Fit for Love (A Stand By Me Novel Book 3) (15 page)

Makenna walks over to the bookshelf in one corner of the room and retrieves the portable DVD player and movie. Her lingering smile shows how easily Ryder relaxes her.

“Wow. This Pickles must be pretty silly.” I sit on the edge of his bed and turn my attention to him.

Ryder grows quiet. “No,” he says.

“No what?”

“Silly,” he answers. He snakes a small hand out and grabs the bottom of my shirt and pulls me closer.

I pat his hand. “What’s up big man?”

“Watch movie.” He glances from me to his mom.

“He doesn’t watch kid movies,” Makenna answers. She gives me an apologetic smile. “Sorry. He doesn’t get it that you’re not his new playmate.”

I mentally measure whether she’ll care if we sit with him for a few minutes. “What if we only watch the beginning?”

He loosens his grip on my shirt and nods. “Yes. Ok. Yes.”

Makenna sits on the opposite side of the bed, sandwiching Ryder between us. “Lie back. I’ll put the player on your tummy.”

He obeys and stares at the screen as she arranges it and hits PLAY. In minutes, the movie begins. It’s a cartoon with a small dog that follows his boy master around the house as if he’s attached by a leash. Except he’s not and the boy cannot go anywhere without the dog following.

“Woof, woof,” Ryder says, along with the dog on the screen.

Makenna touches my shoulder and nods toward the door. I take a last look at Ryder, sure he won’t even notice if we leave.

We slip out of the bedroom like two thieves stealing away. I rest my palm on the center of her back as we walk into the living room. “What’s going on?”

“Here. Let’s talk.” Makenna sits on the sofa near the middle. It’s a good sign. She wants me close.

I exhale. “You sure know how to make a guy nervous.”

She closes her eyes and grimaces. “Sorry. I…just…I have some things to tell you, so you know where we stand. No surprises. If we’re going to be together, you should know.”

“Ok. Sure. You can tell me anything. But you should know I’m already crazy about you, so there’s nothing that’s going to change that.”

She shakes her head. “I’ve had a pretty messed up life. You say that now, but you
can
change your mind. And it’s better if you do it now, than when Ryder gets more attached than he already is. No judgment from me.”

My breath quickens. Shit. It’s as though she expects me to break it off with her.

Makenna twists a wide silver ring on her right hand and places her head on my shoulder for a minute. I breathe in the fragrance of her hair and let it tickle my chin. The music and voices from Ryder’s bedroom colors what would otherwise be silence.

She stops twisting the ring. “I was at home with Daddy when he killed himself.”

M
akenna

E
ven though the
movie plays loudly in Ryder’s room, I hear Aiden’s thoughts.
No wonder she’s so weird. Suicide. Is it hereditary? Could she end up mental like her dad?

I feel his lungs expand as he sucks in a shallow breath, the kind you manage when you’re trying not to move. Sense the tightening of muscles as they bunch in the arm slung casually over my shoulders.

“I called 911 after Daddy shot himself,” I say and keep my head on his shoulder, because of all things, I don’t want to look at him and see that pity and speculation.

He’s afraid to say anything, afraid I’ll shut up and not finish this story. Afraid I’ll interpret what he says in the wrong way.

Because there’s no right way to respond to such a statement.

Blood drums in my head, whooshing like tidal waves slapping against the shore. I twist my ring again. Daddy’s ring. The one I wear to remind me of what I did.

No one knows everything about how I feel now, so many years after. Not even Mama. And really, who knows all there is to know about any life-altering moment. All my visual memories come at me in flashes of pain and regret.

A frozen image. Daddy on the floor, clumps of something tinged in red on the wall.

A frozen image. Papers scattered on the floor and across the bed.

A frozen image. His gold watch, the one Mama gave him for Christmas just six days earlier, shining so close to the hand that seemed to reach for the handgun a few feet away.

Daddy was a leftie. Like me.

“Makenna?” Aiden whispers against my head. “Baby.” He smoothes a hand over the back of my hair.

I straighten. “I need to get this all out. Don’t stop me.”

“I’m listening.”

I feel the
shiver, shiver, shiver
of the cold day from my memories. Each time I swallow, it’s like small cubes of ice scraping down my throat. “I was home after school. He’d waited all day to make sure I’d be there. Mama was still at her office. Daddy was supposed to be job-hunting all day, but he stayed home instead, because he didn’t feel well.”

Aiden’s arm tightens around me, but it doesn’t stop the chill that courses down my spine. How much do I tell him? Enough to keep him? Or enough to lose him?

“Daddy had been depressed over losing his job the year before and there was a second mortgage on the house and all that. I mean, he was taking anti-depressants and drinking, too. Valium and vodka, the toxic duo. One day after too much of his daily dose, he decided to shoot himself.”

I make my decision. I’ll tell enough to keep him. That’s all. It’d be cruel to tell him more. No one deserves to be so bitterly disappointed in another human being and I can’t do it to him.

Aiden lays his head against mine and rubs my upper arm. “It’s a lot for a kid to go through.”

