Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 77005 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 385(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77005 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 385(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
How is this my life? I moved out here to live a nice, quiet existence, away from all the bullshit, and now I’m stuck trying to talk this fool––who one could argue is the top movie star in the world––into getting out of a tub filled with hay bits and animal slobber. At midnight. This is not what winning at life looks like.
“I don’t know how to fix it…” he continues as if I haven’t spoken. Something tells me Aidan Hughes is not a good listener. “I should’ve… I tried to… truth is I’m…” Another pause. He rubs his face. “I just… I dunno… sometimes I can’t help it.”
“I beg to differ. You can help it. For starters, you can remove your sorry self from that tub you’re soaking in so that I can add disinfect the trough to the list of many chores I need to accomplish in the morning.”
He looks up at me with the most pathetic, searching blue eyes. His perfect beauty in the face of my lack of sleep enrages me even more.
“I’m sorry… I know I’ve been awful. You shouldn’t have to put up with me… I don’t deserve your hospitality…”
Fuck. He’s going with genuine remorse for once. I have no defense for this. It’s my Achilles heel. My shoulders slump in defeat. I’m ready to accept that I won’t be getting any sleep tonight. With that in mind, I grab an empty tub with a few straws of hay left, flip it over, and sit.
“You wanna talk about it?” I force the words out of my mouth.
“No,” he blurts out defensively. Then he digs the heels of his palms into his eyes. “Yes… I think.”
I think about what I’m about to say because if I am going to lose sleep tonight, I want it to be worth something.
“Aidan… I don’t see you as the kind of person that would hurt anyone––least of all an old lady and her cat. So what gives? What are you so angry about?”
A moment of silence. “Do you know my father is a 3-star General?”
This sets me back. His father? This is about his father? “No, I didn’t.”
Aidan nods. “He’s retired and living in Sarasota with my mother.”
“That’s nice. My parents are divorced.” Then I realize the obvious mistake. “Not legally, but they’ve been separated since I was six.”
“That sucks,” he says, off-handedly.
“My mother took off one day after my birthday and never came back. She’s still out there, saving the world.”
“That sucks.” It’s a major effort not to roll my eyes. “My father used to hit me. He liked hitting me… the old man’s favorite hobby.”
My heart sinks. “Aidan––”
“He liked to put up his fists like this”––Lifting his hands, he curls his fingers in front of his face––“and say, ‘Fight me. Show me whatcha got.’ I remember thinking his fists looked like the big cans of tomatoes you see in the supermarket.”
He looks up at me, open and defenseless.
“He wanted to teach me to be a man because I liked to watch movies instead of going outside to…” He exhales tiredly. Like the story is getting too heavy to carry on his own. “I dunno… lift rocks or some shit.”
I’m getting a clear idea of what the problem is, and it breaks my heart.
“What about your mom?”
“She tried… he told her he was raising sons, not daughters.”
“And Shane?”
I can’t imagine that his brother wouldn’t protect him from this abuse.
“Shane’s five years older than me…” he continues. “He enlisted in the Marines out of high school. He was the good son.”
It all makes sense now. The veiled animosity. The cold war between them and why Shane doesn’t treat Aidan with the same contempt. Maybe being an only child wasn’t such a bad thing after all.
“Got the old man’s name and everything.”
There’s a long pause. It’s obvious that major, unresolved issues are in play between them, but none are getting solved tonight.
I yawn, unable to stop myself. “I’m sorry, Aidan. I really am… and we can talk about it whenever you want. But can you get out of the water now?”
His gorgeous mouth kicks up on one side. With a nod, he begins to lift himself out of the water and my reaction is immediate and dramatic. Standing abruptly, I back away and cover my eyes with my hands. I know it’s juvenile, but it’s a knee-jerk reaction. I can’t, in good conscious, perv on both brothers. I draw the line at one. If I’m going to sexually objectify a Hughes, I want it to be Shane.
“It’s safe to open your eyes,” I hear over the sloshing of water. I crack one eye open, see the Arena swim trunks, and smile.
“You dig these?”
“No,” I tell him, incapable of keeping the smile off my face. It takes an outsized ego to try and pull those off. That and the outsized package between his legs. “But don’t let me stop you.”