Chapter Thirty-Seven

Aiden

A iden: Are you home?

Bec: I’m about to be, why?

Aiden: I need your help. I have too much food and someone needs to help me eat it.

Bec: Are you trying to spring an impromptu date on me, Price?

Aiden: This isn’t a date, this is survival. You need to eat and I do too. It’s science.

Bec: I would normally prefer to play hard to get…but I’m starving.

Aiden: Good answer because I’m already here.

Bec: Creep much?

Aiden: You’re late for our date. Let’s go, Miller.

* * *

“I don’t want you to take this the wrong way, because those baseball uniforms are really out there doing the most, but you waiting in front of my apartment with food in hand may be the sexiest you’ve ever looked,” Bec says as she walks up to the entrance to her apartment building. I follow her inside and show her my most confident grin .

“I aim to please.” I lean down to whisper in her ear as we step onto the elevator. “Does this mean you’re googling me?” I can’t help but tease her. She looks cute red with embarrassment.

“Ugh, forget I said anything. I have loose lips when I’m hangry. Let’s get upstairs and eat before I stick my foot in my mouth again, please.”

“If you keep talking about your lips and your mouth, we might not make it to dinner.”

“Tempting, but not tempting enough to distract me from what’s in your hands. I need a shit ton of calories to forget about this shit show of a day. Preferably 50 percent of that comes from chocolate. What’s in the bag?” she asks while unlocking her door to let us into her apartment. She leads us into the kitchen, and I drop the bags onto the counter.

“Fettuccine alfredo and chocolate eclairs. Does that pass the Bec test?”

“God, you’re perfect. Thank you for this,” she says as she pulls out plates and utensils, placing them on the counter next to the food.

“Rough day?” I ask, unpacking the take-out containers.

“Yeah,” she says with a sigh, running her fingers through her hair and then leaning her palms on the countertop. “New Hope just lost a huge sponsor, so we’re scrambling a bit to find replacement funding. It’s not just the event. The entire organization’s operations will be impacted by this.”

“Oh wow, I’m sorry. That’s tough,” I say, crossing my arms and leaning my hip against the kitchen island.

“The staff are optimistic, or at least they’re acting that way. Maybe they’re trying to manifest the money with positive affirmations and all that. Or they’re too scared to admit the reality of the situation out loud. I don’t know…we’ll have to secure so many smaller donations to replace the one we lost. It’s going to eat up a lot of resources and we’re already running thin on coverage to manage the influx of animals. Sorry, I’m rambling.” She inhales deeply then lets out a heavy breath, her shoulders dramatically falling with her exhale. “It’ll be fine. We’ll just keep pushing forward. We’ll make it work.” I can hear the undercurrent of anxiety in every word she’s saying.

“How can I help?” I ask, leaning forward and tucking her hair behind her ear. She turns into my touch, closing her eyes for a few seconds before looking back at me.

“You’re sweet, you know that? Keep surprising me with pasta and chocolate, that’ll help more than you know.”

That’s not enough. Not even remotely enough. But I’ll let it go for now.

“Not a big fan of cooking?” I ask with a laugh.

“Not unless you want your food burned to a crisp or dangerously undercooked. I’m afraid there is no happy medium with me. You’ve been warned.”

“Noted. Takeout it is.”

“You seem to know your way around the kitchen, enough to make breakfast at least.”

“My mom loves to cook. Well, she used to. Evie has all of her old recipes. She always included us in some way. Some of my earliest memories are from cooking with her. My dad expected it, and I wanted to help her.”

“You don’t talk about him much,” she says cautiously.

“Yeah, I guess I try not to.”

I don’t know why I even mentioned my father. As usual, being around Bec causes me to drop any filters I usually use to keep any memory of him buried away.

“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to pry,” she says, stepping back, giving me space.

“No, really, it’s okay. Some people don’t deserve to stay in your story. The healthiest thing to do sometimes is to walk away like my mom did. It wasn’t easy, but she made it,” I say with conviction, stepping toward Bec, removing the space she put between us.

“I wish she didn’t have to go through that. I can’t imagine how hard that was for her and for you too.”

“She’s the strongest person I know.” The sudden swell of emotion tightens my whole chest. How can I go from teasing and joking around with Bec, to throwing my darkest memories onto the floor in front of her. Talking to her, sharing everything with her is too easy. “Their relationship was toxic. His behavior and their arguments were only escalating. She finally had enough and thankfully found the support she needed to get us away before things got worse. She knew what he was capable of and didn’t want to stay to see it.”

I feel her arms wrap around my waist before I hear her whisper against my chest, “Aiden, god, I’m so sorry. You were so young. I can’t imagine what that was like for you. I’m glad the three of you got out of that situation.”

I wrap my arms around her shoulders and rest my chin on her head, squeezing her back. Holding her against me, the relief is indescribable. She’s a balm on the burns life’s given me. “It’s all right.”

She pulls away to look up at me, but keeps her body close, holding onto me tightly. “No, it’s not. You all didn’t deserve to be put in that situation by someone that’s supposed to love you. Someone that’s supposed to be safe.”