“I hate these kinds of conversations. It’s the exact opposite of how you want to spend a date night. No one expects to hear all the dirty laundry soon in a relationship, but we’re moving so fast. I don’t want you to be blindsided.”

“I want to know all of it. You don’t have to worry about me being shocked or whatever you’re thinking.”

I take a deep breath, determined to get as much out as I can, all at once. “Life went downhill after that for a while. I’m sure you get the picture. I have a past that’ll never just disappear. For that reason, I have a very definite plan for the rest of my life.”

“Me, too. I know what I want. You’re the best thing that’s happened to me. I know we haven’t known each other long. I know—”

“Aiden. Stop. You should know my plan doesn’t include long-term relationships that end in marriage.”

He’s dead silent, so I continue before I chicken out. “Not marriage. Ever. So you and I can have a relationship. We can. But I need to know I have choices and I won’t have those if there’s a piece of paper tying us together.”

He freezes up—every muscle tightening around bone, his lungs ceasing their easy expansion. “I don’t understand.”

“It’s not a huge deal. It’s not like you asked me to marry you anyway. This arrangement is pretend so Nonna and Jared will be satisfied. I enjoy being with you. Sleeping with you. I can even promise you commitment. Monogamy. But I don’t want you to expect anything more serious in the future. As long as we agree, we’re good.”

Aiden sits up and I lose his body warmth. “People change their mind. They work through things. Maybe marriage wasn’t on your agenda in the past, but situations change. That’s what committed means.” He huffs and looks away, a little flushed and a lot frustrated. “I’m not your father. I’m not…I’m not going to off myself—”

“Off myself? Oh, don’t you go there.” His words close like a fingers folding around my throat. Of course, he’s nothing like my father. “I never compared you to my father.”

“I lost my dad, too. Granted, it wasn’t like what happened to you, but it didn’t make me swear off marriage. Baby,” he says and reaches toward me, then lets his hands drop when I don’t move. “After your dad, you went through counseling, right?”

I give him a steely stare, realizing that here on the sofa we’re still only physically inches apart but miles away in emotional distance.

“Of course I went through counseling. Of course I did.” I glance toward the hallway, but Ryder’s movie still plays on in the background. He’s probably fallen asleep by now.

Aiden waits for me to say something. Anything. But I don’t add that counseling ended after Mama lost the house. Now’s certainly not the time to explain about our months of living in the car. The months I wondered how we’d ever return to normalcy.

The months I blamed myself for letting Daddy die.

But everything is great now. Because I won’t be the one to ruin everything.

Aiden rubs a hand over his face. “This is what Jared meant that night at the hospital.”

I jerk as if I’ve been slapped. “What does that mean?” I struggle to scoot back, needing actual distance to glare at him.

“He said we didn’t have a future together. He seemed pretty sure.” Aiden raises a brow. “Sounds like he knows from experience. What are you afraid of?”

“Leave him out of this. He has nothing, nothing to do with this conversation. And I’m not afraid.” I scrabble to my feet, my hands shaking, my lips pressed tight, my throat closing…the walls closing in. “This conversation is over. I think you need to leave.”

I want to take the words back, but they’ve left my lips. This is it. The last time I told a guy to leave, I didn’t see him again for years. Jared never even called the next day.

He walked out the door and into another woman’s arms.

“No,” Aiden says, in that tone of one accustomed to making people listen. He rubs his hand over the back of his neck. “No, I’m not leaving with you upset. You can say what you want, but you’re not scaring me off.”

My mouth drops open. Then closes. My pulse
bang, bang, bangs
against the base of my throat. His eyes are so intense, a rush of emotion threatens to make me cry. And I don’t cry for anyone. About anyone.

Aiden blinks and stares down at his hands. He hops up and strides quickly to me.

He takes a step. My throat warbles in silence, like a mute songbird—it sings for me to let him in—and my eyes prick with tears. My focus drops to his boots, a blurry mess of brown leather.

He steps closer. “We have a chance at something spectacular. You know that, don’t you? This thing between us is what people search for and never find. I know what I’ve found in you. In you and Ryder. So you can forget getting rid of me over a few harsh words we both didn’t mean. I’m no quitter.” His low voice rumbles along my skin, caresses me until I lift my gaze to his. “Let me hold you for just a minute. OK?”

I give the tiniest nod. I can’t speak. I won’t, because if I do, all the dark thoughts—the doubts about myself—will spill out.

He wraps strong arms around me, pulling me against his chest and leaning his forehead against mine. A sound escapes my throat.

What a way to go, Mak. You sound like a dying goat.

Heavier tears slide down my cheeks, and he pulls back to swipe both his thumbs across my face. “If you had any idea at all what these tears do to me, you’d stop. You’re ripping great big holes through my heart. Nobody as sweet as you should be looking so sad.”

“Hey, I’m fine,” I grunt out in an unattractive bleat. “And I’m not very sweet.”

“You made me pie, remember?”

I sniffle, letting the last tremor in my breath escape before taking a huge gulp. “I make pie for everybody.”

“Well then, that’s about to change. No one else gets pie. Only me and Ryder. I’m special. Admit it.”

