“It was all my fault.”
“Something tells me there’s more.”
“At twelve I caused a car accident outside my house, fifteen I backed the car over our dog, fifteen and a half I made muffins for my class and gave everyone food poisoning, sixteen I got suspended for a poem I wrote about suicide that was really the lyrics to a song written by some metal band. I thought it was deep and thought-provoking. Do you want me to continue or do you get the idea?”
His jaw hangs open on its hinges and I take that as my cue to continue.
“Seventeen I broke my PE teacher’s arm, nineteen I gave money to a homeless guy in my neighborhood who used it to buy drugs and OD’d, twenty—”
“Hold on, you’ve got something for almost every year of your life from the time you were eight?”
“Eventually I figured out there was something wrong with me, so . . .” I locked myself in my room for over a year. “College kept me indoors.” Online classes. “I was relatively safe if I avoided people.” I bite my lip, fearing I’ve exposed too much Sawyer to be Celia.
“And how old are you now?”
“Twenty-four.”
“You realize this is ridiculous, right? Wait.” His jaw gets hard. “The photos.”
“The what—” Oh God.
I fucked up!
“You’re so afraid to fuck something up, yet you take risks most people wouldn’t, how?”
My mind scrambles to come up with an answer. If you don’t know what to do, flip the coin. My sister’s words come washing in and I blurt, “The coin.”
His mouth remains tight, but his shoulders relax a fraction. “So you flip the coin to help you make choices you’re afraid of.”
I guess that’s close enough to the truth. “Once it’s taken out of my hands . . .” I can’t even look at him while lying. I don’t know what happened. I completely forgot to pretend. “Fate takes over.”
“And you allowed these freak accidents to dictate what’s safe and what’s not.”
“I didn’t allow it, Aden. It just did.”
“And what about now? Do you still feel cursed?”
A couple of weeks ago I would’ve said yes, but after this last week? “Not as much, no.”
“Good.” He leans back with a huff. “Because it’s a horrible way to live.”
“I just . . . I feel like I have blood on my hands.”
He jerks his gaze to mine, and they flash with irritation. “You didn’t kill anyone, Celia. Okay, maybe the dog, but you don’t know what it’s like to kill until you do it on purpose with intent.”
I jump at the way his words are barked at me and remember he has a history of death and violence that I know very little about. His eyes are back to being cold and guarded and I want to kick myself for losing him again so easily.
“You’re right, I’m just . . .” Trying to get you back.
Things between us are so easy when we are alone, but anywhere else everything with Aden becomes complicated.
He returns to scanning our surroundings and defeat punches me in the chest. “I’m going to go to the ladies’ room.”
He nods and has to back up so I can push my seat back as he’d had me pinned between a wall, the table, and him.
Before I walk away I gently touch his forearm. He startles and his eyes come to mine and immediately soften in apology.
“I’m sorry. I should’ve known better. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
He smiles shyly and takes my hand to bring it to his lips when—pop!
His big body slams into mine. I’m crushed between him and the unforgiving block wall at my back. He smothers me. My lungs pant for air.
I pat his lower back. “Aden, you’re crushing me.”
His muscles are tense and shaking. “What the fuck was that?”
“It was a firework.”
Slowly he pulls away, his eyes looking wild and unfocused and—pop! Another fires. His shoulders tense, but he manages to hold back his response.
I reach up and cup his jaw only to have him jerk away from my touch. “We need to go.”
“Okay.”
His eyes scan the bar and I follow his gaze, expecting to see whatever threat he sees. People dressed in various arrangements of red, white, and blue, laughing, drinking, and harmlessly celebrating. “Aden?”
His face is pale and the muscle in his jaw ticks. He throws a wad of cash on the table and hooks me around the shoulders. “We can watch the fireworks from the cottages.” He roughly guides me through the crowd. “The view, we can see the pier and it’ll be more—” He glares at a group of men who stumble in front of us, blocking the exit. “Get the fuck out the way.”
They turn toward us and Aden shoves me behind his back.
“You got a problem, asshole,” the bigger one of the group says while his friends laugh.
Aden steps close and has at least three inches on the guy. I don’t know what the dude sees in his eyes, but he backs off, shaking his head. “Damn, chill out.”
They move and Aden grabs my arm and ushers me out the door, down the steps, and directly to his truck.
“Are you okay—”
“Of course.” He swings the door open, not looking at me, and then throws it closed the second my feet are safe inside.
Another pop and Aden flinches while jogging around the hood.
What in the hell is going on?
It’s a short and quiet ride back to the cottages, and other than the obsessive way his wild eyes check the rearview mirrors he seems to have calmed. He throws the truck into park and I hesitate to say anything, fearing that it’ll trigger his anger.
“I’m sorry.” He’s stares blindly out the front windshield. “It’s the crowds.” He turns toward me and in the dark his eyes look black. “They remind me of a time when everyone was a threat.”
I nod slowly. “Okay, I understand.”
“It’s bad enough when I’m alone, but with you it’s . . .” He blows out a breath and the action seems to loosen his muscles a little more. “Worse. If anyone hurt you . . .” He shakes his head as if the thought is too deplorable to imagine and my whole body warms.
“Can I touch you?” Earlier my touch seemed to upset him and I want to make sure I don’t cross some invisible boundary.
He takes my hand and presses it to his chest. The rapid beat of his pulse feels like hummingbird wings against my palm.
“Oh my God, Aden . . . your heart is racing.”
He laughs humorlessly. “I know.”
What happened to him?
“Do you want to talk about it?”
He drops my hand and stares directly into my eyes. “No.”
I lean across the center console and he doesn’t push me away so I press my lips to his. At first they’re firm and unyielding but after a few gentle swipes of my tongue he hooks me around the back of the neck and devours my mouth. The kiss is desperate, angry, and he nips at my lower lip with an impatience I’ve come to expect from Aden when he needs me to help him forget.
I gasp as I come up for air. “Let’s go inside.”
He grins, and a sliver of my Aden comes back. “You go ahead, I’ll meet you there in a few.” With a long, lingering wet kiss I jump from the truck and head back to Celia’s cottage with the lead weight of a plane ticket back to Phoenix weighing down my purse and my thoughts.
TWENTY-THREE