On A Night Like This (The Callaways) (21 page)

There was a rafting shot with Aiden and Kyle in the front of the boat, two other men in the back, making their way through some nasty white water. There was nothing but pure joy on their faces.

"When was this taken?" she asked.

"Two years ago. That was on the American river."

"Looks dangerous."

"It's more fun that way."

"Sure." She moved down the wall, happy to see what else Aiden did in his spare time. No boring activities for this man. She saw him reeling in a fish, climbing up a steep rock face, and jumping out of an airplane. "Was this at work?" she asked.

"That was my first rookie jump," he said. "They gave us a souvenir."

"I can't believe you jump out of planes," she said, reminded of how very different they were. "Are all these other guys smokejumpers?"

"Most of 'em. We spend a lot of time together during fire season and when we're not fighting fire, we're still usually together."

"Do you ever do anything tame—golf, bowling?" she asked.

He grinned. "Some of the guys golf, but it's a little slow for me.

"Is this Vicky?" she asked, pausing in front of a party picture. Kyle had a birthday hat on his head and a pregnant woman stood behind him with her hand on his shoulder.

"Yeah, that was last year. I should take all these pictures down," he added, his tone turning somber.

"Don't rush it," she said, putting a hand on his arm as he reached toward the photograph.

"I can't leave them up. I can't look at Kyle at his birthday party and think about how he's never going to have another one," Aiden said, his voice rough with pain. "Damn." He pushed past her and ripped the photo off the wall, followed by another and another. He was suddenly obsessed with getting the pictures down.

Sara stepped back, waiting and watching, wishing she could help him, but there was nothing she could say that would help. Aiden had to get through the pain in his own way.

Eventually, there was nothing left on the wall but nails and odd patches of gleaming paint that had been hidden behind the photographs. Aiden stood in the middle of the pile, hands on his hips, his breath coming fast and ragged. Finally, he looked at her.

"God, Sara," he breathed.

His expression tore at her heart. "I know. It hurts," she said softly.

She went to him, wrapping her arms around his waist, pulling him as close as she could. He needed someone to hang on to, to anchor him, and she could do that.

After a slight hesitation, he put his arms around her, hugging her so tight she could feel every tense muscle in his body.

"What can I do?" she asked, gazing up at him. "How can I help?"

He stared down at her, his blue eyes dark and glittering. Then he lowered his head. His mouth sought hers with the same desperate urgency he'd shown a moment earlier. His lips were demanding, hot, and needy. She started out wanting to give him comfort but that turned quickly to passion, because this was Aiden. And he knew exactly how to set her senses on fire. She matched him kiss for kiss until they ran out of breath.

And then Aiden jerked back, his jaw tightening, his hands clenching into fists, so that he wouldn't reach for her again. "I've got to get out of here."

"I'll go with you," she said.

"No," he said forcefully. "You. Me. Not a good idea." He grabbed his keys and headed out the door, letting it slam behind him.

Shaken, she blew out a breath and then sat down on the couch. What the hell had just happened?

One minute they were talking and then they were kissing like there was no tomorrow. She'd never experienced so much intensity, so many emotions. She'd been on edge all day and when Aiden had snapped, she'd gone right along with him, wanting to forget everything and just be in the moment.

But the moment was over, and Aiden was still in a lot of pain.

Her heart went out to him.

But he didn't want her heart, she reminded herself. Like the last time, he'd pushed her away.

* * *

After leaving his apartment, Aiden walked through the park, his lips burning with the taste of Sara's mouth, his heart in turmoil, his mind full of condemnation for taking advantage of a woman who was far too generous for her own good. Her beautiful, compassionate brown eyes, her soft lips and tender smile had been his undoing. She'd opened her arms to him, and he'd wanted to lose himself in her. But he couldn't use her to ease his pain.

So he walked and he walked, his emotional pain turning physical as his injured leg protested the exercise. But he didn't slow down. He welcomed the physical ache. It was much easier to handle. He eventually left the city to take a trail into the woods. He'd walked and run this trail many times. It was used often in training runs, and there were memories along every step of the rocky path.

