Pieces of Summer

I struggle to get her hands off me, and finally shove my hands against her chest, sending her staggering backwards. The wildness in her eyes multiplies, and she screams seconds before she shoves me hard.

Aidan’s scream of terror hits my ears just as something crashes behind me, and weightlessness catches my breath as my stomach drops.

I jerk awake, grabbing the bed to keep myself from falling like I just was, sweating as I look around the room. The room. I’m in my bedroom. Not in the Mad Hatter’s house.

Blowing out a breath, I look outside to see the sun is glaring brightly, acting as though there was no vicious storm last night. Sluggishly, I slide out of bed and head to the bathroom to brush my teeth. Memories dressed as nightmares never taste very good.

After twisting my hair into a messy bun, I throw on a pair of shorts and jog downstairs. But I’m stumbling to a halt when I reach the kitchen and see heaven. Okay, it’s just a naked back, but it’s close enough.

How did I forget he was here?

He moves, stretching to open the cabinet door, and I watch as his lean muscles flex with the motion. It’s mesmerizing, and all he’s doing is getting a coffee cup. The tops of his boxers are barely sticking up above the waistline of his jeans, and my eyes trail over the numerous lines of ink on his back.

My face flames and heats when he turns around and smirks, catching me ogling him. He should have a shirt on, damn it.

“Coffee?” he asks, not bothering to mock me.

“Please,” I say curtly, forcing a tight smile. As I sit down at the bar, he goes to work making our coffees, fixing mine with just a splash of cream. It’s weird he remembers. “Didn’t expect you to still be here.”

He glances over and shrugs. “Shop is closed today. Figured I’d stick around and have some coffee with you. Maybe… catch up?”

Catching up last night was difficult enough. I don’t want to start a new day with the same thing I did last night. That’s not allowed, damn it. It invites in memories like the dream that jarred me awake this morning.

He slides my coffee over to me while taking a seat at the bar across from me. We stare at each other for several long minutes, locked in a gaze that dares the other to look away first.

When it gets too intense, I finally break the eye contact, but I do not look at his body that is lined with even more ink than I knew.

“I’m going to the bowling alley today,” I tell him, even though I had no intention of it before this moment.

“I’ll come with. I’d like to see it.”

Shit.

“Why?”

“Because it was once my dream.”

I look up to see him cocking an eyebrow at me. It’s then I notice how tired he looks. Ignoring his comment, I focus on his appearance.

“You didn’t sleep too well on the couch. Told you to take Dad’s room.”

He snorts derisively. “Nah. The couch was hella comfortable. I just stayed up too late reading about my death.”

My lips twitch, and he nods slowly. “You weren’t kidding about that shit being brutal. Pretty dark stuff when it starts off with them finding my severed cock in a dirty alleyway next to a whorehouse.”

I cover my smile, and he shudders dramatically. “Thanks for those nightmares.”

When I laugh, he grins, sipping his coffee while watching me.

“You should see how you die in the next book,” I say softly, hiding my own twisted smile.

“If it’s worse than that, I think I’ll pass.”

Who would have thought talking about a murder could lighten the room so much?

“So… Heard your dad died. That’s how you got the house, right?”

That causes me to tense, because Whit might have told him more than I thought.