Chapter Seven

Of all the places we could have gone to in Denver, of course we walk into the one where Aiden sits with his friends in a darkened corner. For a minute I think maybe the ladies set it up this way, but one glance at Chantelle’s face tells me they weren’t expecting them either. It was sort of silly to think they wouldn’t be at their favorite place.

I bite my lip and try to look away from the hockey players taking up residence in a corner booth, but I’ve already been pegged by a few of the ladies who don’t know my past with Aiden yet.

Stevie, one of the Denver Darlings soccer players, glances over her shoulder to see what I’m staring at, then swivels back with a smile. “All of those guys are taken except for the hot Irish guy. He never, ever dates, which makes him the best dance partner here.” She nods toward him and asks, “Want me to see if he’ll dance with you?” before cramming fries into her mouth.

“Uh, no. Thank you though.” I sip my drink and work hard to think about anything but dancing with the hot Irish guy.

“Does anyone know his story? Even Vander says he’s not sure why Aiden doesn’t date,” Greer, Evander’s wife, says. If Evander knows anything now, he obviously hasn’t told his wife.

Freya and Chantelle purposely do not make eye contact with me, but I can’t let them lie to their closest friends. Especially if I hope to remain a part of this group, this family of friends who seem to support each other through everything. I can’t say for sure that I am the reason Aiden doesn’t date, but I do know I’m a huge part of his past. His mysterious past that the ladies at this table find most interesting.

I clear my throat. “He’s actually my ex,” I say, earning a gasp from Gwen. Myra almost falls out of her chair but manages to catch herself before planting on her rear end.

“Did you say he’s your ex? As in you’ve dated him? When? How?” Ronnie asks, glancing around to see if this is news to everyone.

“We dated when we were in high school together, almost got married,” I admit before giving them a little more detail about my past, including my psychotic ex, Stephen, and my controlling father who cannot get over the fact that I did not want to become a world famous professional ballet dancer like my mother.

The men keep stealing glances our way—three of whom have wives or girlfriends in our group—but Aiden keeps his eyes to himself.

“Do you want to go back to our place?” Stevie asks. “We can have just as much fun there, maybe cook a few burgers or something?” She’s sweet, but a small, primal part of me wants to shake her half to death until she gives me all of the details about her relationship with Aiden. Surely, she wouldn’t have offered to set me up to dance with him if she were interested, but I can’t shake the monster that wakes inside of me.

“Actually, I think I need to go home. I was planning to talk to him before meeting the rest of the team, but having this moment shoved in my face isn’t exactly how I had planned it.”

“Of course. I can take you home but wouldn’t it be better to get it all over with?” Freya asks.

The door swings open and more of the guys enter, all Dragons who either got a call from their friends or they got bored without the ladies and decided to do something together. They merge with the four already in the booth. Aiden is either hidden by them or has left because I don’t see him at the table anymore.

“Okay, never mind. This is probably too much too soon. Let’s get you—”

Freya is interrupted by a mellow voice with an unmistakable accent. “Finchley,” he whispers, earning my attention. I close my eyes as the table goes silent. There’s a sort of reverence to this moment I never anticipated, a reckoning that is undeniable, and the weight of two worlds—his and mine—collide in one word. I inhale and open my eyes, locking with his.

“Hello, Aiden.”

He flinches as the stab of calling him Aiden hits him. I haven’t called him Aiden since our early days of tutoring, but he hasn’t called me Finchley in just as long. Our nicknames for one another took hold and never lessened…until now, it seems.

“Aiden,” he says, eyes narrowed, testing as if to see if I’ll change my mind and call him Ace like I used to. Well, I can’t. It’s too painful to think back on the days I spent watching him at practice, attending his games, cheering for him when he was the best player on the ice.

He swallows and nods towards the door. “Can we talk for a moment?”

All eyes are on us, both the ladies and the Dragons, all staring with rapt curiosity. The whole tavern has gone quiet, watching us. If it weren’t for that, I’d say no, but oddly, going anywhere with Aiden feels a lot more comfortable than sitting still while dozens of eyeballs wait to see what happens next. I nod, and he offers his arm. It’s such an Aiden thing to do, I can’t stop my smile. It annoys me, but it doesn’t change that I cannot hold it back.

