Fortitude Smashed Read online

  Shannon’s fingertips went back to outlining Aiden’s face. He trailed them across his lips, his eyelids, dusted the fan of his lashes. “You don’t have to bite my head off,” he whispered meekly, vowels lingering and merging, another indication of an accent.

  Aiden sighed. No, he didn’t have to bite his head off. He didn’t have to do a lot of what he did, like bristle at any mention of his parents, or turn cold when someone tried to comfort him.

  Not someone.

  Shannon.

  He draped his arm over Shannon’s waist, testing a touch.

  “No, I don’t,” Aiden mumbled, defeated.

  Maybe I needed you.

  It was impossible to imagine Shannon needing anything, especially Aiden.

  “I’m not good at this either, you know.” Shannon’s hand splayed on his cheek; his thumb stroked his brow. “But I’m tryin’.”

  Aiden wanted to ask where Shannon was from, because he was from somewhere. He wanted to ask why—what would the Clock have changed? Why would Shannon Wurther stoop so low as to need Aiden Maar? He wanted to ask what it felt like to almost lose a parent, what relief was like in the moments after. But he didn’t.

  He curled into Shannon’s chest. The hand on his face wrapped around the back of his head, and fingers resumed their dance on barely there hairs. Shannon’s knee nudged between Aiden’s legs. Aiden tucked his face below Shannon’s chin and stayed there, eyes closed, wishing he could sleep.

  “You’re good at it,” Aiden said against his skin. He pressed his lips against the hollow of Shannon’s throat. “Better than you think.”

  Shannon’s fingertips drew patterns on Aiden’s nape until he fell asleep. Aiden listened to him breathe; constant and lulling, the sound of his heartbeat rippled from his sternum.

  Aiden fell asleep sometime after 3:30 a.m. with Shannon’s arms tight around him. He’d imagined this weeks ago, in the time between their first kiss and their second. He’d imagined what it might feel like to be wanted by Shannon Wurther.

  All the time he’d spent wondering, all the weeks he’d convinced himself it would hurt, and in the end it was this: fingertips on his face and proclamations of beauty, secrets that weren’t secrets, and fears that weren’t fears, in the hours when Laguna Beach slept, but they didn’t.

  Aiden didn’t dream or, if he did, he didn’t remember it. Maybe he didn’t need to.

  15

  Disheveled sheets. Rumpled pillow. Comforter tossed up at the corner. Empty space.

  Shannon’s nostrils flared. One hand lifted to paw at his eyes; the other braced against the bed. Aiden wasn’t next to him. Mercy was, though. She rolled on her back on the cold spot where Aiden had slept for most of the night; her tail flicked Shannon’s face.

  “Where’d he go, Mercy?”

  She meowed at him, yawned, and continued to flick the tip of her tail against his cheek.

  Aiden’s room was almost bare. Shannon sat up on the bed—cheap frame, too-soft mattress, and stock white trimmings. The nightstand matched a six-sectioned dresser and was home to a lamp with a burnt-out bulb and a well-read tattoo magazine. Light tried to crawl through the cracks in the blinds; clothes in all shades of black, gray, and white were scattered everywhere; and the walls were blank but for one large picture above the bed. Shannon tilted his head and smiled.

  He saw a panoramic photograph of crashing waves and golden sand; smiling faces blurred behind sunglasses; volleyball nets in the distance on one end, booths and vendors on the other, and a neon yellow sign in the very center displaying in thick block letters: Welcome to Venice Beach, all backdropped by a cloudless sky. The palette was muted, the perfect representation of hazy summer days.

  Venice Beach, like Aiden Maar, was unrefined. It fit.

  In the bathroom, Shannon brushed his teeth with the toothbrush he’d left on the sink last night and ran wet fingers through his hair. He toed the door shut, buttoned his jeans, and followed Aiden’s soft cooing to the balcony.

  “Mercy,” Aiden whispered, singing her name. He grinned at her as she flopped by his feet.

  Smoke coiled from Aiden’s nostrils. His arms hung over the side of the balcony, a snapback was flipped backward on his head, and he was barefooted and wearing sweatpants. A coffee mug was in one hand, a half-smoked cigarette in the other. He turned back to the horizon, which was painted hues of gray and white. Autumn chill made its presence known in the steam billowing from Aiden’s coffee and the fog that hugged the shoreline and pinched Shannon’s skin.

