Fortitude Smashed Page 25

  “Good?” Daisy patted his shoulder.

  Aiden slid out from the comforter. Mercy meowed from the doorway.

  “Good,” he said.

  You’re not dying. You’re here with me. You’re alive.

  Aiden wanted to believe it. God, he wanted to.

  34

  Daisy had left her purse at work. That wouldn’t have been a problem, but without her wallet, which was inside her purse, she couldn’t show her ID. That was a problem.

  “Go with her to Irvine. I’ll meet you guys at the outdoor mall in an hour,” Shannon said. He resisted the urge to check his phone. It had vibrated, and he’d stashed it away when he saw that it was the saleswoman from Laguna Beach Canvas & Sculpt calling. A few minutes later, it’d started ringing again, and now a single buzz alerted him to a new voicemail.

  “We don’t have to go out tonight, guys. We can always get stuff and drink here.” Daisy flopped on the couch and hoisted Mercy into her lap.

  “That we can,” Aiden said. He shrugged at Shannon. “You can grab some clothes from your place and spend the night?”

  Shannon had been waiting for a reason to sneak away. If going to collect clothes was his opportunity, then he would take it. “Yeah, that’s fine. I’ll go right now.”

  “Let’s all go. We can run by the store on the way home.” Aiden reached for his jacket.

  “No, no, that’s okay.” Shannon plucked his keys off the kitchen counter. “You guys go to the store, get whatever you want. I’ll only be a few minutes.”

  “That’s stupid. Why drive two cars?” Aiden narrowed his eyes.

  Shannon chewed on the inside of his cheek. It wasn’t necessary to pick up the Nichole Scott painting, but, if he didn’t, it would be all he could think of for the rest of the night. Only one thing would deter Aiden from trying to accompany him.

  “I have to meet up with Chelsea. She left her sweater in my car last weekend. I didn’t realize it until I dropped her off after the convention, so.”

  Aiden groaned and rolled his eyes. “Fine, whatever. Daisy, it’s you and me. We should probably get some food, too, now that I think about it.”

  “Pizza,” Daisy said.

  “And hot wings,” Aiden added.

  “Lots of ranch.” Shannon put his sunglasses on.

  Daisy rifled through empty bags of seaweed-chips and wasabi peas until she found her car keys on the coffee table. “Should we get potato wedges, too?”

  Aiden said, “Obviously,” while Shannon said, “Yes, please.”

  Shannon descended the stairs first and listened to the two of them bicker as he made his way to the Jeep, parked next to Daisy’s shiny new Scion FRS.

  They went their separate ways. Daisy and Aiden headed south, a rampage of bass echoing from the open windows. Shannon watched them disappear down the road, turned on his blinker, and headed past his loft into downtown.

  “It’s pretty, right?” Shannon ran his hand along the top of a simple black frame; the Nichole Scott painting was mounted in its center.

  Chelsea leaned against the back bumper of the Jeep and tilted her head. “That’s for Aiden?”

  Shannon nodded.

  “It’s different…” Chelsea looked at it owlishly. “In a good way,” she added, waving her hand at him. “Like, a weird, kind of cool way. They’re real flowers?”

  “Yeah, freeze-dried and clear-coat preserved.”

  “And to get it you had to lie and say I needed something?”

  Shannon sighed, nodded, and offered her a smile. “We’re having pizza and drinks tonight at Aiden’s place. You’re more than welcome to come.”

  He was sure she would decline. No force on this planet would make Chelsea Cavanaugh want to spend an entire night with Aiden Maar. That, Shannon was certain, would render an absolute and solid “no thank you.”

  “Oh, yeah? Well, that sounds fun. I’d love to.”

  Shannon’s face must’ve shown a variety of expressions other than positivity, because Chelsea pursed her lips and reeled back.

  “Shannon Wurther, don’t pity-invite me places!” She whacked his arm, and he flinched. “If you don’t want me to hang out with you, don’t bother tryin’ to be nice about it!”

  “That wasn’t it!” He backtracked, shielding the frame under his arm in case she aimed another strike at him. “I just remembered that we ordered a medium pizza. Let me text Aiden and tell him to make it a large. You like buffalo wings, right?”

