The Wall of Winnipeg and Me: A Novel

“You’re up early,” I noted dryly as Zac dragged his feet behind him into the kitchen.

The big Texan raised two sleepy eyebrows in my direction. If I didn’t know any better, the expression on his face would lead me to think he was drunk, but he was just really tired. “Mm-hmm.”

Okay. Someone wasn’t in the mood to talk, and that was fine by me. It wasn’t like I’d woken up in a fantastic state of mind. It didn’t help that the first thing I did after I was awake was call Diana’s brother so I could tell him about what I’d seen the day before, only for him to let me know that one of his sons had already told him about them a couple days ago.

“I tried talking to her, but she said she hit her hip,” he’d explained.

So she was keeping her story straight; I still didn’t believe it. “I don’t believe her.”

Her brother had made a hesitant sound that left a bad taste in my mouth. “I don’t know, Van. I don’t like that douche as much as you do, but I don’t think D would lie about it.”

That was the problem with growing up in a family that was usually honest and open with each other—you didn’t know the lengths someone would go to hide something shameful. And I knew right then that unless Diana blatantly told her brother that Jeremy was getting physical, or unless she ended up with a black eye, he wouldn’t assume the worst.

The conversation had been pointless, only adding to the aggravation simmering under my veins for days. I was perfectly fine admitting to myself that when I hadn’t been tossing and turning last night, I’d been wide awake, thinking about all the things I shouldn’t. All the things I knew better than to let bother me, but it was impossible to ignore them when they’d all hit me so hard. One after another, nip, nip, nipping away at my resolve.

Aiden. My mom. Susie. Diana.

My technically husband. My mom. My sister—though I still wanted DNA reports to confirm that connection. My best friend of my entire life.

Was there anyone in this world I could trust? I could rely on? Only myself it felt like sometimes. You would figure I’d know better by now.

The sound of weights clinking together in the gym down the hall had me scowling. Someone had already been busy working out by the time I’d come down the stairs. While most athletes took their bye week off to vacation or spend time with their families, the big guy didn’t. Hadn’t.

I should have known better.

By the time I was done talking myself into pushing thoughts of them away, Zac had nuked some oatmeal in the microwave and dumped a cup full of toppings on it, taking the seat opposite mine at the breakfast nook. A part of a puzzle Aiden was working on decorated the middle of the table. Zac and I happened to glance at each other at the same time, and we smiled at one another, his a tired one and mine an aggravated-but-I’m-trying-not-to-be one.

My tablet sat next to my bowl of cereal; I had been absently flipping through page after page of a website that sold T-shirt designs from freelance artists. I’d sold some of my work on there in the past, and I was looking to see if any designs gave me ideas to work on today, unless I got an unexpected last minute request.

The doorbell ringing once—not long enough to be annoying but not too short to be ignored—had me getting to my feet. “I got it.”

The face on the other side of the peephole had me smiling a little. Leslie didn’t deserve my bitch face when I only saw him a couple times a year. “Good morning,” I greeted as I opened the door.

“Wonderful morning to you, Vanessa.” Leslie smiled back. “After you.”

A gentleman. That had me genuinely smiling as I stepped back and let him in, watching as he closed the door.

“How are you?”

My chest gave a dull throb in response. “I’m okay,” I answered about as honestly as I could. “And you?”

The expression on his face caught me off guard completely. It was like he was surprised I told him the truth, or maybe he wasn’t at all surprised I wasn’t fine, and was just acknowledging that I’d been honest with him. “I’m alive. I can’t ask for more.”

That had me sniffing in near indignation. I could be mopey every once in a while if I wanted. That sounded pathetic even in my own head. Letting out a slow, controlled breath, I nodded at the older man. “Good point.” I gestured with my head toward the gym. “Aiden’s working out. Would you like something to drink?”

“Do you have any coffee?”

I was the only coffee drinker in the house. “I’ll make some right now.”