  “Get any sleep?” Shannon murmured. He stepped behind Aiden. His hands brushed the line of his waist.

  Aiden met Shannon’s eyes. “A few hours.”

  He settled his lips on the curve of Aiden’s shoulder, avoiding the straight brim of his ridiculous white hat. “That’s it? What time is it?”

  “Noon, I think. I’ve been up for a little while.”

  “Why didn’t you wake me up?” Shannon pressed tighter against Aiden’s back. It was cold, and he was warm, and Shannon was thoroughly enjoying how uncomplicated their morning was. Well, afternoon. He hoped the rest of the day would stay as uncomplicated, leaving their conversations from last night buried in darkness.

  Aiden turned away to exhale a lungful of smoke. “Because I’m not an asshole,” he said. His mouth quirked and he tilted his head farther, nudging Shannon’s temple with his nose. “There’s coffee if you want. I left a mug out for you.”

  How was it possible that the man from last night was the same man standing on the balcony? Soft eyes, softer skin, calm and patient and unraveled. Anyone who’d imagined playing on the jagged expanse of Aiden’s bravado would be disappointed by his lack of consistent smoldering. Mornings when Aiden was too tired to care and nights when he was too energized to worry were the cracks in time that made for unequivocal truth. There was nothing heated about him besides his skin. The razor-edge of his smile was tame and gentle.

  Shannon’s fingertips traced the line of the phoenix. “I’ll get some. What should we do today?”

  “You mentioned the beach.” Aiden lifted his brows.

  “All day?” Shannon rested his chin on Aiden’s shoulder.

  Aiden shrugged. “I can take you somewhere after,” he said hesitantly. “Somewhere I haven’t taken anyone in a long time.”

  “If we go, will we get arrested?”

  Aiden laughed through his teeth. “No, Detective,” he breathed, voice low and playful. “It’s just a place. Nothing for me to steal there.”

  There were things Aiden was more than capable of stealing, no matter where they went. Shannon said, “All right then. We’ll go to your somewhere after the beach.”

  “And after we eat,” Aiden added. He bent his head forward and snatched Shannon’s lips in a quick kiss; he had bitter coffee on his tongue and smoke on his breath. He pulled back, lips grazing Shannon’s mouth. “You like sushi?”

  “If I told you I’d never tried it, would you laugh at me?”

  “Yes!” Aiden’s bright eyes crinkled around an open-mouthed grin and he did just that. His laugh was an exclamation: a bark followed by a shake of his head. He’d never seen Aiden jump into laughter like that, unexpected and foolish and young. It was mesmerizing.

  “How? You live here.” Aiden gestured to the city with a wave of his arm. “In Laguna—right next to the ocean—and you’ve never had sushi?”

  Aiden reached past him to drop his cigarette butt in the ashtray.

  “It freaks me out. Shouldn’t fish be cooked when you eat it?” Shannon scratched the back of his head, trailing Aiden inside.

  “Do you want to try it? Because it’s like top five for me, maybe top three.”

  “Top five?”

  “Favorite foods,” Aiden clarified.

  He’d said that, hadn’t he? Yes, he had, during the atrocious out-of-the-blue coffee date that
they’d both managed to butcher. Japanese and Thai food, Shannon remembered. He grabbed the empty mug, filled it with coffee, and added an excessive amount of sugar.

  “I’ll try it,” Shannon said. He took a sip and added more sugar. “Where’s this place you’re taking me after?”

  “You’ll see.” Aiden walked down the hall, leaving Shannon alone in the kitchen. The pipes clanked and groaned as the shower turned on. Shannon caught a glimpse of his back, thumbs tugging at the waistband of his sweats, before Aiden kicked the door shut.

  00:00

  “The waitress can give you the little—” Holding back a laugh, Aiden clacked his chop sticks together. “—rubber band things kids use. It’ll make it easier.”

  Shannon narrowed his eyes.

  “I’m serious!” Aiden pinched a piece of avocado roll between his chopsticks, dunked it in a bowl of chili paste, and popped it in his mouth. It was effortless, delicate, and embarrassed Shannon further. “Here…” Aiden put down his chopsticks and reached across the tiny table. “Like this.”