“Your head is made from granite. You and Ryder are a lot alike.” I snake my hands along the sides of his waist and around to his back. Heat radiates from his skin. “My mama says Ryder’s the most stubborn individual she’s ever known. He’d stare down a rock in his path and hope it moves.”

Aiden squares his hips to my body and places his feet on each side of mine in a human shelter. “It’s called being determined. It’s pretty awesome, isn’t it.”

“Yeah,” I whisper and press my cheek against his shirt and enjoy his strength and the way my head fits perfectly underneath his chin.

He traces the ridges of my shoulder bones, my spine, and my ribs like he’s reading the braille of me. “Let’s relax for a minute. I think…and it’s speculation on my part, that we’re both afraid. Not just you.”

“Tell me, Aiden Alesini. What scares a guy like you?”

“Failure. Losing. The feeling I had a minute ago when I you were pushing me away. I wasn’t exaggerating when I said I’m not a quitter. I knew from the very first time I watched you singing on the Dastardly’s stage, that you were going to be worth whatever it takes. Great things happen with great effort. You and I are destined for something great.”

“You realize you sound like an inspirational T-shirt.” There’s not a bit of mockery in my tone. It’s more awe that this guy believes he can overcome anything.

“Let’s take this like you’re starting a new fitness program. We’ll map out steady increments of building up your tolerance. Tear down muscle to build it up stronger,” he says in an even tone fitting a medical diagnosis.

“I don’t follow.”

“With my clients, no one
begins
by doing an hour of hardcore weight lifting followed by an hour run.”

“Unless you’re trying to kill them. Or maybe that’s only my personal limits.”

“You’re right. I teach my clients their limits. I think you and I need to build trust in increments, one rep, one pound, one feeling or secret or confession at a time.” He leads me to back to the sofa and pushes me gently to sit. He folds into the space beside me. “We jumped into this relationship fast.” He looks embarrassed for a second, an almost imperceptible aversion of the eyes. “I dove all in. It’s how I do things.”

“You don’t think I’m into you? I haven’t dated since Jared. And we didn’t really date. That was more like a business arrangement that ended up in the bedroom.”

He looks at the ceiling. “I’m trying not to hate that guy. He still wants you.”

A scoffing sound escapes me. “Jared doesn’t.”

“He wants me to train him so he can get to know me. He acts like it’s all about Ryder. I’m thinking maybe I should be the bigger man and do it for Ryder, so the two men in his life will get along.”

I squint at him as if the narrowing of my eyes will help my hearing, because there is no way he said what I heard. “You can’t be serious.”

“Oh, but I am. I doubt we’ll ever hang around together on a Saturday night, but maybe it would be good for our future if he and I get along. It’s tough to do a lot of machismo and marking territory while on a weight bench.”

“I think it’s a bad idea.” I reach over and rest my hand on his thigh. “It’s sweet of you to make the effort, but I really don’t expect you to do that.”

He grabs my hand and threads our fingers together. “It’s not about you. It’s about me and Ryder. I’d like to do it for him.”

“Mommy?”

Ryder’s sleepy voice startles me since I didn’t even hear him enter the room. He stands in the doorway with his pants missing and wearing only one sock, a plastic dinosaur clutched in his hand.

“What happened to your movie?” I rise from the sofa and turn to Aiden. “I guess I need to get him bathed and ready for bed. You can wait, or if you want to head out I understand.”

This is my life focus—motherhood. I could honestly put Ryder to bed without a bath and do it in the morning. But if Aiden wants to go forward, he needs to get this. Live this.

Parenting responsibilities don’t register until you cope with a cranky kid, clean up vomit, or celebrate a full night of sleep.

“Can I do something to help?” he asks. He puts his hands on his hips in a not-going-anywhere stance.

“Oh…OK.” I hesitate as I try to imagine having him help me. “I guess you can…” I trail off again.

What am I going to tell him? Pass me the washcloth? It’s not actually a two-person job.

He strolls across the room to squat so he’s eye level with Ryder. Ryder hands him the orange and brown dinosaur. “Thanks, big man.”

Aiden tilts his face up to me. “You tell me what to do and I’ll do it. Consider me in training.”

Training. He has no idea that you simply jump into this.

“Go pick two bath toys,” I say to Ryder. “Only two,” I repeat.

“No bath.” Ryder runs back to his bedroom.

“Aiden’s going to help!” I yell after him.

“Aid-en,” Ryder yells like a samurai warrior charging into battle and disappears into his room.

“He loves bath time,” I say to discredit Ryder’s action. “Once he’s in the tub, you can hardly get him out. The problem is the getting him in there.”

Aiden stands and grins as he looks down the hall. “I’m trying to remember bath time as a kid. I don’t really remember toys being part of it.”

“This will be fun then,” I say with a bit of sarcasm. “He will fight going in and fight coming out. Cold water and pruned skin, here we come.”

“Good times. I’m ready.” Aiden stands straighter, adopts a serious expression, and claps his hands together like a guy ready to climb a mountain. He follows me into the small bathroom which grows exponentially smaller with two adults taking up space.