I slip my arm in his and let him lead me outside. It’s cool, but not uncomfortable for conversation. Still, it’s public so it’s probably not a good place to rehash our entire history, pick apart what happened, and figure out what happens from here. This is about work. I’ll keep it short, make sure he knows I came here for a job and that’s it.

Liar. It’s so much more than a job. I squeeze my eyes shut again, take a deep breath, and prepare.

I open my eyes, but one gaze in his direction and I’m toast. Of course I didn’t come here for a job. I can lie to everyone, even myself, but my dusty heart beats stronger, wilder, deeper with him this close to me. He smells the same, stands the same, looks at me the same way he always has and if not for the lamppost that I casually lean on, I’d melt into a puddle at his feet all over again. I hate what he did to me, hate that I still feel this way about him, hate that I can’t read his mind but I can’t hate him.

I have a speech prepared for this. I perfected it on the way to the tavern to have it ready when I confronted him tomorrow, but now works just as well. I’ll explain to him why I took the job, that my father is hunting me down like a bounty hunter, and my ex-fiancé—not him but another one—will drag me back to my father kicking and screaming if he finds me. I’ll tell him that I planned to tell him I’m the new mascot, that it wasn’t supposed to go down this way, and all I want to do is fit into this organization and live my life on my terms.

“Finchley, I—”

Two words and softened brown eyes locked on mine, and my speech falls apart.

“You were my best friend. The love of my life. I needed you more than I needed air, and you left me with nothing. You were the only good thing in my life, and you stole what little happiness I had right out from under me.”

He opens his mouth, but I’m not done.

“You didn’t even miss me. I cried myself to sleep every single night with that on my mind. You left, and maybe I might have understood it in some part if I thought you actually missed me. But you never called, never wrote, not even an email.”

He waits, probably to see if I have more to say before shaking his head. “I’ve missed you every day since the last moment I saw you.”

Anger boils within me, a fight inside that says I have to prove him wrong. “You didn’t. If you missed me, you would have come back eventually. I stood at the church for three hours waiting for you until my father came to pick me up.”

Aiden takes a step forward. I press my body harder against the light post, willing it to swallow me up.

“I didn’t come back, that’s true. It doesn’t mean I didn’t miss you, and it bloody well doesn’t mean I didn’t want to.”

I huff and utter the most sarcastic laugh I can muster. “You didn’t even call.” My voice cracks, but I bite back every emotion clogging in my throat.

“Leaving you was the biggest mistake of my life. I can look back as an adult and see things I didn’t when I was young and stupid.”

Pain slices my heart in pieces, but there isn’t much of it left to destroy. It’s already been beaten, bruised, and kicked around more than any heart deserves. “If it was a mistake and you missed me, then why didn’t you come back? If you were nervous or worried about marrying me, we could have talked about it. I would have forgiven you, Aiden.”

His jaw tenses and he balls his fists at his sides. There is nothing about him that sparks even an ounce of fear in me. The heat in his eyes, how his shoulders shift when he breathes in anger, none of it scares me. Aiden would never lay a hand on any woman, least of all me.

Even now. I see it in how he looks at me.

“I couldn’t come back. I could never ask you to forgive me.”

A sob chokes free as hot tears slide over my cheeks. “That doesn’t even make sense.”

“Don’t you understand? I died inside, and now all I can hope for is a meager existence with a few friends until I die in earnest.” He runs both hands down his face and shakes out his frustration before stepping close enough that his breath warms my forehead. “You don’t go around asking for forgiveness you don’t deserve, Birdie. And if there is anyone who deserves it less, it’s me.”

Birdie.

His Birdie. The nickname started in a fun game of teasing, but it stuck.

I shudder a breath and glance to my right to find half the tavern with their noses pressed against the window, watching us.

“Oh, my gosh,” I whisper and cover my face with both hands. “This is the exact opposite of laying low and maintaining anonymity.”

