Maybe we hadn’t been soul mates, and maybe he really hadn’t cared about what I added to his life until I was gone, but I had so much because of him. And I would continue to have so much because of him too. That knowledge softened the hurt from an hour ago enough for me to clear my throat and say, “Ai—”
He interrupted me. “Are you putting up lights outside?”
“You did it all today?”
“Yep.” We’d done it all in a matter of hours.
After having to visit two different stores to buy enough Christmas lights to decorate the house, the trips had definitely ended up being worth it. Round, blue LED lights outlined the roof and garage. Two different individual packages of lights had to be used to wrap around the pillar by the front door. Another box was used to go around the big window, and I’d twined more lights through the branches of the tree in the front yard.
“You and Aiden did this?” Zac then asked, his arms crossed over his chest. I’d been outside putting up the last of the lights when he’d pulled his truck into the garage.
“Uh-huh. He even got on the roof with me even though I kept telling him to get back in the house before he fell off or one of the neighbors called the team and told them what he was doing.” There were specific things in his contract he was prohibited from doing: riding anything with wheels, including but not limited to motorcycles, scooters, mopeds, Segways, hoverboards, and skateboards. He couldn’t do anything that required a waiver, i.e. skydiving. And there was also a specific note in his contract that said he wasn’t allowed anywhere near fireworks.
I’d read his contract one day when I found it in a saved folder on his computer and I’d been bored.
Aiden’s exact response to me trying to shoo him off had been: “Don’t tell me what to do.”
Sometimes, I really wanted to choke him out for being so stubborn. Then again, he’d been the one to bring up putting Christmas lights up when I hadn’t prepared for it, simply because I didn’t want to do it all alone.
Zac snickered, his hands in his pockets. “I’m not surprised. How long did it take?”
“Three hours.”
He glanced at his watch and frowned. “How early did he get home?”
Anddddd that reminded me what he’d done, what he’d said. I frowned and muttered, “Right after twelve,” knowing that was going to reel him in.
Hook, line, and sinker. “How come? Those Monday mornin’ defense meetings usually last ‘til two.”
I punched him in the arm. “You tell me, big mouth.”
Nosey McNoserson immediately perked up. “What I do?” He’d barely asked the question when his eyes went a little wide and that chin went right back down, his ears seeming to perk up.
“You told him about Christian, you snitch. You know what happens to snitches?”
“They get stitches?”
I punched him again. “Yes! He got into a fight with him today.”
Zac’s lip dropped, and he gaped. Honestly, I loved Zac. I really did. “No!”
Okay, he got on my nerves for telling Aiden what had happened, but he was still so funny it was unreal. “Yes! He got into a fight with him!” Zac’s mouth went even wider, his blue eyes darting from one side to the other like he couldn’t handle what I was telling him. “He got—”
“Aiden?”
“Yes.”
“Our Aiden?”
I nodded solemnly.
Zac still didn’t believe me. “You sure?”
“He told me. He has the bruises to prove it.”
“No. He wouldn’t.” He looked away and then looked back at me. “Aiden?”
“Yes.”
He opened his mouth and then closed it. “I don’t know…” His lips moved but nothing came out. “He doesn’t…“
“I know. I know he doesn’t.”
“What the hell took him so long? I told him a week ago,” he suddenly noted in exasperation.
Good gracious. He was making faces because Aiden had taken too long. Uh. “Because when I went to the Thanksgiving Day game, Christian called me honey or something, and was just being a creeper in general—wait. It doesn’t matter. Why did you say anything to him anyway? I told you that as friends. Circle of trust.”
Zac huffed and gave me a look that resembled one of Aiden’s a little too closely. “Why wouldn’t I tell him?”
“Because it didn’t matter.”
Yeah, he was definitely giving me one of Aiden’s faces. “If I was the one you were married to, I’d want him to tell me.”
“Traitor.” That made sense, but I wasn’t going to admit it.
The blond snorted. “Van, think about it for a second. Aiden’s not—he’s not going to give you a hug, tell you you’re pretty, and call you his best friend, but I know him, and he cares about you.”
Now he does, I thought. “If I die, he can’t get his papers fixed so easily.”
His blue eyes narrowed and he gestured toward the front door. “If you die, who else would he have that gives a shit about him?”
What was that supposed to mean?
“C’mon. Let’s go inside. I’m starvin’,” he finished up.
I took one more peek at the bright blue lights and followed him in. We had barely opened the door when the persistent beeping of Aiden’s ringtone started going off from somewhere in the kitchen. I ignored it and headed toward the fridge, pulling out leftovers from the day before.