“You’re certain he knows?” Jodi repeated, her voice rising as she spoke. “You’re certain. You haven’t even told him, have you?”
I didn’t answer.
She shook her head, disgusted. “You are such a coward.”
My eyes wide, I started to protest, but she wasn’t done.
She took a deep breath and narrowed her eyes. “This isn’t okay, and for once I’m going to say something.”
“Jodi, it really is for the best,” I said, reaching for her.
She jerked her hand out of my reach. “No. No, it’s not. It’s as far from being for the best as it could possibly be. I thought you’d grown. I thought you understood, but it turns out you’re as emotionally stunted as you’ve always been. You were a coward to run five years ago after my brother died, and you’re a coward now, running away because another man who is far, far too good for you loves you.” She shook with barely contained anger.
“Jodi, I—”
“No. You don’t get to speak.” She held up her hand and stood up, her face blotchy and her voice beginning to shake. “I already texted Aaron and he’s going to your house. Because knowing you, you’ll think telling the two of us is good enough. God forbid you talk to your brother, who, you know, you barely talk to anyway since you probably think talking to his wife is good enough. News flash: it’s not. Must be nice to be able to choose not to talk to your brother. Your brother, who is alive. But what do you care, huh?” She spun on her heel to walk away, then spun back. “Get out of my shop. Go home. Tell Aaron to his face. You owe him that. That is the absolute barest of what you owe.”
She turned, her skirt swinging, and speed-walked into the back of the shop.
Ears ringing and face burning, I looked at Ceci, who stared back with an expression that told me she agreed with everything Jodi had said.
Wordlessly, I swallowed, nodded, and scraped back my chair.
I saw his truck in the drive as soon as I turned the corner. Samson did, too, and bolted down the sidewalk to Aaron without sparing me a second glance. Aaron paced the porch, lit up only by the street lights. His movements were tense, his body rigid.
I shook my hands, trying to get rid of the nerves that shot through me the closer I got to him. I hadn’t worked out what I was going to say.
If I were honest, I thought that maybe Jodi was right. Maybe I was going to just leave. Maybe I would have left him a letter.
God.
They were right. I was a coward.
He looked up as I turned onto the walkway and approached the porch. His jaw was tight and his eyes searched mine. “Is it true?” he asked.
I wanted to speak, but the words clogged in my throat. I motioned to the front door as I passed him, mute and clawing at the urge to cling to him and beg him to tell me it was all going to be okay.
“All” being everything I’d fucked up.
Samson trotted in first, fully expecting to be fed and watered. I was next, with Aaron behind me. I went to the kitchen, needing to buy more time. Every sound I made, from picking up the bowls to getting fresh water to opening the bag of food and pouring the kibble in, seemed magnified.
I set Samson’s bowls down and he dove in. Nothing to do but face Aaron.
He leaned against the island and stared at me, his arms crossed over his chest. “Is it true?” he asked again.
“I was—”
“Were you really going to leave without talking to me?” He was stiff, absolutely nothing about him relaxed.
“No!” Even if maybe I was lying. “This is all happening too fast.”
“Whose fault is that?” he demanded.
“Will you wait a minute?” I choked. “Give me time to gather my thoughts.”
He shook his head. His eyes were the color of cold metal in winter, glinting harshly in the kitchen light. “Time is all I’ve given you. Time and patience and understanding…and for what?” His voice broke on the last word.
My heart broke right along with it. “Aaron,” I said.
He wiped a hand down his face. “I’m an idiot. You were never going to stay and I let myself believe that you would. That what I thought we had was worth exploring. That I was enough. But instead, you’re doing exactly what you’ve been doing for five years and I knew—I fucking knew and I let myself believe you’d stay.” He pushed off the island.
“I’m sorry.” Pathetic words. My mind whirred, filled with nothing but static. I didn’t know how to explain. And even if I did, what good would it do?
“You’re sorry,” he repeated flatly.
I nodded and fought the tears that stung the backs of my eyes. “I just…” But nothing would come. I was flailing, scrambling for purchase.
“You just. You just,” he said, his voice getting stronger. “You just what, Devon? Just thought some plan would fall in your lap so all of this would be easy? Just thought you’d let me fall in love with you and then leave?”
I jerked my head up. “What?”
He threw his arms out. “Of course I love you, Devon! That’s been the whole point!”
Shit. The tears fell freely now, but my head still buzzed. I couldn’t think. He loved me? He loved me?
But of course he did. Everything he’d done for me, every glance, every touch. It had all been out of love.
