Fortitude Smashed Page 18

  They piled into the car: Shannon and Aiden in the back, Loraine and Lloyd in the front. Shannon watched Aiden wring his hands and pick at his nails. He tried to keep up with a conversation filled with questions shot at him from both his mother and his father. Some he answered; others he steered in a different direction.

  Shannon’s phone buzzed in his pocket.

  Aiden Maar 12/31 4:23 p.m.

  that was the weirdest shit ever

  Shannon Wurther 12/31 4:23 p.m.

  i know im sorry

  Aiden Maar 12/31 4:24 p.m.

  you look like your mom

  Shannon smiled at his phone and then at Aiden, who refused to look up.

  Shannon Wurther 12/31 4:25 p.m.

  they like you

  Aiden Maar 12/31 4:25 p.m.

  i guess

  “Aiden, do you like fried chicken?” Loraine glanced in the rearview mirror.

  Aiden nodded. “Yeah, I do.”

  “Good, I was hoping you’d say that. You can help me make dinner while Lloyd takes Shannon to pick up ice cream for the turnovers.”

  Aiden’s jaw slackened. He stared at Shannon, wide-eyed, a frantic animal in search of an emergency exit. Shannon thought Aiden might leap out of the car, so he placed his hand delicately on his thigh. Aiden swiped it away.

  “No arguin’ now,” Loraine added.

  Shannon tried to offer a smile, but it came out a grimace. Aiden typed viciously.

  Shannon’s phone vibrated.

  Aiden Maar 12/31 4:30 p.m.

  you owe me

  Shannon Wurther 12/31 4:31 p.m.

  you’ll have fun

  25

  The house Shannon had grown up in was much like the one where Aiden had grown up. Framed photos of Shannon’s high school graduation hung on the walls, next to old Christmas cards and memorabilia from Shannon’s college days. His yearbooks were stacked in the living room above the fireplace, along with Lloyd’s framed Medal of Honor. Usually people had to die to get one of those, Aiden noted.

  No wonder Shannon was such a go-getter; he wasn’t just living in his father’s shadow. He was chasing familial valor. The thought wasn’t a pleasant one.

  Aiden dipped a piece of chicken into a glass bowl filled with spiced batter and then coated it with a layer of flour. Loraine tossed the salad with her hands, mixing in crumbles of feta cheese and slices of avocado. They hadn’t spoken much. Aiden was terrified to break the silence.

  “So,” Loraine began, taking the chicken from the cutting board. She put it in a skillet popping with hot oil. “My son says you’re a bartender, but bartenders usually have to speak to make good money.”

  “I don’t want to make a bad impression,” he said.

  “Doesn’t matter if you do, sweetheart. Won’t change a damn thing, will it?”

  “I don’t know if it will, that’s why I’m opting not to get myself in trouble.”

  “That bad, huh? You’re so sure I’m not gonna like you?”

  Aiden coated another piece of chicken in flour. “Shannon and I met while I was trying to steal a painting from an art gallery. We timed out that night, right before he could handcuff me.”

  Loraine gave an easy laugh as she worked her way around the kitchen, peppering this, salting that. She adjusted her apron and pulled her pony tail tight. “Mmmhm, and…? You think I’m perfect?”

  “No, but your son might as well be.”

  “My husband might as well be, too. That doesn’t mean anything, though. I’m not an angel; got myself in plenty of trouble when I was your age. Did Shannon end up turning you in?”

  Aiden considered his answer. “No,” he said quietly and put the chicken leg in the skillet.

  “Then you aren’t as bad as you think. Hand me that.” Aiden handed her a serving plate. “What else? You killed someone? Grand theft auto? What is it?”

  “No.” Aiden laughed. He shook his head and handed Loraine a beer when she asked for one. “I think I’m past that part of my life. I’m a bartender, yeah, and I, uh…” He glanced at his camera, sitting on the kitchen table beside his backpack. “I’m trying to get into photography. Shannon bought me a camera for Christmas.”