  Nose high in the air, Chelsea folded her arms across her chest. Her long sweater swayed around her ankles as she shifted, adjusting the top of her jeaned shorts. “Honey barbeque if you don’t mind,” she chimed.

  Shannon Wurther 3/7 5:56 p.m.

  dont get mad

  Aiden Maar 3/7 5:57 p.m.

  What

  Shannon Wurther 3/7 5:57 p.m.

  chelsea is coming over

  Aiden Maar 3/7 5:58 p.m.

  NO

  Chelsea ran her fingers through her hair and shot a stern glare at him.

  Shannon Wurther 3/7 5:59 p.m.

  please shes all alone out here aiden please dont be a dick right now

  Aiden Maar 3/7 6:01 p.m.

  omg fine whatever she better be nice

  Shannon Wurther 3/7 6:01 p.m.

  Honey bbq wings please

  Aiden Maar 3/7 6:02 p.m.

  wow ok

  “It’s takin’ a while to change that pizza order, Shannon,” Chelsea said.

  Shannon rolled his eyes. “Go grab clothes. We’re staying the night.”

  Chelsea’s flip-flops smacked the sidewalk.

  Shannon Wurther 3/7 6:04 p.m.

  extra lg pizza

  Aiden sent a crude picture of his middle finger.

  Shannon stepped over a pair of knee-high black boots, and then over a hairbrush, carefully making his way to the TV remote on the other side of the couch.

  Daisy had commandeered Aiden’s living room. It might as well have been her bedroom. The couch was made up with four different blankets, and the coffee table was now a desk, littered with tea bags and Daisy’s laptop, sketchbooks and expensive drawing pens. Her unzipped suitcase was under the table, displaying rumpled articles of clothing shoved this way and that, and hollow in the middle where Daisy had clawed her way through the mess.

  Chelsea stood behind the couch staring at the artwork that adorned the walls.

  The front door opened, and Daisy gasped, hurrying to set down the two liters of juice.

  “Oh, Shannon, I’m sorry.” Daisy zipped her suitcase, closed her laptop, snatched up some of the trash on the coffee table, and kicked her shoes into a pile against the entertainment center. She glanced over her shoulder as Aiden toed the front door shut. “Aiden, do you need help?”

  Aiden balanced a case of beer under one arm and held a paper bag in the other. Bottles clanked when he set the bag on the kitchen counter. “I’m already inside, so no.” He glanced at Chelsea, then at Shannon. “How’d you beat us home?”

  Shannon shrugged. “I don’t know. What took you guys so long?”

  “Aiden couldn’t decide on which alcohol to buy,” Daisy said.

  Shannon nodded. That made sense. “What’d you end up getting?”

  Shannon peered at Chelsea and patted the space beside him on the couch. When Chelsea sat, Mercy hopped on her lap, startling her.

  “Both!” Aiden pulled a bottle of bourbon out followed by a bottle of tequila. “Hi, Chelsea,” he said from the kitchen. It was mildly sarcastic, but Shannon could deal with mild. “Have you met my roommate, Daisy?”

  “Hello, Aiden. It’s nice to see you again, and no, I haven’t had the chance to.” Chelsea’s eyes widened when Daisy flopped beside her.

  Daisy plucked Mercy from Chelsea’s lap. “Not a cat person?”


  “I enjoy them, but I prefer horses. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Daisy.”

  “Miss Daisy,” Daisy parroted, brows climbing on her forehead. “I like her, Aiden. She could get a job as a Disney princess.”

  “Oh, bless your heart,” Chelsea cooed, flapping her hand.

  Aiden barked a laugh from the kitchen. “That was definitely southern for ‘fuck you.’”

  “Was it?” Daisy sucked in an exaggerated breath. “Be honest, if it was, I’ll be impressed.”

  “It was,” Shannon confirmed.

  Daisy tipped her head and grinned.

  “Well, it’s clear as day that you two have known each other for some time. Friends, I’m guessin’.” Chelsea gestured from Daisy to Aiden with a flick of her wrist. “How nice.”

  “Chelsea,” Shannon warned, as if he tugged a leash.

  Chelsea and Daisy stared at one another, Daisy wearing an amused smile, and Chelsea trying not to bare her teeth.

  “We went to high school together. Speaking of high school, I think I’ll start drinking now.” Daisy hoisted Mercy into her arms and carried her into the kitchen. “I don’t think I’ve had tequila since senior prom.”