As the memories threatened to breach his control, he started to run. His muscles screamed in protest. He really shouldn't be jogging, but he pushed himself to do it anyway. He needed to burn some energy and maybe, just maybe, he could outrun the past.

It didn't work. With the setting sun in his face, he came to a halt, breathless and exhausted with sweat running down his face, back and shoulders.

Flopping down on the ground, he took in gulps of air, feeling like he'd just finished one of the grueling runs that were required to be a smokejumper. When he'd gone through rookie training with Kyle, he'd been shocked at the amount of physical strength and endurance required to do the job. He'd thought he was in good shape before he got there, but he wasn't even close. He and Kyle had never worked so hard in their lives. The training had tested their stamina, endurance, courage and mostly their will.

They'd never considered quitting. They'd been more worried about not making it. Kyle had been particularly stressed out before their final test.

"Don't let me quit, Aiden," he'd said. "Whatever I say, no matter how tired I am, don’t let me give up. I want to do this. I want to be proud of myself. I want to do this more than I've ever wanted to do anything."

"Right back at you," he'd told him. "You run, I run. We don't stop. Ever."

The pact had carried them through that run and through many more runs. In fact, it had carried them through all the challenges they'd faced together – except for the last one.

"Sorry, I let you down, buddy," he muttered, staring up at the sky.

The dusky twilight turned to a blazing orange red. Instead of sky, he saw the forest on fire, the flames splitting the trees, the smoke thick and black, and Kyle walking away from him.

Where the hell was he going?

But now, like before, there was no answer.

Sitting up, he took several more breaths, then stood up. It was getting dark and he was miles from home. Sara was probably worried. He reached into his pocket for his cell phone and realized he'd left it on his coffee table. There was nothing to do but head home. The pain in his leg was bad now that he wasn't so distracted by grief, and he had to go slow. By the time he made it back to the apartment it was eight o'clock at night. He'd been gone for hours.

He had no idea of the response he'd get when he finally opened his apartment door. He had enough experience with women to suspect he wasn't going to get a great welcome.

Chapter Sixteen

Aiden had expected Sara to be pissed off, maybe sulking, maybe even gone. But when he let himself into his apartment, he found her in the kitchen, stirring something in a pot on the stove. The air smelled like garlic and onions, and for the first time in a long time, a bit like home. To say he was shocked was an understatement.

"I hope you're hungry," Sara said, turning her head to give him a warm smile.

That smile held absolutely no hint of resentment or anger and it rattled him as much as the dinner she appeared to be making.

"I am starving," he said, as he limped across the room.

Her sharp gaze took in his hobbling stride. "You're hurt."

"I just walked too long," he said, pausing by the stove.

"You look like you just finished a marathon," she said, her eyes running down his sweaty face and body. "Do you need some ice? Maybe a shower?"

"I'll get to all that. First I want to apologize."

"It's fine, Aiden."

"I shouldn't have—"

"Stop," she interrupted, holding up a hand. "I said it was fine. You don't have to apologize. I know what grief feels like, and I know why you had to get out of here."

He could see the understanding in her eyes, which only made him feel guilty. "Still, I shouldn't have left you like that. You've had a tough day, too."

"Well, surprisingly, I feel better. I'm far, far away from my problems, and I have you to thank for that. So I decided to make you dinner."

"You're being very nice," he said, surprised by her attitude.

"I'm a very nice person. Haven't you figured that out yet?"

He smiled back at her. "Actually, I've known that all along. You were always a sweetheart, Sara. Far too good for me."

She shook her head, her expression turning rueful. "I never liked being the good girl. It was so boring."

"It's who you were and who you still are," he amended. Sara had definitely come out of her shell since high school. She wasn't afraid to be smart in front of people anymore and she could stand up for herself. But deep down she still had a core of softness and warmth that was just inherent in who she was.

"Bad girls had and still have more fun," she said. "Anyway, you should check your phone. It rang a few times while you were gone."

