“I guess you have your answer.” He rolled to his side, propped himself up on his elbow, and gazed down at me with a drunken grin. There was still sweat covering his neck, leaving little droplets making trails through the ink on his chest.
Cool air blew into the back of the jeep, and I shivered. I grabbed the blanket Aiden had so thoughtfully tossed in the back of the jeep before we left his house—as if he knew this was going to happen again. I pulled it up to my chest and wrapped my arms around myself.
“You’re beautiful,” Aiden said as he reached out and ran his fingers over my arm. “I’m so glad you came back.”
“I’m glad I’m here, too.”
He ran his hand up and down my arm, warming it with friction. I reached behind his head and pulled his face to mine, nipping at his bottom lip with my teeth and wondering how long this was going to last.
I didn’t want it to end.
“Still worried about the job?” Aiden asked.
“Not as much. It will work out eventually.”
“Is it okay if I hope it doesn’t?”
I looked up, expecting to see his characteristic smirk, but it wasn’t there. He was completely serious.
“Why would you say that?” I rolled to face him and leaned against my elbow in the same fashion as he.
“Because it means you might stay here longer,” he said with a smile that didn’t make his eyes twinkle.
I stroked the side of his face.
“With your cooking, how can I resist?”
Aiden laughed and hugged me against his chest.
“I can’t drive,” he stated. “I’m still fucked up.”
“Me, too,” I said.
“I guess we’ll lie here a while.” Aiden grabbed the edge of the blanket and scooted up against me, wrapping it around us both.
“Seriously, are you two at it again?” Lance called from the sidewalk. I could hear his girlfriend, Jennifer, laughing, too. At least I remembered her name now. “Get a room already!”
“This is better than a room!” Aiden yelled back. “Now fuck off!”
Everyone laughed.
“What’s the plan for today?” I asked as I cleared away our breakfast plates.
Aiden sipped his coffee as he tapped the back of one knuckle on his laptop.
“Well, nothing in particular,” he said. “I could use some help picking out a head-shrinker.”
I looked at the screen to see a list of local psychologists specializing in grief counseling.
“You know they don’t really prefer that term,” I informed him.
“Tough shit,” he replied. “I said I’d do it. That doesn’t mean I think it’s going to help.”
“Thank you for trying anyway.” I kissed the top of his head.
We went through the list until we found one with a profile Aiden thought sounded right. It was Sunday, but he wanted to go ahead and leave a voice mail.
“Uh, okay,” he said into the phone. “My name is Hunter, and my girlfriend says I need to talk to someone about some shit, so, uh…yeah…call me back sometime.”