  Aiden snickered, messing with something on his phone. “You threw up on my shoes.”

  “You told me tequila went bad if you didn’t finish it after it was opened; that was entirely your fault.” Daisy hovered close to Aiden, and Shannon caught the hushed movement of their lips, confirming that they were discussing something. That something was Chelsea, Shannon was sure.

  Shannon tapped Chelsea’s shoulder, and she tensed. Her gaze shot sideways.

  “Relax, Chels. They don’t bite,” he whispered.

  “Oh, I know for certain that one of them does; I’ve seen it.” She circled her index finger around Shannon’s throat. “Don’t be actin’ like I’m the one being strange.”

  “It wouldn’t kill you to chill out.”

  “It wouldn’t kill them to be polite.”

  “Pizza’s on its way!” Aiden hollered. Two glasses clanked. “Anyone else want a drink?”

  Daisy appeared next to Chelsea like a phantom. Neither Shannon nor Chelsea had heard her. Daisy pulled her feet onto the couch and rested her chin on top of her knees.

  “Here, Charm School, I made you a drink.” Daisy held out a cup filled to the top with a mixture of something that smelled fruity.

  “Excuse me?” Chelsea glanced from the drink to Daisy and back again.

  “She calls me Abercrombie,” Shannon said through a heavy sigh. “Just go with it.”

  Chelsea frowned, but took the drink.

  “You’re extremely pretty,” Daisy said, eyeing Chelsea as she sipped her apple-tequila-nonsense.

  Shannon glanced at Aiden, who leaned against the kitchen counter and watched.

  Chelsea hummed pleasantly. Her gaze traveled from Daisy’s folded legs to her face in one blink. “Well, thank you very much. You’re quite pretty yourself.”

  Aiden grinned at Shannon.

  At least the hard part was over.

  00:00

  Somewhere between Aiden’s second and third drink, the pizza arrived, accompanied by wings and wedges. They’d pushed the coffee table against the wall next to the entertainment stand, and Daisy had stored her suitcase in Aiden’s bedroom for the night. Four blankets stretched across the carpet, and pillows from Aiden’s bed littered the floor.

  Shannon lounged next to Chelsea, since she refused to leave his side, and Daisy occupied the couch with Mercy asleep on her stomach.

  Aiden watched Chelsea, more or less annoyed. Chelsea, who wore her pedigree like armor, cast her pompous attitude around the room in less-than-stealthy snickers and eye-rolls. She sat against the side of the couch, close enough to Shannon that Aiden wanted to squeeze between them. There was no reason for him to be jealous, but for some reason Chelsea had that effect on him.

  “You don’t like olives?” Aiden noted.

  Chelsea picked them off her piece of pizza and dabbed it with a napkin.

  “No, I don’t. You’re perceptive, Aiden.”

  Shannon stared at the ceiling.

  Since Chelsea had arrived, she’d been quiet and distant, judging every movement made and word spoken. Even after Daisy tried to slither past Chelsea’s defenses, she continued to sneer, whispering to Shannon after Aiden spoke, smirking at anything Daisy said. It was, as Aiden liked to call it, fucking bullshit.

  “What happened to you? Like, what messed you up this bad?” Aiden laughed and shook his head.

  Chelsea glared.

  “You can fucking hate me for the rest of our lives, but that isn’t going to change anything.” Alcohol boiled encouragingly in his veins. Shannon said his name, but Aiden continued. “I’m not going anywhere, and I don’t know what kind of shit you’ve been through to make you as stuck up as you are, but I don’t care.”

  This time it was Daisy who said his name. Aiden kept going.

  “I get that I’m not one of your blue-ribbon champions, but if you plan on staying in Shannon’s life you might as well get used to me. I get it, really I do.” He held out his arms, waiting for her to interrupt. Chelsea was a silent statue with a pair of icepicks for eyes. “I’m not a cop, or a lawyer, or a doctor like your daddy—”

  “Shut up,” Chelsea snapped.

  “Oh, did I hit a nerve? What? Because I’m not like your Ivy League bloodline, I’m not good enough?”

  “You don’t know shit about me, Aiden!” Chelsea slammed her hands on the floor.