With his hands behind his back, he dipped his chin in thanks. “I appreciate it. I’m going to check up on Aiden.”

Leslie peeked into the kitchen and raised his hand, giving Zac a no-tooth smile. “Morning, Zac.”

I headed into the kitchen as Leslie went to the gym, and scooped out the pre-ground coffee beans into the coffeemaker, hitting the button to start the brew. By the time I made it back to my seat, Zac was scraping the sides of his bowl, looking way more awake than he had half an hour ago. “You feelin’ better?” he asked.

“Not really.” Was I that obvious? I lifted a shoulder. “What are you doing today?”

“Gonna work out.”

I held out my fist for him to bump, and he only slightly shook his head as his fist connected with mine.

“You want to go for a run today?”

To give him credit, he tried to control his facial features so that they didn’t resemble a grimace. “Sure.”

“Don’t sound so excited.” I laughed.

Zac grinned immediately. “I’m foolin’ ya, Vanny. What time do you wanna go?”

“Is four okay?”

He nodded. “I’ll be back by then.”

I held up my hand again and he fist bumped it.

“I’m gonna get dressed so I can get outta here,” Zac said, already pushing his chair back.

We agreed to see each other later, and after rinsing off his plate and sticking it in the dishwasher, he disappeared up the stairs. With the intention of finishing looking through the rest of the current posts on the website I still had up on my tablet, I made it through one more page before Leslie appeared.

“Thank you for making this,” he said once he was at the coffeemaker, pulling out a cup from the correct cabinet without needing direction.

“Oh, you’re welcome.” I put my tablet to sleep, figuring I didn’t have much time before Aiden appeared. I wasn’t in the mood to deal with his crap right then. Just thinking his name had my blood boiling.

A real wife.

Fucking asshole.

“I’m sorry for dropping by unexpectedly,” Leslie chimed in from his spot at the counter, pouring coffee.

That had me snapping out of cursing Aiden in my head. “Don’t worry about it. It’s okay.”

“It isn’t okay. I felt terrible after Aiden told me you were going home.”

Home. What a word to use for El Paso.

“I didn’t mean to take up your time alone. I remember what it was like to be a newlywed,” the man who had put into motion Aiden’s future said.

Newlyweds. I wanted to puke. “It really is okay. I know how much you mean to him.” Or at least, I had a good idea of how much the older man meant to him.

Aiden had two friends he kept in touch with semi-regularly. He saw them in person maybe once a year. Other than them, there was only Leslie. Leslie who had been his coach in high school. Leslie who Aiden had said repeatedly had groomed him and pushed him to succeed. In the twelve years since he’d graduated high school, they still saw each other often enough. Leslie continued to train Aiden in Colorado when the season was over. Then there were the other times that the former coach came by to visit.

If that wasn’t its own form of love and respect—at least in Aiden’s case— I had no idea what was.

My comment though had him chuckling. “Only because he knows how much he means to me.”

As bitter as I felt, I couldn’t help but soften a little as Leslie walked around the island with his cup in hand. His eyes strayed to the table, a smile coming over his face. “He’s still doing those?” He gestured toward the puzzle.

“All the time. Especially when he’s stressed.”

Leslie’s smile grew even wider, turning wistful. “He used to do them with his grandparents. I can’t remember there ever not being a puzzle at their home.” He snickered softly. “You know, after his grandmother died, he didn’t speak to me for almost a year.”

Uh. What? His grandmother?

“I can’t tell you how many times I tried calling him, left him voicemails. I even went to several of his games at Wisconsin to see him, but he went out of his way to avoid me. It damn near broke my heart.” He took the seat that Zac had just left. His white eyebrows rose as he looked at me from over the top of his cup. “That’s between you and me, eh? He’s still sensitive about that time period.”

Aiden? Sensitive?

“When his grandfather died, he was devastated, but when Constance, his grandmother, passed away… I’ve never seen anyone so distraught. He loved that woman like you couldn’t imagine. He doted on her. She’d told me he called her every day after he went away to school,” he continued on like this wasn’t the greatest secret I’d ever heard.

