His father yanked the soapbox out from under him before he could finish.
“Dammit, Aiden! Stop being so stubborn.”
Aiden closed his mouth, and stared into his father’s simmering eyes. Eyes the same color as his.
Mike pulled a hand through his shaggy gray hair. “You don’t know how long you have with someone in this life, you know. You may get them for a few months, or you may get them for thirty-seven years.” He leaned over and rested his elbows on his knees, but didn’t take his eyes off his son. “You don’t know. That’s the point. Life isn’t laid out in neat little squares like some goddamn checkerboard,” he said, his voice gruff. “Your mom…” He paused, lifting his chin.
Aiden kept quiet and waited.
Mike cleared his throat. “Your mom,” he said in a titanium tone, “was supposed to grow old with me. That was the plan. That was always the plan. You may think I look old, but I don’t feel old. And she’s gone a lot sooner than I ever planned.
“When the accident happened”—he pointed at his face—“she told me she was scared to death she might lose me. Told me she hadn’t thought about losing me so soon, if ever.”
He was talking about the factory accident. It happened before Aiden was born. Mike’s coworker had gotten caught in one of the machines and when Mike pulled him loose, a piece of metal shot out and nearly took his eye. The scar his dad liked to make jokes about was caused by an accident that could have ended his life.
“I didn’t remember how she’d cried back then until she was diagnosed with cancer the first time,” Dad continued. “Then I remembered. ’Cause I was doing the same for her. I realized what I was up against: losing her. Sooner than I expected.” He gave Aiden a hard look. “I never took her for granted after that.” His hands clenched into fists. “I held on to each minute I had with her with both hands. You’ve been through hell, son. You were with her in some of her darkest hours. You lost her. We all lost her.” His voice wavered, but his face stayed strong.
“You have a chance to be with Sadie—to be with the woman who loves you. She came to you, Aiden. She came back,” he reiterated as Aiden felt guilt punch a hole through his chest. “She wants you and you’re sitting here like a jackass.”
Aiden blinked at his dad. Mike was a good father, a tough father, but not since Aiden was fifteen and cheated on a final in school had he heard him speak to him with such authority.
“Do you love her?” he demanded.
Hearing Shane’s question repeated after all he’d been through with Sadie stopped Aiden’s thoughts in their tracks. Of course he loved her. Of all the excuses he’d made about not taking her back, not one of them had been because he didn’t love her. He loved her with all he was. That was the problem.
Wasn’t it?
He pictured Sadie, shivering, her shirt soaked through, her hair dripping, mascara running. Her eyes had been filled with fear, but her voice even when she’d told him the best news of his life. She’d bared her heart, confessed her feelings, and begged him to come back.
And he sent her away.
“I’m a brainless bastard,” Aiden muttered.
“And she loves you anyway.” Mike’s scar crinkled when he smiled. “Man doesn’t get any luckier than that.”
An emotion swept over Aiden and in a rush, he named it. Certainty. The kind he’d possessed when he hadn’t hesitated to pack up his mother and move her to Oregon. The kind of certainty that had led him to sell his house and motorcycles to continue paying for her care behind his family’s back. The kind of certainty that made it impossible to ever feel regret.
And he knew if he didn’t act on his decision to go after Sadie, he’d regret this moment forever. And forever was a long time. He pushed to his feet and turned to open the front door.
“Don’t come back without her!” Dad yelled behind him.
Aiden spared him a smile and pulled on his ball cap before taking off at a run for the garage. It’d be a painful bike ride in the rain to catch up with her, but he’d—
He froze midway across the drive when he spotted Sadie’s car idling at the curb two houses down. But he only stilled for a moment. And then he ran to her.
Like his very life depended on it.
* * *
Sadie hoped she wouldn’t have to sleep here. It’d be embarrassing to be outside Aiden’s father’s house in the morning with red, puffy eyes and an empty box of tissues on the front seat. She grabbed another from the crushed box she forgot she had in the car. She’d found them under the seat with a petrified french fry and about two dollars in change.