“Come on. We need to talk privately,” Aiden says. “Did you drive?”

“No, Freya brought me.”

“Message her. Tell her I’m taking you home.”

“Aiden, I don’t think that’s a good idea.” I say, pushing off the lamppost.

“I didn’t ask if it was a good idea, love. It’s probably a horrible idea, but that won’t stop until we leave,” he says, pointing towards the window full of people behaving like kids, staring at a Christmas display in a department store, gawking at all of the fun new things.

I have no doubt he speaks the truth, so I accept his arm again and let him lead me to his Mustang parked in the lot. I fire off a quick message to Freya and shove my phone in my pocket with my wallet. As we approach the car, my entire body tingles. It’s been years since I sat in that passenger seat, but when he opens the door and I slip inside, it still feels like home.

I don’t miss how his throat clicks on a swallow, leaning in to help me with the buckle. “It uh, still sticks.”

“So I see,” I say, sinking into the seat so he can easily lean over and yank the seatbelt into place. “Still haven’t gotten this thing fixed up. Why not?”

He turns his head to reply, but like this, with him half inside the car, leaning over me to adjust the tricky belt, we’re far too close to be locking gazes. His playoff beard and his lips brush against my cheek. He pulls back slightly and freezes. He still hasn’t answered my question, and I have a good feeling he doesn’t even remember what it was.

“Um, thanks,” I say, breaking his stare.

He clears his throat and stands. “The guys’ll give me a good slagging about this tomorrow, but it needs to be done.”

“My place is fine.” My gaze cuts up to him. “You know the way. Most of it at least.”

He chuckles and something eases in my heart. I don’t know what’s going to happen, but he’s here. He’s willing to talk. He seems just as confused and busted up as I do, and if what the ladies said was true, there’s some reason he hasn’t dated anyone else.

Aiden moves into the driver’s seat and starts the car, but I can’t wait until we reach my place to start working through this jumbled mess of history.

“The girls say you never date. Actually, it was Stevie who brought it up when she offered to set me up with you. To dance, I mean, not to date.” I can’t hide the jealousy that laces the question. And he knows. It’s not the first time he’s heard my jealous tone.

He grins and pulls onto the main road. “Stevie is a dear friend, a sweet lass who is most certainly the apple of someone’s eye, even if she doesn’t know it yet. We dance, yes, but only because she feels safe with me.”

“Safe?”

“Aye. I’m a proper gentleman, believe it or not.” He smirks, tossing that thing around like it doesn’t have an impact on a woman. Nice to see he still knows how to use it. “Are you jealous, Birdie?”

He doesn’t even realize he’s calling me Birdie. It’s ingrained in his speech, his reflexes. It’s just the same as calling me Finchley, so I can’t bust him on it.

“I’m not jealous. We aren’t together anymore, Aiden. You can date anyone you want.”

“But I don’t. My heart has belonged to you since we met.” It drips off of his tongue like honey, sweet and smooth. He says it with such finality, I almost believe him. If it were true, though, wouldn’t he have wanted to fight to keep me? To get me back?

“Why did you leave? My father said he gave you half a million dollars to skip town, that you didn’t even think twice, and only a few weeks later, you were signed by the Dragons. Obviously, I didn’t believe it. None of it ever settled right with me but something went wrong.”

He’s silent for a while, taking the turns he remembers. “Birdie, if that man gave me half a million dollars, I’d like to know where he deposited it.”

It isn’t as if I believed that line, but I couldn’t fathom anything different. “Right, but why would he even need to lie? His dream came true. You left.”

He clenches his jaw again and looks at me. “Love, we’re goin’ to need a strong pot of coffee and a few hours to work this out. Tell me how to get the rest of the way to your place, and I’ll split me guts out for you. Every detail, every word, everything you want or need to know, but I need you to know one thing before we get there and dive into this head first.”

“What’s that?”

“I’m not going leave you again.” He glances at me and I know it’s true. Whatever happens from this moment on, he’s not going anywhere.