  Shannon frowned, trying to keep up with Aiden’s lesson in chopstick holding. He angled one stick on the crease of his thumb.

  “That balances there,” Aiden said. He took the other and tapped Shannon’s index finger. “This one does all the work. Use your knuckle and the tip of your finger to pick shit up.”

  “Can’t I use my hands?”

  “Rude,” Aiden teased, squeezing Shannon’s fingers together to make the appropriate motion. “See? Easy, now grab one.”

  The chopsticks slipped right out of Shannon’s hands.

  “This is stupid,” Shannon mumbled. A hot blush darkened his face. “I’m not cut out for sushi eating.”

  Aiden snatched up one chopstick with his own chopsticks and handed it to him, then picked up the other. “Stop being a baby. Try again.”

  Again, Shannon dropped the chopsticks. But the third time he tried, he managed to squeeze a piece of avocado roll long enough to get it into his mouth.

  Aiden lifted his brows. “See, it’s easy.”

  “Not easy.”

  “Is it good?”

  “It’s avocado and rice. This doesn’t even count as sushi.”

  “That isn’t what I asked, asshole.”

  Shannon glowered at him. “Yes, it’s good. What else did you order?”

  A few minutes later, once the avocado roll was gone and the pot of hot tea they’d shared was empty, the waitress set down an extravagant-looking second serving. A colorful roll curved across a white plate; bright translucent red fish covered the top of the rice alongside slivers of green avocado. Crunchy shrimp stuck out either end, tempura crumbs were scattered everywhere, and pink sauce was drizzled over all of it. Sushi was artwork made of food. No wonder Aiden enjoyed it.

  “Salmon, shrimp, some other stuff.” Aiden waved his chopsticks over the roll before he snatched an end piece. “Try it.”

  Shannon wrinkled his nose.

  “Try it,” Aiden hissed.

  Shannon grumbled, but managed to sloppily pick up a piece and put it in his mouth. The texture was strange. He chewed, swallowed, winced. Spicy at first, sweet on the end, and cold—not food he’d choose to eat, but it wasn’t terrible.

  Aiden chewed on the side of his lip, looking very young and very curious in his stupid white snapback and black zip-up sweatshirt. “Good?”

  “Weird.”

  “Okay, but is it good?” Aiden grinned and clicked his chopsticks, waiting for an answer.

  “Yes, Aiden, it’s good. I like it.”

  Aiden beamed, grin clamping down into a smug smile.

  The waitress brought more tea. Shannon listened to Aiden describe the ingredients in the next roll, which was stranger than the last. They ate quietly, with Aiden stopping to help Shannon with his chopsticks and Shannon stopping to watch Aiden pick at his fingernails. Aiden’s foot bumped against Shannon’s shin.

  This is what it’s like to fall, Shannon thought. Really fall.

  Aiden cradled his chin, elbow on the table, fingers tapping the side of his face. He looked at Shannon and smiled, the comfortable kind of smile that came from life making sense.

  This is what it’s like.

  16

  It was cold enough at the beach to send them back to the car before they made it to the cliffs or the tide pools. But Shannon didn’t mind, and neither did Aiden.

  Shannon wore ridiculous sunglasses. They were gigantic, with gold frames and a white ‘o’ etched into the temple that probably stood for an expensive brand Aiden had never heard of. He laughed when Shannon put them on, and, in defense, Shannon made fun of his hat, which led to Aiden making fun of Shannon’s Facebook profile and Shannon growling about Aiden’s lack of know-how when it came to style. It concluded in laughter, at each other, at the situation, at the fact that they were blissfully taken with one another and neither was brave enough to admit it.

  It was a disaster in the making, because Aiden didn’t like people, not the way he liked Shannon. And like was still such a faulty word for what it was.

  It, their Rose Road, was not like or love or lust, but some concoction of the three. Love seemed far off, and lust oppressive, and like too tame. Two drops of this, one scoop of that, sprinkles of whatever. What was the recipe? How and when did they fall in love? Did it happen as it did to any other couple? Was it avoidable? Did he want to avoid it? Aiden looked out the passenger window and calmed his fluttering stomach.