  “Well, look at you.” Loraine leaned her hip against the island in the center of the kitchen. Yellow cabinets lined the paisley walls. Aiden glanced around, avoiding her eyes, but he couldn’t stay away for long. She took him in from the tops of his boots to his black tank top; a glint of color nestled between his collar bones where the citrine necklace hung. He looked back at her, and she smiled. “We all make mistakes. Sometimes they’re worse than others, and sometimes they’re not. You seem pretty wholesome, Aiden, and you’ve got honest eyes.”

  “You think I’m wholesome?”

  “I can read a person well by how they act around me. You don’t.”

  “I don’t what?”

  “You don’t act,” she said. She opened another beer and handed it to him. “You don’t lie. You aren’t an open book, but you don’t mind if someone has a problem with what you’ve got to offer. I respect that.” Loraine licked salad dressing off her pinky finger, and Aiden thought it was something Shannon might do. “And you’re damn cute,” she added, clanking the necks of their beer bottles together. “Help me set the table.”

  Aiden smiled at his feet. He’d never been called wholesome, not once. It was a word used for people like Marcus and Karman and Shannon and Daisy, but not him. Aiden had always lived up to everyone’s assumption that he was the exact opposite.

  Whatever Loraine saw in him, Aiden wished he could see it, too.

  00:00

  Shannon sat behind the wheel of his first vehicle, a blue Chevy pickup, and listened to the nothing that occupied the space between him and his father. Their relationship had always been a quiet one. Sometimes, when a hollow place would emerge that was vast and deep enough to warrant unrest, his father would ask how he was doing—not the standard inquiry, but a real question.

  He hadn’t asked anything real for years, not since Shannon took the agency exam, not until now, when Lloyd fixed his eyes on Shannon. “You all right, Shannon? You doin’ okay?”

  Shannon’s hands tightened around the wheel. “I’m scared. What happens if I lose him?”

  “What makes you think you will?”

  “We’re different.” The words tasted foreign. He’d been used to saying it, but Shannon was starting to question whether it made sense. Different wasn’t a term he’d use to describe the two of them, their together so to speak; it was more than that. They weren’t different; they were something else entirely. But Shannon didn’t know how to explain it, and different was the only word he could muster.

  “You two are different? Or you’re different as an item?”

  “Both, I think.”

  “It can be both.” Lloyd pointed left at a grocery store attached to a strip mall. They’d added a few stores since last year. “He reminds me of someone I saw a long time ago, this Aiden of yours. A man was standing against a wall outside one of those night clubs in Atlanta. He was the type you didn’t approach, but wanted to. I looked at him and thought, ‘what an empty, solitary person.’ I said it to your mother, actually. I said, ‘Loraine, look at that guy; doesn’t he look lonely?’ And your mother said, ‘no, he looks like he’s ready to conquer the world.’”

  Shannon pulled into a space and shoved the gearshift into park. “So, what? Aiden looks like he wants to conquer the world? What does that mean?”

  “Be his world; let him conquer you.” Lloyd shrugged. “That’s how I got your mother to fall in love with me. I let her eat me alive.”

  His father slid from the truck and the cane smacked the concrete as he got his bearings. Shannon sifted through his father’s wisdom, if that’s what it was. He’d never been sure.

  Shannon closed his door
and followed Lloyd inside. They talked about ordinary things—his job, how he liked the loft, Laguna Beach, how the Jeep was running—but all Shannon could think about was the little bit of his father that surfaced in those hollow places. He smiled when Lloyd grinned at him. He had a chipped front tooth and the skin around his mouth sagged. Shannon remembered when that tooth wasn’t chipped, when Lloyd’s mouth was a straight line, when his father was a man made for brave, honorable things, and he remembered the sacrifice he’d made when he gave them up.

  What would Shannon’s sacrifice be? When would he have to make it?

  Lloyd tapped his cane and pointed it toward the frozen food aisle. “C’mon, kid, ice cream’s this way.” Resting on the handle of his cane, Lloyd looked over his shoulder. Deep blue eyes stared back at him, lighter than Shannon’s, but just as bright. “What does Aiden like?”

  “He’ll eat anything, but I’m pretty sure strawberry is his favorite. Or any weird berry flavor.”

  “Ah, then berry it is,” Lloyd said and swatted Shannon on the back.

  Let him conquer you.

  Shannon should listen to his father. He knew that all too well, and yet somehow the idea of being conquered felt distant, as if it’d already been done.