There was no way I could pull off being casual about what he was saying. Plus, I had a feeling that the second he really looked at my facial expressions, he’d know damn well I had no clue about anything relating to his grandmother and grandfather.

And because I was tired of being lied to so much over the course of the last few days, I went with being honest with this man who had never been anything but kind to me. “I didn’t—he’s never even mentioned his grandparents to me before. He doesn’t like to talk about things,” I admitted, messing with the leg of my glasses.

Leslie set his cup on the table and gave me a little shake of his head. “That shouldn’t surprise me.” Of course it shouldn’t. “Between us” —he tipped his forehead forward— “he’s the most remarkable man I’ve ever met, Vanessa. I’ve told him that before a hundred times, but he doesn’t listen. He doesn’t believe, and I’m not sure he cares. When I first met him, I couldn’t get a single sentence out of him. One sentence, can you imagine that?”

I nodded, because yes, yes I could imagine that.

“If I would have asked him to try out for the football team on any other day than the one I did, he never would have agreed. His grandfather was alive back then, you know. He was already living with them. Aiden had gotten in trouble with the lacrosse coach again the day before for fighting with his teammates and his grandfather had told him something—he’s never told me what—that got him to agree to try out. It took me four months to get him to really talk to me, and I was persistent. Even then, the only reason why he did was because his grandfather had a heart attack and I had this feeling he needed someone to talk to.” Leslie let out a sigh at whatever memory was bouncing around in his head. “You can’t live your life bottling everything up. You need people, even if it’s only one or two, to believe in you, and as smart as that boy is, he doesn’t understand that.”

At some point, I’d planted my elbows on the table and set my chin in my hands, caught up in every detail he was telling me. “Did you know his grandparents well?”

“His grandfather was my best friend. I’ve known Aiden since he was in diapers.” Leslie’s mouth twitch. “He was the fattest baby I have ever seen. I remember looking at his eyes and knowing he was sharp. Always so serious, so quiet. But who could blame him with his parents.”

I had about a million more questions I wanted to ask but didn’t know how to.

“He’s a good man, Vanessa. A great one. He’ll open up to you in time. I’m sure of it,” Leslie added. “He used to say he would never marry, but I knew all it was going to take was him finding the right girl to convince him otherwise. Even mountains change over time.”

And that had me feeling like a schmuck. Like a giant, fake schmuck.

It messed with my head.

I wasn’t his real wife. He didn’t love me. This was all a charade.

The knot from the night before swelled in my throat again, leaving me unable to speak for a moment while I tried to collect my thoughts. “I know he’s a good man,” I finally managed to get out with a tremulous smile that felt way too transparent. “And, hopefully, we have a long time ahead of us,” I added even more weakly.

The way Leslie’s featured lit up made my stomach roll.

I was a fluke. A con woman. Imaginary.

I was what I made myself to be.

“Is he almost done?” I forced myself to ask as I snuck my hands under the table and clenched them.

“Almost. He should be—oh, here he is. Were you eavesdropping on us?” Leslie joked.

I pushed my chair back, trying to school my emotions, my face, and my body all to behave and get through these next couple of minutes until I could disappear in my room. Before I could even make it to the island, the big guy was in the kitchen, heading to the sink.

“No.” Those brown and caramel irises were on me.

Rinsing off my bowl, I set it in the sink as I faintly listened to Leslie and Aiden discuss his workout. I ignored the way his shirt clung to his sweaty chest, ignored the way he kept glancing at me. Regardless of what Leslie had said, I wasn’t in the mood to deal with him even if he’d loved the hell out of his grandparents.

Somehow, I managed to paste something similar to a grin on my face as I walked right by Aiden, purposely letting my shoulder brush his arm because I was positive Leslie was watching. “I have a lot of work to do. I’ll be upstairs if you need me,” I said more to the older man than to the one I was married to.

