“Unca Awon!” Lexi flies out of the house when she sees us.
I immediately crouch down to catch her and wrap her in my arms. “Hey, Lexi girl, you being good for Grandma?”
“My always good,” she says, giving me a wet kiss on the cheek.
“Hey, baby girl, how was your day?” Evan asks her.
“Good. Walker pee on Gamma.” She laughs and so do I.
“Just wait until he gets you,” Evan tells me.
“I can handle the little guy, no problem.”
I sit out on the front porch with Lexi while Evan gathers Walker and all of their things. He loads them up in his truck on our way up to the studio. Once we reach the top of the stairs, Lex wiggles for me to let her down. Of course, as soon as I do, she flies into the studio like a little tornado. I rush after her and stop in my tracks when I see Whitney sitting on a bench, hands covering her face and shoulders shaking. McKinley is sitting next to her rubbing circles on her back.
“What happened?” I rush toward them and drop to my knees in front of Whitney. “Whit, what’s going on?”
“She’s just had a rough day, Aaron,” my sister answers for her.
I place my hands on her knees and give them a gentle squeeze. “Whit, look at me, please.” There is a heaviness in my chest at just the thought of her hurting. “Hey, I don’t do well with tears, remember?” I can still remember the sadness in her eyes that night at the bar.
Surprisingly, my confession gets a small chuckle out of her. Slowly, she lifts her head and her watery eyes and tearstained cheeks break me. Gently, I frame her face with my hands and wipe her tears with my thumbs. “We’ve had this talk before. You know I’m telling you the truth.” That earns me a watery smile. “What are you doing right now?” I can see the confusion in her eyes. I turn to Kinley. “Are you all done for the day?”
“Yeah, the last client left about thirty minutes ago.”
“All right, up you go.” I stand, grabbing her hands and pulling her up with me. “Grab your stuff.”
“Aaron.” Her voice is raspy, and if not for the tears, I would say sexy as fuck.
“Come on. It’s time for another first, city girl.” I wink.
“Aaron, you don’t have to—”
“Hey”—bending down so that we are eye to eye—“I got you,” I repeat my words from that night at the lake.
“Okay,” she relents.
“Whitney and I are going out. We’ll see you guys later.” My sister is speechless, and Evan is wearing a smirk. I know I should be worried about what crazy ideas are going through their heads right now, but I can’t seem to find it in me to care. I know Whit is hurting, and I can’t stand the thought. I’m making it my personal mission to see that smile, hear that laugh, and take away the pain.
I lead her down the stairs and over to my truck. I open the door for her, and she climbs in without complaint.
“What are we doing?” she asks once I’m settled behind the wheel.
“You are drinking. I’m driving.”
“Aaron, really, I’m fine. It was just a bad day. Sometimes it’s hard. I’ll get better at hiding it.”
Dropping my hand from the gear shift, I take off my seat belt and turn to face her. “Whit, you don’t have to hide it. I’m not positive of what exactly has you so upset, but I have a pretty good idea. You don’t have to hide anything. You need to feel it. All of it.”
“It hurts,” she whispers.
Reaching over, I grab her hand and lace our fingers together. “Babe, it’s supposed to hurt. But you have to let it out. If you hold it in, you’re going to break.” I can only assume that she’s talking about losing her mom.
“Where are we going?” she asks, changing the subject.
“Nowhere, anywhere, everywhere. I’m driving and you are drinking. This is something else we do in the country. Grab a designated driver and just drive back roads, drink, and listen to music. It’s therapeutic.”
“Aaron. . . .”
“It’s happening. I just have to drive to town and grab some beer or whatever it is you want, and we’re off to enjoy what is supposed to be a beautiful night, weather wise.” Shit, I forgot the cooler. “Hold that thought. I’ll be right back.” I jump out of the truck and race up the steps into the mudroom and grab a small cooler. I throw it in the backseat of the truck. “Ready?”
She exhales, laying her head back against the headrest. “Do I have a choice?”
“No.”
“Didn’t think so.”
I rest our joined hands on the console and just drive. Whitney stares out her window the entire time. I don’t bother trying to pry this time; she’s hurting. Sure, alcohol might not be the best way to treat this, but she needs to forget the pain. I’ll be right by her side to make sure nothing happens to her. Not on my watch.
“Anything special you want to drink?” I ask, pulling in to the local liquor store.
“Anything fruity.”
At least she’s no longer fighting me. “I’ll be right back.” I pick up a bag of ice, a couple of bottles of water, two six-packs of wine coolers, and some Boone’s Farm. My sister loves that shit, so I’m guessing Whitney will too. I’m sure it’s way more than what she will drink, but I’m preparing for the long haul if needed.
I open the back door of the truck, then twist the cap off a wine cooler and hand it up to her. Doesn’t take me long to add the ice and the rest to the cooler. “You need to eat something. What sounds good?” I ask, hopping back in the truck.
“Not hungry,” she mumbles, still holding her untouched wine cooler.
“Maybe not now, but I promise you’ll thank me after you start drinking. You need to have something in your stomach.”
“Anything.”
From our many conversations, I know that pizza is her favorite food. I pull into the lot of the local pizza joint and turn off the truck. “You want to go in or do you want me to order it to go?”
“To go.”
Reaching over, I give her leg a gentle squeeze. “I’ll be right back.”
“Hi, can I help you,” the young girl behind the counter asks. She looks frazzled.
“Yeah, I need to order a large pepperoni to go.”