Hard to Handle (19 page)

Okay. Okay, that made sense.

Crickitt rubbed circles on Sadie’s back as Sadie’s world sharpened to a very finite point. Where her world’s edges had blurred earlier, now she saw them. Crystal clear.

“I love him, Crickitt.” Sadie waited for the overwhelming feeling of dread to wash over her, to tie her into knots and cause her life to tailspin out of control. The dread didn’t come. She felt light, not heavy. Full, not empty. “I want to marry him,” she said, trying out the words on her tongue. Again, the heaviness didn’t come. She smiled, laughing through her tears.

Crickitt was crying. “Oh my gosh, I’m so glad,” she sobbed, waving her free hand to dry her tears on her cheeks. “I always pictured Aunt Sadie and Uncle Aiden, and now—” Her eyes widened, her face blanked. “I mean…” She shook her head, even as her hand strayed to her stomach.

Sadie’s mouth dropped open. “You’re pregnant?”

Crickitt nodded and Sadie looped her arms around her best friend’s neck. “We’re not supposed to tell,” Crickitt said, her voice muffled by Sadie’s hair. “Not yet.”

Sadie pulled back. “I won’t tell.” She thought of her sister’s baby, and how poorly she’d behaved when she heard the news. She had some making up to do in that department. But first, she had to go and find the man she loved. Which scared her to death.

Sadie held on to Crickitt’s shoulders, hoping to extract some of Crickitt’s strength for herself. “Do you think he’ll forgive me?”

“Only one way to find out.” Crickitt smiled.

The front door opened and closed and Sadie turned to find Shane home from work. He dropped his jacket over the chaise lounge in the front room and strode over to where they stood.

“Hi, honey,” Crickitt said.

He flicked a look from Crickitt to Sadie. “You told her. I win.” He held out a hand. “Five bucks. Aiden was in my office yesterday and I didn’t—”

“Aiden?” Sadie’s heart dropped. “You saw him? How is he?” She balled her hands into fists.

“He loves you,” Shane said simply. He lifted his eyebrows at Crickitt. “I’m going to change.” He kissed Crickitt’s lips, then paused in front of Sadie, bending over so she was forced to meet his amber-colored eyes. “Go to him, Sadie. One way or the other, you have to put the bastard out of his misery.” Then he kissed her forehead and squeezed her arm. Shane headed to the other side of the house, calling over his shoulder, “Five bucks, Crickitt. Pay up!”

“He’s right,” Crickitt said. “You have to go to him.”

Sadie swallowed. And she’d thought admitting to herself she loved Aiden was hard. Telling him would be even harder.

H
e’s out,” Aiden said, hoisting his thumb over his shoulder. Lyon had made him read
Green Eggs and Ham
three times, but finally, he’d fallen asleep.

“Thanks, man,” Evan said. “He’s had a big day.”

Evan had come into town for the weekend. And for some reason had been in a really good mood. Maybe he wasn’t interested in maintaining their ongoing feud. Whatever epiphany he’d come to since the party, when they’d seen each other last, must’ve been a good one.

“Scotch, Aid?” his father asked, serving himself and Evan.

Aiden had done enough drinking over the last week to justify a lengthy stay at Betty Ford. He’d better lay off before he had a bigger problem than his swelling liver. “No, thanks. I was thinking of going for a run.”

Evan cast a dubious glance out of the window. “Tonight? You’re crazy.”

“It’s pouring, son,” Mike said.

It was. Rain beat the roof, the windows, but there wasn’t any lightning, and the temperature wasn’t too cold. Since his chat with Shane yesterday, Aiden had some extra steam to burn off. A run in the cool rain might be just the thing he needed.

Shane’s proclamation that Crickitt had given him one more chance had burrowed beneath Aiden’s skin. And last night he’d lain awake in bed and actually, foolishly, considered going back to Sadie and seeing if she’d take him back.

Maybe he didn’t need a stay at Betty Ford; maybe he needed a padded cell with a locking door.

He woke this morning recalling everything she
hadn’t
said while he’d stood outside her door spilling his guts. Her continued silence spoke volumes. She hadn’t called him this week. He’d given her what she wanted, then she’d drawn the line in the sand. Not that making love to Sadie was a hardship for him, but they’d made love on her terms. If he had his way, he’d be engaged by now.

