Fuck. Don’t show me sympathy. Don’t—
“I’m so sorry. I guess you haven’t heard…?”
“Heard what?” Dread pounds in my chest.
“He passed away Monday morning.” His voice is gentle.
“What? But he was fine on Sunday. I saw him.”
“His heart gave out. It was rather sudden, but peaceful. Thankfully, he had a chance to say goodbye to his granddaughter.”
I run a hand down my face. Kenny died. Aspen should’ve said something… We have a separate leave policy for people who lose family members—
To her, you aren’t the kind of person she can talk to in a situation like this.
To her, I’m just an asshole who took her virginity to win a bet and then tormented her endlessly the next time our paths crossed. She must’ve thought I was the scum of the universe when I offered to forgive her so we could “start fresh.”
So much regret wells up that it turns into anguish. My chest hurts, like my ribcage is being pushed open from the pressure. I put the heel of my hand against my breastbone, trying to contain the pain, but it cuts until I feel shredded.
While Aspen has been dealing with Kenny’s death, I’ve been patting myself on the back for taking care of her bills at the center. What an idiot I’ve been. Why is it that I’m always a step behind?
“Did she have anybody with her?” I ask, praying Aspen wasn’t alone when Kenny passed.
“No. It was just her.”
Chapter Fifty-Six
Grant
It’s started to rain by the time I come out of the GrantEm building. My whole body feels numb. Did Kenny know he was dying? Is that why he asked me to be with Aspen? To make sure she wouldn’t be alone?
His death feels so sudden. The shock and grief Aspen must be feeling… I don’t know how she managed to remember to let the firm know she couldn’t come in.
The drive to her place is slow and painful, with SoCal drivers crawling on the rain-slickened roads. Two pileups on the way create even more congestion. Frustration mounts with the need to reach her, but there’s nothing I can do to make these desert dwellers go any faster.
My eyes involuntarily go to the dashboard when the sound system starts playing “Only Love Can Hurt Like This.” Aspen hated it, which is precisely why I put it on an infinite loop when I drove her to Lola’s, just to be a dick. As Paloma Faith’s words flow out, my heart aches. I know now why Aspen hated to listen to it, especially with me around. The song is a reminder of how she’s misjudged me. How toxic I’ve been for her. And it doesn’t matter that I didn’t mean to be, because the result is the same. Conscious volition or no, when you step on a baby bird, it dies. I was a capital-A asshole. A complete and utter bastard. If I could, I’d kick my own ass.
When I finally reach Aspen’s place, it’s after ten. I park my car and get out. The rain seeps into my clothes, chilling my skin.
I scan the building, looking for lights in her apartment. It’s dark. Is she with a friend? As much as I want to speak to her, I also hope she’s with somebody who can soothe her pain.
Something moves on the metal balustrade on her balcony. Son of abitch.Is somebody trying to break into her place?
I start forward, ready to defend her against the intruder, then stop. It’sAspen, straddling the balustrade, one leg on each side. Her hand is wrapped around an urn that’s propped on the railing between her thighs, and she’s holding a bottle. The chill from the rain suddenly fades into the background as an icy dread spreads through me.
I open my mouth to tell her to go back inside, then stop. She lifts the bottle and takes a swig, her torso swaying. Cold sweat covers my spine. She’s probably drunk. If I call out, she might turn or lean toward me to see what’s going on, then lose her balance on the wet balustrade and fall. Even though her apartment is only on the second floor, she could be seriously injured.
My heart racing with panic, I run into her building and up to the second floor. Hopefully if I knock, she’ll answer. And she’ll be out of danger…
I lift my fist, then pause.Her door is ajar.What the fuck? Fury overwhelms the panic. She’s a woman living alone! Doesn’t she know how dangerous it is to leave her door open?
I want to shake her and yell at her to be more careful, but now isn’t the time. I slip inside, making sure to close the door and lock it firmly. Since it’s so dark, I turn on the light.
“Aspen?” I call out so she knows it’s me and not some criminal.
She doesn’t seem to hear me, even though the sliding door to the balcony is wide open. She merely lifts the bottle to her mouth again. Rain glistens on her skin; her white T-shirt and jeans are wet and plastered to her body. Her lips have no color, and her eyes are slightly unfocused, like she’s gazing at something far away in the night sky.
I walk toward her, keeping my steps measured, hiding my churning emotions. Taking care of her is the priority.
