I throw away my trash and then head to the couch where he is sitting. He’s in lounge clothes, with his headset hanging on one ear. He’s such a nerd when it comes to his games. Not that I’m any better. He hands me a controller, and we get started. One of my favorite pastimes is gaming with Aiden. When we first came to the Assassins, that was all we did. Two single dudes, enjoying the gaming life and partying our way through Nashville. It was a blast, but then Shelli came along.
We don’t talk much as we play, and the anxiety of telling him is driving me nuts. When my phone goes off, I glance down to see that it’s Stella once more.
Stella: Dude, just tell me you’re alive. This is ridiculous. I’m not some ho off the street. I care about you.
Yeah, I’m fucked.
I put down the controller, much to Aiden’s dismay, to type back real fast.
Me: I am. I’m sorry. Give me a few.
Stella: Give you a few? Okay. Whatever.
Yup, so fucked.
“Chatting with your girlfriend?” Aiden teases just as I’m killed. Damn it.
“Yeah,” I say, putting my phone down again and letting out a long, angst-filled sigh.
“How’re things going?”
I swallow hard. This is my opening. “Um, okay. I kind of fucked up today.”
“Shit, what did you do?”
“I’ve left her on read all day. I asked her to go home last night after I got super embarrassed.”
Aiden glances over at me for a second. “Yeah, start from the beginning.”
I exhale, muttering a curse. I need to be honest. That’s what I came here to do, yet I say, “Um, she came over after the game. We were hanging out, doing some kissing and—” I pause, and he looks over at me. How do I explain this without telling him my history? “I feel you need the backstory.”
“Backstory of what?”
“Of before.”
“Before?”
I pause, a lump the size of Tennessee making it really hard to breathe. “Listen, dude, please keep this to yourself, but I was molested from when I was thirteen until I was sixteen.”
He drops the controller into his lap, his eyes meeting mine. “Are you for real?”
“Yeah, which is why I’m in therapy and all that shit. I was tired of not handling what happened, so I started taking it all really seriously.”
“Fuck, man.”
“Yeah. And one of the things they would say before they would force me into something I didn’t want to do was that they didn’t like me. That they hated me.”
“What sick fucks.”
“Yeah,” I agree with a soulless laugh. “You have no clue.”
“I’m sorry, man.”
I nod. “It’s over. I’m healing. But my girl said that last night, that she didn’t like me, and I freaked out even though I knew she was joking. And I just grabbed her.”
He looks surprised. “Grabbed her? Like, violently?”
“No, just to stop her. Hell, she thought I was trying to make things hot.”
“Oh. So, not hard at all.”
“No. I just needed her not to say anything else, and I couldn’t control myself. I freaked out, asked her to leave, and now I’m so embarrassed that I won’t answer her.”
“Does she know?”
“No,” I say, feeling more like a piece of shit. “I need to explain myself.”
“Yeah. And bring loads of flowers and a guitar and sing to her. You done fucked up.”
I smile. “Yeah. Yeah, I did.”
“But I think once you explain yourself, she’ll understand. I mean, she’ll need to decide if she wants to accept this part of you or not.”
Fuck, will he be saying this when he finds out it’s his sister?
Suddenly, he roars in anger when he dies in the game. “I was hiding!”
I laugh. “You suck.”
“You died first!”
“Well, I suck,” I laugh, and he grins, throwing down his controller.
“Want a beer?”
I shake my head. “No, therapy day.”
“It must have been a doozy,” he says, getting up and heading to the kitchen.
“That’s putting it mildly.”
He grimaces. “Sorry, man. But don’t worry. Things with your girlie will work out. Do you want a bottle of water? Tea? Milk?”
I get up, needing to finish this conversation. I follow after him, entering the large and very sleek kitchen. “Did Shelli make the tea?”
He nods. “She did.”
“I’ll take some,” I say since it’s my favorite. I don’t know what kind of magic she puts in that tea, but I swear it’s the best tea in Nashville, Tennessee. He gets me a glass of ice and fills it up with tea before sliding it across the bar to me. I catch it, bringing up the glass and drinking from it earnestly. So damn good. As I down half the glass, he opens his beer, taking a long pull. I clear my throat and ask, “Where is Shelli? Your mom’s?”
“Yeah. They’re decorating for tomorrow. I think I’m driving her crazy trying to figure out what we’re having.”