  00:00

  They ate at the dining room table. Shannon sat across from Aiden, while Lloyd sat at one end and Loraine sat at the other. He kicked Aiden gently under the table, and Aiden kicked him back harder. The conversation stayed light. Shannon did most of the talking, steering the direction one way and then another. There was no need to get into anything heavy, which is what would happen if he let his mother get her two cents in.

  Loraine did manage to ask, “So, when are you two moving in together? Lloyd and I found our own place six months after we timed out. I bet there are some great little houses on the coast, extra room for kids and all.”

  Aiden’s mouth fell open.

  Shannon forced a smile and waved toward the kitchen. “Those turnovers sound good. Mama, why don’t we—”

  The three knocks were perfectly spaced out, light enough to be considered polite and firm enough to steal attention. Shannon looked at the door. Loraine plucked the napkin off her lap and flicked one wrist from Aiden to the kitchen.

  “Go on and get dessert,” she said, and Aiden nodded. “I’ll get the door.”

  Shannon cocked his head and his brows pinched together. He followed his mother from the dining room to the entryway. Loraine unlocked the door and pulled it open. Two joyful gasps and giddy laughter fluttered through the house.

  Shannon didn’t laugh. He didn’t do much except stare.

  “Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god,” Chelsea exclaimed. She stood on the porch, one hand perched on her hip, the other holding a pie. Blonde hair swayed around her shoulders, down to her elbows, longer than he’d ever seen it. She gave one stomp of a heeled foot. “Shannon! What’re you doin’ here? You didn’t tell me you were visitin’ this year. I assumed you’d come and gone already, fly in Christmas morning, and fly out twenty-four hours later. That’s how you do it, right?”

  “Usually.” Shannon cleared his throat. “I was here an extra day last year, but you were skiing in Aspen, remember?”

  Chelsea feigned a dramatic gasp. “That’s right, you texted me, huh?”

  “Oh, Chelsea, it’s so good to see you.” Loraine took the pie and patted Shannon on the shoulder. “Shannon, she comes by every New Year’s Eve and brings us a sweet something or other, you know that. She hasn’t missed a single year, not since you two were sophomores.”

  Chelsea’s pleasant smile pushed dimples into her cheeks. She had a heart-shaped face, unchanged in the three years since he’d seen her. A pair of blue jeans hugged her small figure, and a delicate pink top flowed over her shoulders. He’d seen her on Facebook from time to time, checking in at medical conferences, posting pictures of her horses, but he wasn’t prepared for how unchanged she’d be. The Southern belle of Milford, Georgia, grown up and still the same. Shannon couldn’t help but feel a twinge of pity.

  “Well, give me a hug!” Chelsea swung her willowy arms around Shannon’s neck and squeezed. He circled an arm around her middle; his fingertips hovered over her waist. “What’re you doin’ here, Shannon? It’s been so long; tell me you’re stayin’ for a while, please. I’d love to catch up.”

  “Just tonight and tomorrow, but you can always call me, you know. Or take a vacation in Laguna.”

  “Oh,” she said as she swatted his shoulder, “come on, stay a week or so. It’s about that time, isn’t it?” Chelsea flashed her right hand, showcasing the glowing white numbers beneath a French manicure. Her eyebrows shot up, and she waggled her shoulders. “You never know, it might…”

  Chelsea’s voice trailed off, a very un-Chelsea thing, and her gaze swept past Shannon. Long golden strands of hair dipped as Chelsea’s head twitched to the side. The sound of heavy boots against tile explained Chelsea’s faltering. Her lips parted, and Shannon watched as she carefully put the pieces in their right places. Once, her gaze fell to his hand, and Shannon unraveled his thumb from his fist.

  “This shit is delicious,” Aiden mumbled around a forkful of raspberry turnover. He bumped his shoulder against Shannon’s, paying no mind to Chelsea. “How’d your mom even make these?”

  “Aiden,” Shannon growled.

  Aiden glanced up questioningly, before he caught on to Chelsea’s hardened jaw and forced grin. There was no dismissing the woman’s sudden bristle, and Shannon knew that one of Aiden’s many skills was sniffing out hostility. He hoped he wouldn’t encourage any more of it.

