.” He chuckles.
I turn toward him and cross my legs. He turns as well, keeping one leg hanging off the tailgate while the other is bent in front of him. He leans against the side of the truck and drapes one arm back. He seems so casual, so comfortable.
“Lay it on me.”
He rubs his jaw for a second before saying, “It was right after, uh, we broke up.” Okay, maybe I don’t want to hear. “I wasn’t in a good place, so I went to House of Reardon to get lost in a bottle. When I walked into the bar, it was empty except for two other guys. One of them was at the bar, his head turned down and a tumbler in his hand. The other one was sitting in a booth, nursing a beer with his head leaning against the wall. I sat at the bar, far away from everyone and started drinking, heavily.”
My throat tightens from the thought of Aaron drinking alone and heavily. I’ve seen him angry, upset beyond consoling, so I can only imagine his state of mind at the time.
“After about six shots of whiskey, I was having a hard time standing, let alone seeing a few feet in front of me, so being the intelligently intoxicated man, I decided to start playing darts, of course.”
“Oh my God. No, you didn’t.”
He nods, lips pressed together. “I did. Using my chair as a walker—”
“Come on.” I laugh. “This isn’t true.”
He leans forward, presses his hand on my knee, warming me instantly. “I fucking wish it wasn’t true, but it is.”
Trying to tamp down the butterflies in my stomach, I say, “You used a chair as a walker?”
“Mm-hmm. Which of course caught the attention of the two men in the bar.”
“Let me guess, they were Tucker and Racer.”
“Yup. I made it to the dartboard, but realized there were no darts. When I turned to the bartender to ask for some, he didn’t even let me ask. He cleaned a cup and shook his head saying I was too damn drunk to have access to any darts.”
“Smart man.”
“Yeah well, Racer didn’t think he was. He stood from the booth and protested, saying something about how I was easily able to use my walker to get to the dartboard without crashing, so clearly I wasn’t that drunk.”