Chapter Sixty-Two

Aiden

“ Y ou fly home later tonight. Is that right?” David asks.

“That’s right,” I confirm.

“And are you still planning to see Bec?”

“I haven’t asked her yet, but I plan on it.”

My stomach is tied into one giant fucking knot thinking about seeing her again, the rush of conflicting emotions is overwhelming. She hasn’t sounded angry with me in our text messages these past few weeks, but how could she not be? I’ve taken forever to get my head on straight and I’m still not certain I’ll be able to talk to her without fucking everything up.

I know I need to do two things: I need to see Bec and I need to see my mom.

I have to make sure Bec knows that I love her. All I can do is hope she forgives me for not saying it sooner and for how I acted when she confessed to loving me first.

Evie has been to visit Mom several times, but I haven’t gone with her. I’ve been too terrified to face the possibility of repeating history. I feel so goddamn selfish. My family needs me and I’ve been too much of a coward to be with them .

But Dom was right. Today is only my second time talking with David, his therapist—and I guess mine now too—and I know he was right to suggest I make an appointment. David has explained that it’ll take some time before we can dig into the root of what I’m struggling with, but he’s helped me talk about what’s going on right now in a way that doesn’t make me want to shut down. He asked me what I want my life to look like and helped me plan what my next few steps will need to be to help make that happen. It’s not a quick fix, but he seems like a nice guy, and I think this could be good for me.

David summarizes everything we talked about today and we schedule another appointment for next week before ending the virtual session. I pack up my shit, head from the hotel to the airport, and run through what I want to say to Bec probably a hundred times on the flight home.

When I get back to my apartment, Hopper is there to greet me, but just like every other time I’ve come home these past few weeks, Bec’s not with him. I want this to be the last time I come home to find that she’s not here too.

I never told her not to be here, but after that first night we decided to spend the night apart, she texted me to tell me she understood that I needed time, that she’d be waiting for me when I was ready to talk, and that I can tell her when I’m ready to have that conversation.

This woman is too fucking perfect to be real.

I’ve wanted to call her and beg her to see me, to sit with me and let me hold her without saying anything. But that’s not fair to her. I owe her an explanation. I need to be able to talk about this shit. She deserves more than I’ve had to give. I’m going to dig deep and try my best and hope that she still loves me despite everything I still need to figure out.

“It’s time we got our girl back,” I say to Hop, who wags his tail in agreement. I crouch low and wrap my arms around my faithful companion, mumbling a soft thank-you into his fur. God, I love this dog. “Wish me luck,” I say with a pet on his head before I head out to hopefully bring Bec home with me for good.

* * *

I heave a heavy breath out in an attempt to calm my racing heart as I stand in front of Bec’s apartment.

I didn’t text her. I was too scared she’d say not to come over.

I need to see her…even if she turns me away.

I give myself another ten seconds before I knock on her door. All the effort I made to temper my nerves is shot when I hear the soft patter of her feet approaching.

I keep my head down, bracing for rejection. I know she’s probably peeking through her door to see who could be knocking this late. I wouldn’t blame her if she didn’t open the door at all.

After a few more seconds, relief flows through me as she opens the door and my entire body reacts to her nearness.

Bec is always beautiful, but when she’s like this…hair a mess of curls falling out of a knot at the top of her head, her faded, holey T-shirt hanging halfway down her thick thighs, and pajama shorts that just barely meet the same length as her shirt, her perfect legs on display looking so good I want to drape them over my shoulders and down my back…this is exactly what I want to come home to every day for the rest of my life.

“Aiden,” she says quietly.

“Can I come in?” I ask, barely able to make eye contact.

Please say yes.

She doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t move to let me in. One second, she’s frozen, standing in the doorway, holding onto the frame for support, and the next, she’s launching herself into my arms, wrapping her arms tightly around my shoulders, her head tucked into the base of my neck.

I immediately wrap my arms around her, holding her tightly against me.

“You’re here,” she whispers, disbelief in her tone.

“I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry it took me so long.” I don’t trust the shake in my voice as emotions wash over me and fluctuate too quickly for me to name.

All I can make out is this overwhelming feeling of comfort…like I’m taking my first full breath in weeks…like I’m finally coming home.

“Let’s not do this here.” She pulls away and takes my hand, tugging me into her apartment after her. “Come in.”

I take off my backpack, and we sit on her couch in awkward silence, but she’s still holding my hand as she faces me, one leg tucked underneath herself. I drape one arm along the back of her couch, playing with one of her loose curls with my free hand.

“I have so much I want to say. It’s hard to know where to start,” I say.

“Take your time,” she says.

“When we met, you asked about my favorite memory. I shocked myself when I told you about my birthday like that. I hadn’t thought about that day in so long. It was painful to think about that time in my life. Even though it was a great day, the memory always felt tainted by the other shit that was going on at the time. But then you asked…and it just spilled out. You have this way of drawing things out of me that I wish I could bury. The day my mom forgot who I was…I wanted to bury that memory so deep it couldn’t ever hurt again. I didn’t want to talk about it. I didn’t want to face it.”