Only Leslie responded.

Which was fine. It was totally fine, I assured myself as I climbed the stairs. Aiden could be pissed at me all he wanted. I was mad at him.

I had just gotten to the top when my phone started ringing. Closing the door behind me—because anyone who would be calling me right then was not going to be on my list of people I’d want to talk to—I picked up my cell from where I’d left it on the nightstand. MOM flashed across the smooth screen.

To give myself credit, I didn’t flip the phone off, curse, or even think about not taking the call. I was going to take the damn call because I wasn’t petty. Because I had nothing to feel bad about.

I just didn’t want to talk to her. Now or anytime soon. That was all.

“Hello.”

“Hi, baby.”

Okay. That had me rolling my eyes. “Hi.”

“I’ve been so worried about you,” she started off.

Was that why she’d waited almost two days to call? Because she was so worried? Damn it, I was being a bitch. “I’m fine,” I let her know in a dull tone.

“You didn’t have to leave like that.”

There was only so much a person could handle, and I was at my tipping point. I’d been at my tipping point, and it was all my fault. If I hadn’t ignored my instincts and gone to El Paso, this could have been prevented. I’d been the idiot. Then I’d given everyone else the ability to piss me off. “You—”

“I love you both.”

“I know you do.” Once upon a time, when I was a lot younger and lot more immature, it had killed me that she loved us equally. I wasn’t a borderline psychopath like Susie. I hadn’t been able to understand how she didn’t take my side each time there was an issue. But now that I was older, I realized there was no way I could ever ask that of her. It was just one of those things. On a bitchy day, I thought broken things couldn’t help but love other broken things.

I might not be flawless, and I might have hairline fractures all over the place, but I’d sworn to myself a long, lone time ago that I wouldn’t be like either of them.

It was a terrible, shitty thought. Mostly because I held my mom and Susie as the prime examples of who and what I didn’t want to ever be.

But there was only so much I could take. “I’m not asking you to not have a relationship with her, but I don’t want one with her. Nothing is ever going to change between us. I might get along okay with Erika and Rose sometimes, but that’s it.”

“Vanessa—”

“Mom. Did you hear what she said? She said she wished she’d hit me harder with her car. She tried to spit on me. Then Ricky grabbed my arm. I have bruises. My knee hurts every single day from what she did.” Damn it, my voice cracked at the same time my heart seemed to do the same. Why couldn’t she understand? Why? “I’m not trying to argue with you, but there’s no way I could have stayed after that.”

“You could have walked away,” said the woman who had walked away a hundred times in the past. This was the person who couldn’t deal with her problems if there wasn’t some sort of bottle around.

Damn it. I was so angry with her in that moment, I couldn’t find a single word that wouldn’t be brutal, that wouldn’t hurt her feelings. She said some things that I didn’t listen to because I was too focused on myself. I shoved my sleeves up my forearms in frustration. Squeezing my free fist closed, I didn’t even bother trying to count to ten. I wanted to break something, but I wouldn’t. I fucking wouldn’t. I was better than this. “You know what? You’re right. I really have to go. I have a lot of work to catch up on. I’ll call you later.”

And that was the thing with my mom. She didn’t know how to fight. Maybe it was a trait I’d picked up from my dad, whoever the guy was. “Okay. I love you.”

I’d learned what love was from my little brother, from Diana and her family, and even from my foster parents. It wasn’t this distorted, terrible thing that did what was best for itself. It was sentient, it cared, and it did what was best for the greater good. I wasn’t going to bother analyzing what my mom viewed as love again; I’d done it enough in the past. In this case, it was just a word I was going to use on someone who needed to hear it. “Uh-huh. Love you too.”

I didn’t realize I was crying until the tears hit my chin and plummeted to my shirt. Fire burned my nose. Five-six-seven-eight-nine-ten-eleven-twelve-thirteen-and-fourteen-year-old Vanessa all came back to me with the same feeling that had been so strong in those years: hurt. The Vanessa who was fifteen and older had felt a different emotion for so long: anger. Anger at my mom’s selfishness. Anger at her for not being able to clean her act up until years after we’d been taken away from her. Anger for being let down for so long, time and time again.

