The not knowing his condition is what’s making me crazy. How could Aden not let me know how he’s doing? I was the one who found him passed out for fuck’s sakes. The madder I get, the tighter my grip is on the gate. I deserve to know what’s going on! And fuck him for thinking I’d just walk away when he’s done with me.
I shove off from my snooping and plop on a bench that’s shrouded in shadows to wait for someone to open the gate. I’ll storm in and demand answers if that’s what I have to do.
My muscles quake, and even though it’s chillier tonight than the last few nights, I don’t think it’s from the cold. Jenkins could be dead. His last hour on this earth could’ve been spent in my arms and Aden didn’t even give me the courtesy of a phone call!
Time passes and as the temperature drops the heat of my anger increases. I cross my arms over my chest, my foot tapping frantically against the concrete. Every time someone passes matching Aden’s description I glare until my temples throb, sending even the manliest men to the far side of the sidewalk. Couples hand in hand, people walking their dogs, the occasional jogger, all of them pass and still no Aden.
It’s after one in the morning, my butt is numb from sitting, and I’m contemplating the possibility that he may not show up tonight. Where else could he be? I shove away thoughts of him with another woman when the door to a nearby bar swings open. Music pours out along with a man and a woman. She’s talking fast but I’m too far away to hear exactly what she’s saying. A drunken lover’s quarrel? Hidden in the dark I watch as she pleads with the man for something and when he finally gives in she ducks under his arm and they head toward me.
As they get closer there’s something familiar about the man, the way he holds his shoulders and his gait that stiffens my spine.
Then I hear him mumbling. It’s deep and dark, a voice I’ve come to know all too well.
“I told you I’m fine, Syd.” He releases the girl and she seems disappointed. “I’ll take it from here.”
“Colt, wait.”
He stills and drops his chin.
“If you need to talk—”
“No.” He shakes his head and I’m immobile watching this all unfold before me and hoping to God I don’t end up seeing something I can’t unsee. “I already told you—”
“I know. Just . . . I’m here if you need me.” The woman, Syd, turns and disappears back into the bar.
He nods and passes right by me as he stumbles up to the gate.
But seeing him brings all my nerves to life.
Feelings explode behind my ribs—anger, hurt, sympathy, as well as something deeper that I wish I understood.
He punches in a code and his big body sways like his boat on the open sea. I stand silently, holding my breath and ready to catch the gate once he passes through it.
He freezes.
His shoulders square.
Spine straight.
It’s as if every bit of booze he’d ingested has dissolved instantly. He doesn’t move a muscle and neither do I. “I know you’re there.”
My eyes dart around us, trying to figure out whether or not he’s talking to me or some drunken figment of his imagination.
“I can smell you.”
I warm as his words roll over my skin like a sweet seduction. God, what is wrong with me?
He drops his chin to his chest. “Why are you here, Celia?” He still doesn’t turn to look at me, so I approach slowly. “Stop!”
My feet grind to a halt. “Aden—”
“Leave. I don’t want you here.”
His words slice through my chest. What he’s saying might be true, but I can’t overcome the urge to comfort him. I move with my hand out to soothe him with a touch.
He spins on me faster than I’d think possible for someone in his state. “Never come at me from behind, understand?! Especially when I’m drunk.” He’s growling he’s so angry.
“Okay, I’m sorry.”
With his face under the light it looks like he hasn’t shaved or showered since yesterday. His eyes are masked under the shadow of his strong brow so I can’t tell how he feels at seeing me. With a slight tilt of his head I feel his eyes run the length of my body and I wrap my arms around my waist. “How long have you been out here?”
“Not long.” Lie.
“It’s the middle of the fucking night, Celia.” He runs a frustrated hand over his hair. “What do you want?”
I lick my lips, nerves pricking my skin, but I move a step or two closer until he jerks his head for me to stop. “You never called.”
His gaze tangles with mine and now I can see the war that wages behind his eyes.
“You told me you’d call. I’ve been worried about Jenkins and wondering if—”
“He’s dead.”
I gasp and stumble back a step. Dead. “No . . . when?”
“On the way to the hospital. They couldn’t revive him. He had a massive embolism.”
My jaw is so tight it hurts. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
He doesn’t answer, but only stares with a blank expression that makes him look inhuman.
“He died and you didn’t tell me! Why?” My voice cracks with the force of my anger and sadness that I lost a . . . well, a friend.
“Go home, Celia.” He turns to head through the gate.
Panicked, I grab his bicep.
He whirls, grips my forearm. “What did I fucking say about that, huh? I don’t want to hurt you . . .” Anymore is unspoken but communicated through the regret that shines in his eyes.
My chest rises and falls faster and faster. My head gets light with the hold Aden has on me along with his hot whiskey breath panting against my neck and the news that Jenkins’s last hour on this earth was spent in my hands.
“If you hadn’t . . .” I choke on emotion as it bubbles up in my chest. “Made me go on that kayak.”
“Do you think I don’t know that?” He pulls me close enough to get my full attention. As if he didn’t already have it. “You think I don’t blame myself?”
I let out a cry and he must think it’s from his grip on me because he releases me and puts distance between us. My knees fail to hold me up and I drop, cradling my head in my hands. God, what is happening to me? Why does it feel like my chest is being ripped in two? Tears burn my eyes and my throat tightens with emotion. I just don’t know why. The logical side of me tries to convince me that Jenkins was old, that he’d lived his life, that this kind of death sneaks in when it’s least expected and no amount of medical intervention could’ve saved him.
But none of that helps.
Because it’s not so much Jenkins’s death that hurts.
It’s the thought that Aden is hurting and he’s thrown up some kind of impenetrable wall between us.
I’ve been nothing more than some plaything that he can cast aside without concern when he’s become so much more to me.
“This wasn’t supposed to happen.” The mumbled words fall from my lips. I wasn’t supposed to become attached. I wasn’t supposed to get close enough to get hurt.
ADEN
This is exactly why I didn’t tell Celia that Jenkins died.
By the time I’d gotten to the hospital it was too late to even say goodbye. I waited as they pumped his chest, shocked him with enough volts of electricity to light the whole city, but he never responded.
So I did what I do best.
I drank until the pain went away.