“I’m not made of sugar,” Aiden said, watching the rain hit the window behind his brother and father’s head. He spun his ball cap so the bill covered his eyes. “Be back soon.” He left his father and brother in the den and snagged his black waterproof running jacket on the way outside. Under the small front porch, he watched it pour, reconsidering that glass of scotch.

A memory of Sadie’s übercool shrug the night he was going to propose—the casual way she suggested they have sex a few times a week—pissed him off enough to propel him into the storm. He splashed through a puddle, then another, keeping his head down as he found his pace.

This last week had been one of the hardest Aiden had ever endured. And that was saying a lot, since the last woman he’d committed to spend a lifetime with had left him for someone else. But as bad as it was to learn Harmony had chosen his best friend and business partner over Aiden, at least now Aiden could look back and see things had turned out for the best. When he looked back, or maybe forward, at the life he and Sadie could have had, he didn’t see it as a dodged bullet. He felt as if he’d taken two to the chest.

He loved her.
Still
loved her, dammit. And when pretending he was okay didn’t lessen the pain of losing her, or drinking to forget her hadn’t made her the least bit fuzzy in his memory, he knew he was in trouble. In trouble and there was absolutely nothing he could do about it. He didn’t know why he’d thought he could get over her this time. It wasn’t like he’d been able to get over her the last time. The pain of losing her was dull, but still there. Like the pain in his back now, reminding him of the night he’d wrecked his bike.

He wondered if loving Sadie would ache in the same way. If it’d be a persistent reminder that never fully healed. If she’d remain a lingering, distant memory regardless of who came into his life next. A small, dark part of his heart knew she would be there forever. And that made him want to go to her and give her—and himself—one final chance to be who they were meant to be.

But he wasn’t going to beg.

It wasn’t a matter of pride. It was a matter of needing to get used to not having her around. Because casual wasn’t going to cut it for him. Not where she was concerned. He loved her with every fiber of his being. It was the only way he knew how to love her. He couldn’t do half measures. Not where Sadie was concerned.

And, yeah, maybe he wasn’t going to her partially out of self-preservation. He was afraid if she did talk to him, she’d suggest they “see where it goes.” But Aiden had figured out a long time ago that with Sadie, he knew exactly where he wanted it to go. And while he wasn’t sure he could ever feel exactly this way for another woman, he
was sure
a truncated relationship with Sadie wasn’t a good solution to his problem.

And so here he was, alone. Running in the effing rain.

But he wasn’t alone, he reminded himself. He had plenty to be grateful for. His brothers, his nephew, his sister and her dorky husband. And yeah, he missed his mom. Losing her made him appreciate his family, and the time they had together, that much more.

The ache in his heart would subside. He may be crying into his beer (or Jim Beam or vodka tonic) for the remainder of his days, but he couldn’t let this crush him. He was being melodramatic yesterday when he’d told Shane he wished he could run away from home. That was kid stuff, the running away. Axle’s was Aiden’s legacy. Aiden was equipped to run those stores better than anyone, and he’d be damned if he’d turn away from it now that everything was lining up the way he wanted it.

Almost
everything, anyway.

Aiden slowed to a walk, pressing a hand into his side. Pain radiated down his back. Damn, that hurt. He’d been running too much lately, hoping the pounding of his feet on the pavement would drown out his thoughts. At least the pain quelled them.

Then again, maybe not, he thought as he turned the corner and saw Sadie’s car parked in front of his father’s house. He almost reached up and rubbed his eyes to be sure she was really there. But that was her, all right, climbing out and shielding her eyes from the relentless rain.

Her hair soaked through and went flat on her head in the seconds it took for him to walk to her. She waited, her white dress shirt plastered to her skin and giving him a peek at the lacy bra underneath.

His heart clenched. She was exquisite. Beautiful. He missed her so much.

She doesn’t love you.

Yeah. There was that.

Her lids fluttered as stray raindrops splattered against her face. Either that or she was crying. He steeled himself for the possibility. Even if she wept, he couldn’t let it break his resolve. He’d come this far—had nearly a week under his belt. It would get easier. Hopefully.

“What are you doing here?” he called over the driving rain.

“I came to see you,” she called back. She gestured to the car. “Take a drive with me?” An uncomfortable smile. “My treat.”

Aiden had imagined Sadie coming to him. And in every imagining, he had said yes no matter what she’d asked. He’d pulled her into his arms and kissed her senseless and promised to love her forever. But now that she stood in front of him, the memory of her pushing him away was too fresh. Too painful.