I had needed her a hundred times, and ninety-nine of those times she hadn’t been around, or if she had been, she’d been too drunk to be of any use to me. Diana’s mom had been more of a mother figure to me than she had been. My foster mother had been more maternal than the woman who had given birth to me. I had practically raised Oscar and myself.

But if it weren’t for everything I’d been through, I wouldn’t be where I was. I wouldn’t be the person I was. I’d become me not because of my mom and sisters, but in spite of them. And most days, I really liked myself. I could be proud of me. That had to be worth something.

I’d barely managed to wipe off my teary face and set down my phone when a familiar bang-bang-bang called a knock rattled my door. If I was capable of snarling, I’m sure the facial expression I made would have been called exactly that.

“Yes?” I called out in a sarcastic tone, resisting the urge to throw myself back onto my bed like a little kid. Not that I’d ever done that, even back then.

Considering “Yes?” wasn’t exactly an invitation to come in, I was only slightly surprised when the door opened and the man I didn’t exactly want to see in the near future popped his head inside.

“Yes?” I repeated, biting the inside of my cheek to keep from calling him something mean. I was sure my emotions were written all over my face, my eyes had to have some trace of the tears that had just been in them, but I wasn’t going to hide it.

Aiden opened the door completely and slipped inside, his eyes sweeping across the room briefly before landing back on me sitting on the edge of my bed. His eyebrows scrunched together as he witnessed what I wasn’t trying to hide. His mouth depressed into a frown. One of his hands went up to reach behind his head, and I tried to ignore the bunched biceps that seemed to triple in size at the action. His Adam’s apple bobbed as his gaze swept over my face once more. “We need to talk.”

Once upon a time, all I’d wanted was for him to talk to me. Now, that wasn’t the case. “You should really be spending time with Leslie while he’s here.”

Those big biceps flexed. “He agreed I should come up here and talk to you.”

I narrowed my eyes, ignoring the tightness in them. “You told him we got into a fight?”

“No. He could tell something was off without me saying anything.” Those massive hands dropped to his sides. “I wanted to talk to you last night.”

But I’d ignored his knock. I made a vague noise. What was the point in lying when I’m pretty sure he was well aware of the fact I’d been awake then?

Aiden fisted his hands for a moment before bringing them back to cross his arms over his chest. “I’m sorry for what I said yesterday.”

I wasn’t remotely impressed by his directness and I was sure my face said that.

In true Aiden fashion, he didn’t let my expression deter him from what he’d come to say. “I don’t like things hanging over my head, and if you and I are going to have a problem, we’re going to talk about it. I meant what I told you in your apartment. I do like you as much as I like anyone. I wouldn’t have come to you for all of this if I didn’t. You always treated me as more than just the person who paid your check and I see that now. I’ve seen it for a while, Van. I’m not very good at this crap.” Did he look uncomfortable or was I imagining it? I wondered. “I’m selfish and self-centered. I know that. You know that. I bail on people all the time.” He had a point there. He did. I’d witnessed it firsthand. “I get it, you’re not that kind of person. You don’t go back on your word. I… I didn’t think you’d care if I didn’t go,” he said carefully.

I opened my mouth to tell him that no one liked being bailed on, but he trudged on before I could.

“But I understand, Van. Just because people don’t complain to my face when I do it, doesn’t mean it doesn’t piss them off, all right? I didn’t mean to be an asshole downstairs. I only wanted to make sure you made it back fine and you weren’t going to kill me in my sleep for flaking out on you. Then I got mad.”

I had thought about killing him, but it surprised me just a little bit that he assumed I would think that.

Before I could linger on that thought too long, Aiden leveled that dark gaze on me. “If you had done that to me…” He looked a little uncomfortable at whatever he was thinking and let out a shaky exhale. “I wouldn’t have handled it as well as you did.”

