CHAPTER 4
AIDEN
The last time I was able to be near Greylin was two days ago at Dexter’s, but I couldn’t even enjoy it. Not when I knew that Dad and York were planning to implement their next stage of attack. My guilt over the whole thing was so bad that I couldn’t even pull Greylin over earlier when I saw her leave work.
She didn’t use her turn signal. Again.
Not only would it have been shitty of me to hit her again with the same infraction, but I have to be careful with her points. It’s still early in the year and I have to ration shit out.
Maybe this year will be different. Maybe you won’t be pulling her over just to get a few minutes of her time.
I can’t even express how much I wish it were true. How much I want to make it true. And I realize that the only person really standing in my way is myself.
Dad barely tolerates me and York isn’t the man I thought he was. He indulges Dad and his crusade against recreational cannabis and, more pointedly, a business four locals have started and are running well. Sometimes I wonder if York gets a kick out of the whole thing or if he feels just as stuck as I do.
I’m tired of feeling like I can’t do the right thing. It goes against who I am and my job.
York was right when he pointed out that Dad’s actions haven’t caused physical harm or done any outward damage. But the situation is right on the edge. Which is why I’m standing in front of Greylin’s door right now.
But I’m going to be honest, I plan to use my visit and the information I have to my advantage.
It’s possible I’m not as good of a guy as I thought. But I might never get this chance again and I think it’s the only way to get a little bit of time with her. I just need a fucking chance.
I close my eyes and knock, holding my breath until the door swings open. My eyes pop open and I look down to find Greylin staring up at me with wide, round eyes. Fuck, she’s gorgeous.
And clearly not expecting someone to show up on her doorstep. That does something to me and some of the knot in my gut eases. Not much, but it’s enough. Her hair is piled on top of her head in a big plop which is far more adorable than it should be.
I’ve always loved her hair. It’s brown, but in the summer, there are golden strands to be found, and in the winter, there are threads of red. It’s mesmerizing. I want to touch it, to pull it free of whatever contraption is holding it up and run my fingers through it.
Thankfully, I’m able to keep my hands to myself.
From the look on her face, now annoyed and no longer surprised, she wouldn’t appreciate me touching her. I yearn for a time when I can reach for her and know she’ll reach right back.
I clear my throat, “Good evening, Greylin. I hope I’m not stopping by too late,” I offer her the words and barely stop myself from wincing.
What the fuck am I talking about?
“Aiden, why are you here?” The question is full of exasperation, which is fair. “I’m not even in my car right now,” she huffs, her hand going to her hip as she cocks it, challenging me with her eyes and her tone, “and you’re off duty.”
“Exactly,” I respond cryptically before nodding behind her and deeper inside her home, “can I come in? I need to speak to you about something. It’s important.”
She stands up straighter before stepping aside. “Okay?”
I understand why she’s not sure what to make of the situation. We aren’t friends, as much as I hate not even being at least that. We don’t even have each other’s phone numbers. I pull her over, that’s when we interact.
We might pass each other at the store or at something going on around town. She usually shoots fire at me with her eyes the entire time.
As I walk past her, my arm brushes her shoulder, and I have to clench my hands into fists to stop myself from hauling her against my chest. Forgetting that I’m supposed to have manners, I head right over to the couch and sit down, leaning over my legs and resting my elbows on my knees.
“Aiden,” her voice is softer this time and when I look into her crystal blue eyes, there’s concern there, “what’s going on? Are you okay? I mean,” she swallows hard and shakes her head, “did something happen?”
I don’t know why I do it, but I hold my hand out to her. The need I have for her to take it, for her to give me just a little bit of trust, rushes through my veins. Every second feels endless, but then she slides her palm over mine.
The contact has both of us gasping and I can’t tear my eyes away from our joined hands. Has anything ever looked better?
Has anything ever felt this right?
When I give her a little tug and lead her around the coffee table toward the seat next to me, she allows it. The dazed look in her eyes makes me wonder if she’s even aware of what she’s giving me as if it were natural.
