The mental malfunction lasts for only a minute, thankfully. He clears his throat and the trance is broken. I really have to put a stop to this lechery because A: he thinks I’m a kid, and B: he’s taken. What part of either of those facts does my body not understand?
My eyes meet his and my mood takes another turn for the worse when I recall that his brother is washing his ball sac in my animals’ drinking water.
“What’s up?” he asks when I fail to speak fast enough for his liking.
“What’s up? Did you just ask what’s up?”
“Yeah, it’s midnight and I’m working. What’s the nature of your visit?”
Oh, no. I will not accept attitude from this one.
“What’s up, Hemingway, is that your brother is causing problems again. He’s in the paddock soaking his ass in my animals’ water trough. Come fetch your boy.”
With that said, I don’t wait for a response. I turn on my heels and dash in the direction of the godawful sound. Which has not abated one iota. In fact, it sounds like it’s getting louder.
The man in question is exactly where I saw him last, in the donkey’s water trough. Unfortunately for me, he appears naked. You know how I know this? The moon is full tonight and the sky clearish. I can see perfectly his bare arms and legs dangling over the rim of the tub. I highly doubt he remembered to put on swim trunks, but a girl can dream.
Pepper and Hazel are crowded under the run-in shed, while the mini horses, Raven, Pumpkin Spice, and Piglet––as bold as brass––are inspecting the intruder. Piglet has his snout directly over the water like he’s about to bob for apples. God forbid.
“Quit your bitching,” I hiss after a particularly bad broken high note and shoo the ponies aside. “You’re going to wake the neighborhood.”
Aidan scans me from head to toe and gives me a lopsided smirk. “Neighbors?”
“Yes!”
He glances at an approaching Hazel. “All I see is a bunch of asses.”
Hazel, who’s reclaimed her natural curiosity and is now standing at the foot of the tub, doesn’t look pleased with this guy splashing about in her water.
“Funny, I see only one ass,” I counter.
He makes a finger gun. Then thinks the better of it and shrugs instead.
“You’re drunk,” I announce, because there’s no question; I can smell it. “That’s against the rules. Where’d you get it?”
“I’ll never tell, but she’s a sweet lady.”
Freaking Mona.
“My brother hates me,” he grunts, head thrown back like someone in physical pain.
Oh, please with the drama.
As for his brother hating him, I disagree. All one needs to witness is his brother’s worried expression every time he looks at this loser to know hate plays no role between these two.
“I doubt it,” is the best I can do. Drunk, depressed, whatever he is, it’s not my job to make him feel better. My job is to foster him for the next month and a half. That’s all I agreed to. I can keep him alive. Other than that, he’s not my concern.
“I’m a fuck-up…”
Well, at least he’s honest. “Stop being so awesome. You’ll ruin me for all other men.”
How is this my life? I moved out here to live a nice, quiet existence, away from all the bullshit, and now I’m stuck trying to talk this fool––who one could argue is the top movie star in the world––into getting out of a tub filled with hay bits and animal slobber. At midnight. This is not what winning at life looks like.
“I don’t know how to fix it…” he continues as if I haven’t spoken. Something tells me Aidan Hughes is not a good listener. “I should’ve… I tried to… truth is I’m…” Another pause. He rubs his face. “I just… I dunno… sometimes I can’t help it.”
“I beg to differ. You can help it. For starters, you can remove your sorry self from that tub you’re soaking in so that I can add disinfect the trough to the list of many chores I need to accomplish in the morning.”
He looks up at me with the most pathetic, searching blue eyes. His perfect beauty in the face of my lack of sleep enrages me even more.
“I’m sorry… I know I’ve been awful. You shouldn’t have to put up with me… I don’t deserve your hospitality…”
Fuck. He’s going with genuine remorse for once. I have no defense for this. It’s my Achilles heel. My shoulders slump in defeat. I’m ready to accept that I won’t be getting any sleep tonight. With that in mind, I grab an empty tub with a few straws of hay left, flip it over, and sit.
“You wanna talk about it?” I force the words out of my mouth.
“No,” he blurts out defensively. Then he digs the heels of his palms into his eyes. “Yes… I think.”
I think about what I’m about to say because if I am going to lose sleep tonight, I want it to be worth something.
“Aidan… I don’t see you as the kind of person that would hurt anyone––least of all an old lady and her cat. So what gives? What are you so angry about?”
A moment of silence. “Do you know my father is a 3-star General?”
This sets me back. His father? This is about his father? “No, I didn’t.”
Aidan nods. “He’s retired and living in Sarasota with my mother.”
“That’s nice. My parents are divorced.” Then I realize the obvious mistake. “Not legally, but they’ve been separated since I was six.”
“That sucks,” he says, off-handedly.
“My mother took off one day after my birthday and never came back. She’s still out there, saving the world.”
“That sucks.” It’s a major effort not to roll my eyes. “My father used to hit me. He liked hitting me… the old man’s favorite hobby.”
My heart sinks. “Aidan––”
“He liked to put up his fists like this”––Lifting his hands, he curls his fingers in front of his face––“and say, ‘Fight me. Show me whatcha got.’ I remember thinking his fists looked like the big cans of tomatoes you see in the supermarket.”
He looks up at me, open and defenseless.
“He wanted to teach me to be a man because I liked to watch movies instead of going outside to…” He exhales tiredly. Like the story is getting too heavy to carry on his own. “I dunno… lift rocks or some shit.”
I’m getting a clear idea of what the problem is, and it breaks my heart.
“What about your mom?”
“She tried… he told her he was raising sons, not daughters.”
“And Shane?”
I can’t imagine that his brother wouldn’t protect him from this abuse.
“Shane’s five years older than me…” he continues. “He enlisted in the Marines out of high school. He was the good son.”
It all makes sense now. The veiled animosity. The cold war between them and why Shane doesn’t treat Aidan with the same contempt. Maybe being an only child wasn’t such a bad thing after all.
“Got the old man’s name and everything.”