That was a freaking fact.

“I wasn’t nagging,” I stated. Then thought about it and, in my head, amended the statement to add ‘mostly’ to it.

He tilted his head to the side like he wanted to argue otherwise. “You were nagging, but you had a right to. I have a lot going on right now.”

My first thought was: The end has come. He’s opening up to me.

My second thought was: It’s so obvious he’s stressed as hell.

I hadn’t caught onto his body language, or the tightness he carried both in his shoulders and his voice as he spoke, but now up close, it was obvious. He’d been through a lot in just the first month of the regular season. He’d already sprained his ankle. Zac had gotten kicked off the team. On top of that, he was worried about his visa and his future with not just the Three Hundreds but in the NFO, period. His injury would be a factor in his career for the rest of his life. Any time he made a mistake, people would wonder if he hadn’t come back as strongly as he’d been before, even if it had nothing to do with his Achilles tendon.

The guy looked ready to snap, and it was barely the end of September. I wanted to ask him if he’d heard anything back from the immigration lawyer, or if our marriage license had showed up, or if Trevor had quit being a pain in the ass and started to look for another team or a better deal or whatever it was that he wanted out of the next stage of his career but…

I didn’t. Today would be a bad day for me to ask and for him not to answer. I was too raw and tired and disillusioned.

And it was in that moment, with that thought, the slightest bit of remorse flickered through my brain because I realized that maybe I had been itching for a fight. Maybe. And maybe this really had been the worst time—for him—to give him so much shit when he already had so much on his shoulders.

Plus, I wasn’t in the best state of mind either.

But apologizing wasn’t my forte and doing so wasn’t easy, but a good person recognized when they were wrong and accepted their faults. “I’m sorry for exploding on you. I was angry that you didn’t go, but I know why you bailed. I just don’t like it when people say they’ll do something and then don’t, but I’ve been like that for a long time. It has nothing to do with you.” I took those words straight from the Bank of Aiden. On top of that, there was everything else that had built up over the course of the weekend that wasn’t his fault. Not that I would bring it up.

His response was a nod of acceptance, of acknowledgment that we’d both handled the situation badly.

“So, I’m sorry too. I know how important your career is to you.” With a sigh, I held out my hand to him. “Friends?”

Aiden glanced from my outstretched palm to my face before taking my hand in his. “Friends.” It was midshake that he looked down at his giant hand swallowing mine, and the most disgusted expression came over that perfectly stoic face. “What the hell happened to your wrist?”

Yeah, I didn’t even bother trying to pull my sleeve down and play stupid. I’d forgotten that I’d tugged them up like an idiot. I slipped out of his hold and let the familiar flow of anger creep down the back of my neck once more at the memory of my sister’s idiot husband.

Specifically, him grabbing my arm and yanking me away after I’d yelled at Susie because she’d practically said she wished she’d have killed me. I’d told her she was out of her goddamn mind. But I hadn’t asked her for the millionth time why she hated me so much. What could I have possibly done before I was even four years old to make me her archnemesis? I was mad at myself for not preventing the entire situation, mostly. Then again, her husband had dropped his grip of steel the minute I’d charged my leg upward to try and knee him in the balls, ramming him straight into the inner thigh instead.

“It’s nothing.”

Those dark brown eyes blazed up to meet mine, and I swore on my life, the fury in those irises was enough for me to stop breathing. “Vanessa,” Aiden growled, literally growled, as he softly tugged the sleeve further up my forearm to display the five-inch bruise just above my wrist.

I watched as he gazed at the stupid, stupid discoloration. “I got into an argument with my sister.” Was there a point in not telling him who it was with? I only had to glance at the hard drawn line of his mouth to know he wasn’t going to let this go. “Her husband was there and he got a little handsy, so I tried to knee him in the balls.”

His nostrils flared and a muscle in his cheek visibly twitched. “Your sister’s husband?”