  He’d never had a crush. He’d assumed that Rose Roads were immune to the crippling effects of one.

  He was wrong.

  Aiden was just as susceptible to crushes as anyone else. Shannon being his Rose Road didn’t change the pace of things, and Aiden was under a spell. After the nights spent working through twenty-something years of pent-up passion and discussing their individual tragedies, it was nice to feel the way he felt now—nervous, melodramatic, and excited—all the makings of a disaster.

  “Park here?” Shannon pulled up outside an apartment complex in Laguna Canyon.

  Aiden slid his foot off the dash and craned his head. He looked at the other side of the street, crowded with overgrown foliage. “Yeah,” he said. “We have to walk from here. You’re not wearing gold sandals to match those god-awful sunglasses are you?”

  Shannon snorted and pulled the keys from the ignition. “Where are we going? There’s nothing out here except hiking trails and the wilderness park.”

  “That way,” Aiden pointed across the road. “There’s a hole in the fence along that trail. Once we get through, I think I can navigate us the rest of the way.”

  “Oh, you think?”

  Aiden lit a cigarette and jogged across the street. Shannon cursed at him, but dodged oncoming traffic and followed.

  “Yeah.” Aiden pushed up his black-on-black sunglasses and shoved his free hand into the pocket of well-worn dark jeans. “I haven’t been here in…” He paused to take a drag and glanced at Shannon as he kept pace next to him. “I don’t know—eight months? Give or take.”

  “What is here?”

  “Calm down, Detective. It’s around here somewhere…”

  Just as Aiden thought, there was a hole big enough to squeeze through past the stop sign that led to the interstate. He dropped his cigarette and smothered it beneath his shoe. “I told you. Come on; it’s back there.”

  “You’re not gonna murder me, are you?”

  “No, not yet,” Aiden teased.

  They were swallowed whole by the winding canyon road. Hills rose all around them, dwarfing cars and apartment complexes. On the other side of the fence was lush forest. Tall, golden grass swayed in chilly, almost-winter breezes. Huge expanses of jagged rocks formed cliffs and miniature mountains, which were overrun by copper vines and thorny cactus. Bright yellow flowers bloomed here and there, fighting to stay
alive through the cold.

  Aiden followed his feet—they remembered which way to go—down a long-forgotten trail, around a patch of overgrown cacti, and through a break in the tree line.

  Sycamores and oaks and willows towered, home to the birds that’d flown south for winter. Sunlight peeked through dense cloud cover and lit up the sky. The trees grew larger the farther in they went, glowing gold and maroon and copper. Aiden was reassured they were headed in the right direction by ancient beer cans, smashed and half-eaten by the earth. Empty cigarette packs, or remnants of them, were home to ants, beetles, and lizards.

  All at once the trees cleared, and Aiden smiled.

  Shannon’s footsteps behind him dwindled. A gasp, bewildered and small, came from him, before he said, “How long has this been here?”

  The Hollow hidden in the wilderness park was constructed from wooden planks, zip ties, colored ropes, and a massive amount of dedication. A ladder propped against the largest tree in the center of the makeshift tree house led to a landing with an attached rope bridge. That rope bridge connected with another tree branch, where wooden planks were nailed side by side, spanning four branches. A tire hung in the second tree with a half-assed sign on it that read Chris’s Place. Below it was the frame of an old car, rusted and tireless, without a passenger seat or a steering wheel, sitting pretty while the weather gnawed on it season after season.

  Aiden didn’t know who Chris was. He didn’t know how the tree forts had come to be, but they were still here, and that was all that mattered. He turned to Shannon and said, “I have no idea. I found it when I was in high school while I was hiking. I’d come down here with my friends, and we’d stay until it got dark. Sometimes we’d sleep here in summer—get drunk, get high, do stupid shit. Cool, huh?”

  Shannon’s lips parted in a smile. “Yeah, it’s cool. It’s really fucking cool.”

  “We called it the Hollow.” He glanced at Shannon who looked up at the levels of the fort. Hazy topaz light bounced off his sunglasses. “You wanna go up?”

  Aiden climbed the ladder first. Across the rope bridge he tiptoed, arms outstretched, balancing with one foot in front of the other. Shannon followed. Aiden whacked the rope and almost sent Shannon toppling.