“It’s okay,” she says softly, squeezing my hand. When I look up, she’s crying quietly. Tears slowly falling. Then I realize, I’m crying too .

“It’s okay,” she repeats, nodding for me to go on.

“I didn’t want to face it. But then you were there, telling me you love me. Something I’ve only dreamed you could feel about me. I’m so fucking sorry I couldn’t say it back. I couldn’t process what was happening. I panicked and all I could feel was this…dread. This needling fear that maybe I really am my father’s son, and one day I would hurt everyone around me. You don’t deserve that. I couldn’t hear you tell me you loved me when in that moment, all I could feel was how much I hated myself and who I was afraid I could become.

“You have no idea how much it means to me, knowing you love…knowing you loved me. I wish with my entire fucking body that I could take back what I said to you. I wish I was able to talk about this right then and there. I…I’m talking to someone now, a therapist. I’m getting help because I need it…because I want to be a better man. Bec, when I do finally tell you how I feel about you, I want to be someone who deserves to say those words to you.”

“Aiden, I’m happy for you, and I’m incredibly proud of you for getting help. Everything you’ve gone through, it’d be a lot for anyone to take on. I want to support you with whatever you need. As far as you deserving to say those words…and to hear those words from me…I want you to know that I don’t need you to be perfect to love you. I’m never going to be perfect either. I think what matters is that we’re perfect for each other. The fact that you know how scared I’ve been of getting hurt and that you were worried about me enough to pull away when you were scared that you were going to be the one to hurt me, I appreciate that more than you know.”

“I felt out of control, and I was terrified I was going to turn out to be just like him,” I say.

“I don’t think you’re capable of making the same mistakes as him, but I understand why you’d have that fear. We’ll work through it.”

“You still want to be with me? I didn’t know if I had taken too long to figure out what I needed to do,” I say meekly.

“I trust you, Aiden. When you asked for time, I knew you needed it. I knew I wanted to be here for you when you were ready. If our relationship has taught me anything, it’s that I know I can count on you.”

“I promise it won’t be like this again,” I say, my voice steady. “I hope with everything that I have, that there won’t be a next time with Mom like this, but if there is, I’ll learn how to handle it better. I won’t shut everyone out like that.”

“You had us all worried,” she admits, empathy clear in the way she’s thumbing the back of my hand and watching me with understanding.

“I’m sorry,” I say.

“Don’t be. You’re here now.”

“I am, and I’m not going anywhere. Except to get you this.” I grab my backpack and bring it over to her. “I brought you something.” When I dump the contents of my backpack onto her small coffee table, she bursts out laughing.

“Aiden, what the hell is this?” she asks, holding up one of the bags of chips.

“I didn’t know what my mood snacker would want, so I bought one of everything at the airport for her. Well, I stopped when I couldn’t fit anymore.”

“And you thought you weren’t perfect,” she jokes, grabbing a Twix from the pile.

After talking for a while longer, I ask Bec to come home with me to stay the night. To my relief, she’s ecstatic and runs to her room to grab her stuff. As much as I’ve missed her in my bed, I missed being with her more. We spend the night holding each other. Occasionally waking to talk more about everything we’ve struggled with both in the last few weeks and beyond; how we want to work on our own issues together, the things we missed in each other’s lives over the last few weeks, and sometimes just pulling each other closer and lying in comfortable silence. It’s everything I needed, and the way Bec relaxes against me and tucks her head in closer to me at every opportunity gives me hope that maybe it’s what she needs too.

The next morning, she offers to come with me to visit my mom. I cling to her like a lifeline as we check in at the front desk.

I don’t know what’ll happen when Mom sees me today, but I know that with Bec by my side, I’m stronger.

The office staff recognize both of us instantly and offer us a warm greeting. When I look at Bec, confused because she hasn’t been here often enough to warrant that kind of response, she shrugs sheepishly. She confesses to having visited Mom several times a week while I was unable to, often bringing one of the Center’s certified therapy dogs with her.

It takes every shred of self-control I have not to blurt out right then and there how fucking gone I am for Bec. How she’s worked herself into every bone and muscle in my body. How I love her more than I ever knew was possible.

But I have other plans for that confession.

Bec gave me exactly what I needed to get through one of the worst fucking times of my life. She showed me more compassion, patience, and love than I could ever ask for. I want her to grasp the depth of what I feel for her just as strongly when I finally tell her.

She holds my hand as we step into Mom’s room to find her reading in her rocker.

Mom’s eyes lock with mine and her eyes light up brightly with recognition.

“Aiden, sweetheart. I’ve missed you,” she says with so much love, my heart nearly bursts out of my chest.

“I missed you, too, Mom,” I choke out as tears threaten to roll down my face. She stands, hugs me close, and I fall apart in my mother’s arms.