“Yes.”

His cheek spasmed again. “Why?”

“It was stupid. It doesn’t matter.”

Was that a grumble caught in his throat? “Of course it matters.” His voice was deceptively soft. “Why did he do it?”

I knew that look on his face; it was his stubborn one. The one that said it was pointless to argue with him. While I wasn’t crazy about spreading Susie’s business around, much less share how rocky my relationship with my third oldest sister was, Susie and I could be on Jerry Springer. She made her choices years ago, and it was no one else’s fault but her own what she had gotten out of them. We’d grown up under the same circumstances, neither one of us having something the other didn’t. I couldn’t feel any pity for her.

Rubbing my hands over my pant legs, I blew out a breath. “She didn’t like the way I was looking at her and we got into a fight,” I explained, leaving out a couple of details and colorful words, even though it wasn’t much of an explanation. “Her husband overheard us arguing” —her calling me a bitch and me telling her she was an immature twat— “and he grabbed me.”

You snobby bitch. What gives you the right to think you’re better than me? She’d had the freaking nerve to yell in my face.

I’d responded in the only way all that pent-up anger in me was capable of. Because I’m not a fucking asshole who loves to hurt everything in her life. That’s why I think I’m better than you.

Aiden’s calloused fingertips suddenly brushed lightly over the bruising, lifting my wrist in the cradle of those hands that were an instrumental part of his multi-million dollar body. The tic in his cheek had gotten worse as I tipped my head further back to look at that hard line his jaw made when he was gritting his teeth. His breath rattled out, and the thumb and index finger of one of his hands circled the middle of my forearm as he said, “Did he apologize?”

“No.” I made myself clear my throat, uncomfortable, uncomfortable, uncomfortable.

I saw him gulp. The air filled with an unfamiliar tension. His swallow sounded loud in my ears. “Did he hit you?”

And just like that, I realized—I remembered why he might be so upset over the situation. I flashbacked to that memory I’d shoved to the back of my brain because I’d been worried about getting fired. How the hell could I have forgotten about it?

Almost immediately after I first began working for the man known as The Wall of Winnipeg, I’d gotten dragged to Montreal for a charity event that he’d donated to. Afterward, Leslie—who had since moved from Winnipeg—invited me along to his house with Aiden for dinner with his family. Aiden had seemed distracted that day, but I thought maybe I’d been imagining it. I hadn’t known him well then, hadn’t learned the little nuances in his features or in his tone that gave away an idea of how he was feeling or what he was thinking.

We’d been having dinner with Leslie, his wife, two of his sons, and one of his grandkids, who happened to be the cutest little boy. The four-year-old boy had been climbing from lap to lap throughout our visit, and at some point, to my shock, ended up on the big guy’s lap. The boy had reached up and started touching Aiden’s face, tenderly and casually. His hand strayed to that heavy, thick, scar that stretched along his hairline. The boy asked him, “What happened?” in that blunt, cute way little kids were capable of.

The only reason I heard his answer was because I’d been sitting next to him. Otherwise, I was sure I would have missed the whispered, casual reply.

“I made my dad very mad.”

The silence after his answer had been stifling, suffocating, and irrepressible all in one. The little boy had blinked at him like he couldn’t comprehend the answer he’d been given; why would he? It was obvious how much he was loved. Aiden’s eyes slid over to my direction and I knew he realized I’d overheard him, because I couldn’t look away fast enough and play dumb.

Aiden didn’t say a word after that; he didn’t remind me of the non-disclosure agreement that I’d been forced to sign my first day on the job, or threaten my life or future if I told anyone. So I sure as hell didn’t bring it up either. Ever.

Blinking away the memory and the sympathy that filled my chest because Aiden was so touchy over an incident like this, I dropped my eyes to his beard. I didn’t want him to see me because I was sure he would know I was thinking about something he wouldn’t want me to. “No, he didn’t hit me. He’s still alive.” I cracked a little smile.