“No, thank you,” he told her. He hazarded a glance at the wide front window of his father’s house. The living room light was out, Dad and Evan likely still in the den. Unable to let Sadie stand in the downpour any longer, Aiden tipped his head toward the awning and led her to the porch.

She scaled the steps in a pair of tall red heels and it took everything in him to keep from grabbing her hand and helping her up. If he touched her, it’d be over. He’d probably crush her against him and kiss her and forget every assurance he’d just given himself.

Sadie smoothed her hair, which was already starting to curl on the ends. He recalled the morning—
the last morning
—they’d shared a shower, how she’d towel dried her hair, leaving the strands in damp waves, her face scrubbed free of makeup. Had she known she didn’t love him then? He gave the memory a violent push.

Don’t go there.

“What’s up?” he asked, hoping to get to the reason why she came, and get her out of here as soon as possible. Preferably before Dad and Evan noticed. He cast another look at the house. Still dark.

“I saw Crickitt today,” she said as she rubbed her hands together in a nervous gesture. “She and Shane had some news—”

“Sadie.” Aiden’s patience was thin ice. Maybe thinner. “You didn’t come here to talk about my cousin.”

He wouldn’t let her dance around this. Not again. Not after he’d been nothing but forward and honest. He deserved the same from her. He deserved at least that. Harmony had been the queen of the start and stall. She’d leave him, then come back, and he’d let her, only to watch her leave again. How long until Sadie’s next freak-out?

Love shouldn’t be this hard.

Love wasn’t hard for him. Love was simple. Love was yes, followed by a hundred more yeses. What was so damn complicated about that? He understood Sadie was afraid—hell,
he
was afraid. He knew how betrayal could kill a relationship. And he knew how death could separate you from a loved one for forever. So did Sadie, he realized, as he watched the water dripping from her chin. She’d lost her father. She’d lost her fiancé. And yet she refused to open herself up to Aiden. Despite the firm hold Sadie had on his heart, he wouldn’t allow himself to go through the pain of losing her again. No matter how good it felt to take her back in the moment.

“You have one minute,” he said, ignoring the painful squeeze in his heart, “before I say good-bye and go inside.”

His heart squeezed even harder when Sadie pressed her lips together and acquiesced with a nod. “Okay, that’s fair.” She pulled in a breath, lifted her shoulders, and crossed her arms over her see-through shirt. He’d seen her this vulnerable before. The night he’d driven into her, his name rolling off her lips on a cry of ecstasy. The night he’d told her he loved her while he cradled her face in his hands.

Don’t go there, dammit.

Right. He was an impenetrable wall of granite.

“The day you called me from the airport in Oregon,” she started. “When you were with your mom.”

Shit.
Impenetrable, he reminded himself.
Effing impenetrable.

“You told me you were moving there. And we couldn’t be together anymore.”

Aiden shot a longing gaze at the front door.

“I loved you then.”

He snapped his head back to her. Blinked. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Because I still love you.”

It was all he’d wanted to hear for as long as he could remember. The unflappable optimistic part of him wanted to scoop her into his arms and bury his face in her wet hair, tell her he loved her, that he’d love her until he died. Maybe longer. And if this were a movie instead of his life, if the screen faded to black, and the cameras ceased rolling, he’d do just that.
The End
would appear in curly script, and they’d live happily ever after.

But this wasn’t a movie. And this wasn’t
The End
.

In the real world, there’d be a tomorrow and a day after tomorrow. And in a week, or a month, or a year, when Sadie got skittish—because, face it, that’s what she did—she’d bolt and he’d be left to pick up the pieces. How much more would it hurt then?

He didn’t want to know.

“Aiden.” She took a step toward him. He stepped back. Tears swam in her eyes and he barricaded his heart. He was doing the right thing. “I love you,” she said.

“Stop saying that, Sadie. Please.”

She retreated, just one step, and nodded. Actually nodded. Her easy acceptance was harder to take than if she’d crumbled at his feet and begged. Not that he wanted her to. God, just her being here had flipped his world. He didn’t know what he wanted. Minutes ago, he’d been so sure, so solid on his decisions…and now…

He had to get away from her. Away from her beautiful face and the emotional one-two punch of her confession and her pleading eyes. “I’m sorry, Sadie. I can’t,” he gritted out.

He opened the front door, waiting for Sadie to call his name. She didn’t. And when he looked out the front window, he was almost surprised to see her run for her car and close the door. The engine turned over. The headlights came on.

She was leaving.

And Aiden hoped to God he’d done the right thing.