“We found our safety with each other. In our new lives without him.” I shake off the ache of vulnerability and turn back to the food. I don’t want her to see too much. To see how much my past scares me. How it haunts me. How terrified I am of turning out anything like the man who was supposed to be my role model, but turned out to be angry, selfish, and unkind. The man who could let his family walk away with nothing from him but cruel words and bad memories. “I didn’t mean to ruin the pasta with all my baggage.”

“I’m glad you told me. I don’t want you to ever feel like you have to share more than you want to, but I want you to know that I see you. The way you talk about your mom and your sister like they’re the roots, the foundation holding you steady. It’s really beautiful how the three of you made it through all that and came out stronger together as a family. Don’t apologize for your story. Besides, there is nothing you could say to ruin pasta.”

With a chuckle, my shoulders drop with relief at the shift in conversation. How does she make that so easy? She manages to take the heavy and make it lighter. It’s still there—it’ll always be there—but she makes it tolerable. I carry the food and plates while she grabs us drinks, and we settle on her couch, spreading the take-out containers across her coffee table.

“Um, Bec. I gotta ask…what’s going on here?” I point back and forth across her window while she spoons food onto our plates.

“Oh, had you not noticed my plant graveyard?”

“I would say I’m shocked I missed it, but you know, Hopper running around with your vibrator like he was in an eight-hundred-meter relay was a little distracting.”

“Not my fault you haven’t taught your pup manners,” she sings.

“As his dog trainer, I would strongly disagree with that,” I say with a smirk.

“I’ve trained a lot of dogs, Aiden…believe me, that was a first. I’m not adding that lesson to the curriculum. Besides, you’ve been here twice. I can’t believe you wouldn’t notice.”

“Yeah, well, I was distracted during that visit too.”

“By what?”

“You. All I could think about was how badly I wanted to kiss you.”

She tries to hold back her smile and fails beautifully.

“Listen, I was just trying to add some good energy into my apartment,” she says. “I got jealous of all those plant moms online with their earthy vibes and green thumbs. I was told that I was safe to start with a cactus and succulents. I was promised those fuckers were all hard to kill.”

“I hate to tell you this, but they are. They’re built for neglect.”

“Well, apparently I’m an inhospitable roommate to everyone but Hopper.”

“You’re telling me you can take care of numerous dogs at the Center and New Hope, but the plants in your window can’t get an ice cube once a week?”

“I tried,” she yells around a mouthful of pasta, pointing at the offending plant remains with her fork. “They ganged up on me. They were all on different schedules. I think I confused them and overwatered some and dehydrated the others.”

“Okay…but why are they still there?”

“I’m holding out hope, man. I still put an ice cube in there when I think about it. If they’re so hardy, then they can reinvent themselves, have their midmovie makeover, and show up better than ever. What a comeback, right?”

“That would be…something.” I eye her skeptically, my voice dripping with sarcasm.

“You just wait. That one on the end there. He hasn’t given up yet. I swear that branch is a little greener today.”

“Sure, Bec, I’ll keep my eye on him. So, what’s the plan for the event now with the change in funding?”

She lets her head fall on a groan, before looking back at me. “It’ll be a hectic few weeks while we scramble to find donations before the event. Abby and I are going to hit up a few local businesses and basically beg for their support. We’ll try to piecemeal this until the staff find a long-term solution. My brother also agreed to increase his company’s contributions. Every little bit will help. ”

“I’d like to chip in too. How much do you need?” I ask, before taking a bite of pasta.

She jerks back, seemingly shocked I would offer at all. “Aiden, no. I can’t take your money while…while we’re…”

“While we’re what, Bec?” I ask, arching an eyebrow in her direction, daring her to admit what we’re becoming…what we are to each other already.

“While we’re…talking.”

“Hmm…that’s right…talking. Conversations with you are certainly my favorite.”

“Aiden, be serious, I can’t accept a donation from you—that’d be wrong. I’m not telling you about all this so you’ll throw your money at me. Just…just let me work with New Hope. We’ll figure this out.”

“Why would that be wrong? It’s okay to rely on other people sometimes, Bec. You think I’m playing professional ball because I did it all on my own? Fuck no, I had help from more people than I can count. It’s more than okay to ask for help. And it’s okay to accept an offer when it’ll be useful for what we both know is a great cause. Let me help, Bec.”

“I don’t know. It feels weird. How about you just come to the event and get Hop a sibling? Help in that way.”

“As much as I would love that, Hopper needs my full attention right now, especially with my schedule picking back up soon. But I’ll be there for whatever else you need.”

I didn’t expect Bec to draw a line between her professional life and me. There’s no reason I wouldn’t want to lend a hand to a cause as great as this when I have plenty to give. But a small part of me does feel relieved to know she isn’t eager to dive into my wallet. Not that I ever thought she would be—I know Bec isn’t that type of person—but after a few dates gone wrong, it’s something I steer clear of when it becomes obvious .

“Having you there in a show of support will be more than enough. I…I really appreciate you being such a great listener.”

Bec gives me an idea—unintentionally, I’m sure. She doesn’t know it yet, but there’s nothing I wouldn’t do to support her. This is just our beginning.