He didn’t return it. “Did you tell anyone?”

I sighed and tried to pull my arm back. He didn’t let go. “I didn’t need to. Everyone heard.”

“And they did nothing?” Was his cheek twitching?

I shrugged my shoulder. “I don’t have that kind of relationship with my family.”

That sounded about as fucked up as it was.

The betrayal that had pierced through me in that moment stabbed me again, fresh and painful. Tears pooled in my eyes as I relived the incident when I was eighteen that ruined what was left of the fractured bond I’d shared with them. Even my knee ached a little at the memory.

Those large fingers eased their grip on my hand just slightly, and in a smaller voice than he usually used, he asked, “She’s your real sister?”

Real sister. I’d mentioned my foster parents, hadn’t I? “Yes.” I messed with my glasses. “We’ve never gotten along. She’s about as far from what a sister should be as you can get.”

“How many do you have?”

“Three.”

“You’re the youngest?”

“Youngest girl.”

“They were there?”

“Yes.”

“And none of them did anything? Said anything?”

Why did I feel so ashamed? My eyes started to sting, and that made me force my gaze upward. I wasn’t going to feel bad. I wasn’t going to hide. “No.”

His gaze switched from one of my eyes to the other. “They live in El Paso?”

“I think.”

His nostrils flared and he gently let go of my hand, my skin immediately missing the warm touch of his fingers. “Okay.” He took a step back and turned his head over his shoulder. “Zac!”

What the hell? “What are you doing?”

He didn’t look at me before yelling Zac’s name again. “I need to borrow his car. If I fly, there will be proof I was there.”

Holy shit.

“You—?” I choked. “You—?” I coughed that time, floundering. “What the hell are you planning on doing?”

“You kneeing him isn’t doing it for me.” Aiden didn’t even grace me with a glance as he made his way toward my door. “Zac!”

Yeah, those tears pooling in my eyes decided screw it. They went for it. One, two, and three. “You’ve lost your mind, big guy.”

“No. That asshole lost his mind. Your family lost their mind. I know what I’m doing.”

This psycho was going to try and beat someone up, wasn’t he? Holy shit. “You’d do that for me?”

Crap, my expectations were low if that made me teary.

The big guy stopped in front of the door and spun on his heel with a lot more grace than a man that large should be capable of. He blinked, piercing me with a glare. “We’re partners. We’re a team. You said it.”

I nodded dumbly, earning me that ‘you’re an idiot’ look from him. His eyebrows went up just a little, his head just slightly forward enough to be confrontational. “If someone messes with you, they’re going to mess with me, Van. I don’t want to hurt your feelings. I might not be good with this friend crap, but I’m not about to let somebody get away with hurting you. Ever. Do you understand me?”

My heart. My poor, weak pathetic heart.

I swallowed and tried to nod away the clump of emotions plugging up every vein in my body. As much as I would love Aiden to go kick Susie’s husband’s ass… “The guard would see you driving his car, and there’s a camera at the gate.”

Aiden tilted his head and pinned me with another look that might have been a surprised one. “You’ve put some thought into this,” he said slowly.

“Of course I have.” He didn’t need to know I’d been plotting his murder then. “That’s why I know we have to wait.”

“We?”

“Yeah. I’m not going to let you go beat him up alone. I’d like to get a couple stomps in too.” I raised my eyebrows and smiled faintly, letting the tension slide off my shoulders. “I’m joking.” Sort of. “It doesn’t matter. I’ll probably never see him again, and even if I do, their lives suck. Mine doesn’t. That’s enough vengeance for me. Trust me.”

Well, at least most of the time it was enough.

“Vanessa…” He trailed off with a frown.

The next three sentences we shared between the two of us were going to be the last thing I thought about when I went to bed later that night.

“You’ve been with me for two years, but I figure I’m barely beginning to understand,” the big guy claimed, his expression solemn.

“Understand what?”

“I should probably be scared of you.”