  “This is Chelsea Cavanaugh.” Shannon gestured from Chelsea to Aiden. “And Chelsea, this is Aiden Maar, my Rose Road.”

  “Hi,” Aiden said. He straightened his back, arched one eyebrow, and looked Chelsea up and down.

  Chelsea was busy doing the same, raking her gaze from Aiden’s feet to his pierced nose.

  “This…” Chelsea swallowed. “He’s your Rose…?”

  “Surprise.” Aiden’s teeth clanked together. “This is your ex? The one you told me about?”

  If Shannon could’ve crawled across the lawn and ripped open a trench, he would’ve happily buried himself. Chelsea and Aiden sized each other up, testing how sharp their teeth were. Aiden, his Rose Road, as polite as a rabid coyote, and Chelsea, his ex-girlfriend, who’d been convinced since they were thirteen that they would be together forever. Though Shannon had moved across the country, it seemed she’d held on to that memory.

  “You talk about me?” Chelsea asked.

  Aiden’s eyes blazed.

  “We dated for five years. You were my best friend. Of course I talk about you.” Shannon shifted from one foot to the other.

  “Well, Aiden.” Chelsea cleared her throat and clasped her hands in front of her waist. “I bet you’re just so happy to be here in Milford with Shannon this year.”

  Aiden took another bite of the turnover. “Thrilled.”

  Shannon inhaled sharply.

  “You two should come to my party tonight. I mean, I don’t know if that’s your scene, Aiden.” She shrugged, petite nose wrinkling. “It would be all of mine and Shannon’s old friends. My sorority sisters will be there, too. You remember them, Shannon? Dorothy and Jesse… Oh, you know.” Chelsea stopped to sigh. “I understand if you two can’t make it, but do stop by if you can. I’m sure everyone would love to see you.”

  “Your parents’ place?” Shannon asked and instantly regretted keeping the conversation alive.

  “What exactly is my scene?” Aiden interrupted.

  Chelsea’s gaze bounced between the two of them. “Yeah, it’s my house now. They bought a one-story once I graduated. I’ve been helping them with the practice. Never can have too many doctors, right?” Chelsea laughed, and Aiden’s eyes widened; a sarcastic smile stretched across his face. “I di
dn’t mean any offense, sweetie. You just don’t look like the type that would be in our social circle.”

  Shannon braced for impact. His muscles seized and he bit the inside of his cheek. Chelsea wasn’t good with words, she never had been, but Aiden was a master with them. Shannon waited for whatever string of curses he would throw at her, but, to his surprise, Aiden was silent. He walked away, leaving Shannon to be offended for him, which he most certainly was.

  “Why would you say that?” Shannon stepped away when Chelsea stepped forward.

  “I didn’t mean any harm, Shannon. I bet he’s real nice. You should come by.” Chelsea had to force the words out. Her smile was fake and distant. She waved to Loraine and Lloyd. “Bye, y’all!”

  Loraine and Lloyd shouted pleasant goodbyes.

  Chelsea stepped back and tried to smile again; this time it was real, far away but painful to look at, stitched together with regret and memories and disintegrating hope.

  Reality had always been hard for Chelsea; the sheer volume of it when it fell upon her crippled her intentions. When Shannon had told her he was leaving, she’d pretended not to hear. When he’d told her he wasn’t coming back, she’d laughed. But he did leave, and he didn’t come back, and somehow she still thought they might be something in the end.

  Chelsea wasn’t good with words, but she was good at hurting the things that hurt her.

  That’s why it was less than impressive when she looked at Shannon and said, “That’s what California gave you? Him?”

  Chelsea always had been good at hurting what hurt her, especially when it came to Shannon. Unfortunately for Chelsea, Shannon was not the same Shannon who left.

  “Goodnight, Chelsea.” Shannon shut the door.

  Shannon’s phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen.

  Chelsea Cavanaugh 12/31 7:58 p.m.

  I’m so sorry, Shannon. Please forgive me, I was taken off guard and I didn’t know how to react. Obviously I reacted poorly. That was extremely rude. Please apologize to Aiden for me and come by the party. It’s going to be a lot of fun! Happy New Years! :) :)