"Probably my family trying to track me down. My father and grandfather both wanted to have a discussion with me tonight."

"No wonder you were so willing to hit the road," she said dryly. "And here I thought it was all for me."

"It was for both of us. When you told me you needed time to just think and breathe, I felt exactly the same way. I figured we could do it together." He grabbed his phone and checked his missed calls. There were several from family members along with a couple of text messages from Emma, telling him he better take care of her friend. "Did you hear from Emma?" he asked.

Sara nodded, her eyes filling with guilt. "I didn't pick up the call, but I sent her a message saying I'm okay and not to worry. I feel badly about taking off on her the way I did. She must be wondering what's going on."

"You'll fill her in when it's time. In the meanwhile, she'll live." He moved over to the stove. "That sauce smells amazing. I thought you said you couldn't cook."

"I have three dishes I know how to make and this is one of them. It's not fancy, but it's pretty tasty."

"I know you didn't find any food in my refrigerator, so…"

"So I walked to the store, which thankfully was only about a mile. You took the keys to your truck with you."

"I realized that later."

"And I bought a few things for dinner and breakfast. I threw out all the expired food in your fridge. It was starting to stink."

"I left in a hurry."

"Where exactly did you go?"

"I just drove. To be honest, I wasn't paying any attention. When I would start to fall asleep, I'd pull over, camp out or find a motel for the occasional shower. I ended up in Wyoming."

"That's crazy, Aiden."

"That's when I realized that no matter how far I went, I wasn't going to be able to get away from myself. So I headed back to San Francisco, thinking maybe being around the family would help me remember who I was. That didn't really work out. Although, I did find you there. That was a nice surprise—at least for me. You weren't too happy about it."

"I wasn't expecting to see you and the fire shook me up. I thought I was just going to surprise my father for his birthday and, wow, look how that's turned out. My whole life, my entire sense of identity, is in question. Talk about not knowing who you are, I have no idea who anyone in my family is."

He nodded. "We can talk about it."

"No, not yet," she said quickly. "Let's just have dinner. It's almost ready. Why don't you sit down and put your leg up."

"Good idea," he said, moving over to the table.

"I met one of your neighbors earlier, a very attractive redhead named Mallory. She asked me to tell you that she was thinking about you and that you should call her."

"Thanks," he said, taking a seat.

"So who is Mallory? An old girlfriend?" she asked, a curious gleam in her eyes.

"I wouldn't call her a girlfriend. We went out a few times." He grimaced as he propped up his leg on a nearby chair.

"Do you need some ice?" Sara asked, not missing a thing.

"It will be fine."

She didn't look like she believed him, but she let it go. "So what happened with Mallory?"

"Nothing. We had some laughs. That was it. There was no big drama."

"She likes you. I recognized that look in her eyes when she asked about you."

"Mallory likes a lot of people," he said with a shrug. "Believe me, I did not break her heart."

"Would you know if you had?" Sara challenged.

"I don't get involved with women who are looking for a serious relationship. I'm up front about that. I always have been. Except, maybe with you. But that night with you was unexpected. I didn't handle it well obviously." He paused, waiting for her to make a comeback, but her gaze was focused on the stove. "What about you, Sara? You're as single as I am. What's your story?"

"I have no story. I told you I work all the time, and I haven't met anyone I liked well enough to change that." She paused, her expression contemplative. "Love has always been a mystery to me. I saw love when I looked next door, but I didn't see it in my own home. I certainly never wanted to model my parents' relationship. And I've never wanted to be with a man who could make me as sad as my mom used to get. She tried not to show her unhappiness to me, but I could see it. Sometimes I could hear their raised voices late at night. I used to worry sometimes that she'd leave and not take me with her. I did not want to get stuck with my dad." She turned her gaze to Aiden. "But that's exactly what happened. I got stuck with my dad, and he's not any more happy about it than I am. Anyway, I don't want to talk about him—or even about love. My few attempts at the emotion haven't turned out so well."