The Absolution of Aidan(38)

“See you later. And no touching yourself until I’m here.”

I ignore his words when he pulls away. My body that was on fire seconds ago is now left freezing cold, like I’ve been doused with an ice bucket full of freezing water. However, it has nothing to do with not having his warmth next to me. It has everything to do with the situation that his hand has been forced to play.

I absolutely hate this feeling of dread coursing through me. I know now what Alina felt like when she first started dating Roan. Fear. Dread of the unknown. Only this time, I know nothing. I know Aidan and Roan would not be leaving if they didn’t take this threat seriously, but why? Why is it that for once in my life, I feel I could truly be happy, that the three of us could build on this foundation we’ve created, and then the senseless evil people in this world could show up and rip my world apart?

I’ve lived in hell for the first part of this past year, the only thing keeping me from completely losing my fucking mind was knowing a life was growing inside of me. I strived to get better, determined to make my child proud of me, to give him a happy and healthy life. Once again, I hold my distress inside of me. I need to remain strong, if not for myself, then for this man who in such a short period of time has become important to me. Strong, I repeat the word over and over in my rattled-up head.

“And I’ll teach you how to change a shitty diaper when you return.” I retort sweet-tart like, so he doesn’t hear the fear in my voice. Fear stinks; you really can smell it from a mile away. I’m living proof life’s fear and its unpredictability can catch you off guard and toss you straight into hell. I’ve been there. Nothing or no one is going to take me back there, and especially not Aidan’s so-called family. The things he told me last night about his mother only fueled the poison I know reeks from her putrid soul. She’s the one who belongs in hell, right along with her corrupted son, Ryan.

“Anything for you,” he says sweetly. I know my fearless act worked when he winks as he rights himself, leaving me behind.

I stand in my kitchen, trembling, until I hear Roan tell me goodbye as he closes the front door. Then I glide to my ass on the floor, curl my knees up to my chest, and for the first time in almost a year, my mind travels back to the last time he walked out that door, only this time I know he’ll be coming back.

I stand up, stronger, more determined than ever to not dwell on what started out to be a great day and now has turned to shit. I’m amused about the word ‘shit’ once again. By the time I reach the living room, my little man is sound asleep. My eyes roam down his body, taking in my son’s apparel. If he weren’t zonked out, I might scream, instead I whisper and shudder. “I’m going to kill that fucker.” And I mean it. He had the balls to put a Detroit Tigers baseball shirt on my son, when he knows damn well I’m a Yankee’s fan. “You’re in deep shit when you get home, Aidan Hughes. Deep shit!”





CHAPTER ELEVEN


AIDAN





Most men keep their private lives private. I’m no exception. Today though, as I weave my way through the early afternoon traffic, I want to fucking roar. Beat my hands on my chest. Tell the entire world.

“That pussy-ass grin on your face speaks for itself, motherfucker,” Roan barks out. I give him the you-have-a-lot-of-room-to-talk look, press down on the gas, and let my truck do the roaring for me as I exit onto the expressway.

“Obviously, I’m unqualified as fuck when it comes to knowing how to care for a baby, but Christ, the feeling of knowing I have a son is indescribable.” I’ve endured more shit in my life than any one person can handle. But this, this is the greatest sensation my fucked-up life has ever felt.

Now, here I am, forced to leave my family so I can deal with saving a woman’s life from my mother, whom I should be calling my family. God. The idea of her or her beloved son coming anywhere near my son or this woman I’m about to see sends me in a damn rage. Sick Fuckers.

This sinister emotion is more than a stab to the gut. I do not trust either one of them as far as I can spit. If the two of them were desperate to come to me, the person they despise as much as I do them, then I know damn well they’re serious about killing her.

I can’t let that happen. Especially not to an innocent woman, who more than likely knows nothing about how malicious those two can be when they want something, a something that rightfully belongs to her.

She deserves some of that prick’s money. It isn’t her fault her father was a grade A asshole. Or that he cheated on his wife. Hell, I can’t even count the times I came home from school and caught another man exiting my mother’s bedroom, only to get a, “Hey, what’s up, kid?” or a chin lift when they passed me in the hallway. Bullshit no teenager should have to see. She’s a conniving bitch and a slut, rolled up in plastic and Botox.