  Daisy bolted to the other side of the couch, away from where Shannon and Chelsea sat on the floor. Mercy darted into Aiden’s bedroom.

  Shannon shouted something, but Aiden was in the midst of exploding. He barely heard what Shannon said over the sound of his heartbeat in his ears. Aiden, calm down. Chelsea, that’s enough!

  “I know you’re in love with my boyfriend, and I know you’re a stuck-up bitch, and I know you pretend to have a perfect life, but if you do, then why are you here? Why, Chelsea? What are you scared of?”

  Shannon was on his feet, but Chelsea shoved him aside before he could get between them.

  Aiden stood. She was tall, but her nose was still a bit lower than his.

  She shoved Aiden backward with both hands. “Go ahead, Aiden. You think you can talk to me like that? Go ahead! Act like you know everything in the world. I’m right here; you wanna say somethin’, say it. I’m not scared of anything, especially not you.”

  “You’re scared of something, and you’re angry, and you’re a grade-A asshole,” Aiden growled. “Don’t bother daring me when I’m the one who called you out. Sorry, Shannon hasn’t run across the country to escape from me yet, but I can’t help what he did to you. I didn’t make that decision for him. Do what you need to do to make yourself feel better about it, all right?”

  Chelsea’s face tightened. Her whole body shook. “You’ve got a lot of nerve pretending you’re on the same level as me. Thief, low life, nothin’ but a goddamn waste!”

  “At least I know what I am,” Aiden hissed.

  Shannon grabbed Chelsea’s arm, but she yanked it away. “Shannon deserves better,” she said slowly. Those words were bullets, aimed and fired.

  “Keep it coming, Charm School. Go on, do it. Do it, Chelsea! Whatever it is you need to—”

  A loud crack broke around Chelsea’s open palm as it struck the side of Aiden’s face.

  Daisy’s hands flew up to cover her mouth.

  Shannon’s breath caught.

  Aiden took a step back. He rubbed the red mark that covered his left cheek. It took seconds for Chelsea to get a proper grasp of her actions. She gasped and stumbled over her words, whispered and then squeaked.

  “Aiden… Oh, lord, oh, my god.” She stepped toward him, but Aiden flashed his palm. �
��I am an absolute terror. I didn’t mean to—I never, please believe me, that was—”

  “Jesus Christ, Chelsea. Ouch,” he whimpered, eyeing her carefully. The malice was gone. “I expected you to hit me, but not that hard. You done being pissed now? You feel better?”

  Shannon might have been having a heart attack. He stood next to the couch, jaw slack, and stared at the two of them. Daisy tried not to laugh.

  Chelsea’s chin dipped. Her lips clamped shut, and she took a deep breath. Her eyes were misted over, but the tension was gone.

  “Are you all right?” She touched his hand.

  “I’m fine.” His jaw clenched and unclenched; his eyes narrowed at her under a tense brow. “Don’t worry about getting mugged. You could throw a mean right hook if you wanted to.”

  At that, Daisy did laugh.

  “You shouldn’t have said those things to me, and I shouldn’t have said those things to you,” Chelsea said. She shoved him gently, and, for the first time, Aiden was granted a real smile. “But yes, if you must know, I do feel better.”

  “Now that we’ve gotten that out of the way, can you stop acting like I’m trying to ruin your life by existing?” Aiden asked, exhaling a long, tired breath.

  Chelsea looked hurt. “I’m sure I can manage that, yes.”

  “Good.” He rubbed his cheek and waved toward the blanket fort in front of the television where Shannon stood, flabbergasted. “Back to our scheduled programming.”

  00:00

  The pizza was gone. The wings were gone, too.

  Shannon plucked a cold potato wedge from the cardboard container. He glanced at his phone. 2:56 a.m.

  Aiden was curled up against his legs with his head resting in his lap. Shannon stroked his hair, which had grown out over the months, and brushed his thumb along Aiden’s cheek. Red outlines of Chelsea’s fingers remained.

  “He’s right, you know.” Chelsea sat across from him on the other side of the empty pizza box, playing with the ends of her sweater. “I’m a grade-A asshole.”

  “You both are,” Shannon whispered. “None of that needed to happen.”

  Daisy shifted on the couch. Her arms were thrown over Mercy, who purred beside her.