I merely say, “Aaron’s great, Mom. I’m really glad I met him.”
“And gave him a chance,” she points out. “It was a good risk you took.”
That’s for sure. No one besides my mom and Veronica knows just how badly I was hurt and humiliated by Tripp. I spent what seemed like hours crying in her arms after that whole debacle, and because she’s my mom, she hurt right along with me. More than anyone, she’s always understood my reluctance to try again.
My dad comes strolling into the kitchen with Aaron on his heels, each carrying two drinks. My dad has a bourbon neat, and he places a glass of white wine on the counter by my mom, taking a moment to press a kiss to her neck as he passes.
Aaron has a beer for himself, and he hands me a glass of white wine. He knows I’m not picky about what I drink, as I like trying all kinds of wines. He comes to stand beside me, leaning forward on the counter.
“Aaron was just telling me how you two met,” my father says, his eyes shining with amusement.
My mom snickers, because she knows the story, but she apparently hadn’t told my dad about it. Aaron bumps his hip against mine, grinning.
“He totally hustled me,” I gripe, giving my dad a pained look.
“I think it’s hilarious,” my dad replies. “I like a man who does whatever it takes to win his lady.”
My dad is the true romantic in our household, that’s for sure.
Aaron’s phone rings, and he ducks his head in apology as he pulls it from his pocket. “Sorry about that,” he murmurs as he puts it on vibrate before placing it on the counter.
“No worries,” my dad replies.
“Honey,” my mom says, shooting him a look. “Can you grab some plates? We’ll just self-serve from the wok, then eat at the kitchen nook. It’s cozier than the dining room.”
That’s how I know my parents like Aaron, and, more importantly, like that I like him. Otherwise, my mom would have done a formal sit down in our dining room. This way, it’s all family style. It’s telling that even though my parents don’t know that much about him—just a few moments of conversation and my impressions—they can tell he’s a good guy.
Aaron’s phone starts vibrating on the counter. We both glance down, seeing it’s Tacker calling. He hits the button to decline the call, but it immediately starts ringing again.
Aaron glances at me, his face now etched with worry. I nod at the phone. “You better answer that.”
No way Tacker’s calling three times in a row unless it’s important.
“I’m really sorry,” Aaron says to my mother, who shakes her head and holds her hand up that it’s fine.
Aaron picks up the phone. As he walks from the kitchen into the other room, he says, “What’s up?” I’m not sure if I should follow him, but a churning in my gut says this can’t be good.
Worriedly, my mom looks at me. I shrug. My dad gets the plates out, but he doesn’t say a word as he sets them on the counter. We all sit in silence as we wait for Aaron to return.
When he walks back in, his face is pale, and I immediately push off the stool to go to him. “What happened?”
“It’s Baden,” he says, staring down before turning to my parents. “He’s one of my teammates. Our backup goalie.”
My dad nods, because he’s a sports nut and follows the Vengeance. To me, Aaron says, “I don’t have all the details, but he tried to intervene in a mugging and got attacked.”
“Oh my God,” I gasp, clutching Aaron’s hands. “Is he…”
“He’s at the hospital right now and it’s pretty bad.”
“Jesus,” my dad mutters, and my mom turns the stove off.
“I’m really sorry,” Aaron says to my parents. “But I really need to get to the hospital. The entire team is congregating there.”
“Of course,” my mother exclaims, coming around the side of the counter toward us, my dad following behind.
I nab my purse from a chair where I’d set it earlier, but Aaron places a hand on my arm. “You don’t have to come. You should stay… have dinner with your folks.”
For a moment—a horrible, low moment—I think Aaron doesn’t want me to go because I don’t belong. This is a team tragedy, which goes beyond me.
But that moment passes, because I can’t afford to fall prey to my own self-esteem issues. Not when I can see Aaron is visibly shaken by this news.
Shaking my head, I take his hand. “I’m going with you. And if you trust me with your big behemoth of a truck, I’ll drive.”
Aaron’s expression loses the tightness around his mouth, his eyes going soft and warm. It’s gratitude I see reflecting back, and I know he needs me. “I’m glad you’re coming, but I’m still driving.”
At the door, my mom gives Aaron a big hug and assures him she’ll make dinner up to him soon. My dad makes me promise to text them as soon as we hear any news, then gives me another tickling kiss on my cheek. I hold onto him a bit tighter, thankful for their love and support. Aaron doesn’t know what it’s like to have parents like this, which is also why I feel the pressing need to stay by his side.
My parents stand in the doorway. They watch as Aaron helps me into the truck, and I wave to them through the window as we pull out of the driveway.
When we hit the highway, I ask, “How bad is it?”
Aaron cuts me a short glance, then squeezes my hand. He’s been holding it ever since we pulled out, steering assuredly with the other. “Bad. Tacker says from the report he heard, three guys were attacking one woman. When Baden tried to intervene to help her, he was beaten with a crowbar and stabbed.”
“Jesus,” I murmur, following my curse with a silent but solemn prayer for Baden.
“Dominik and Willow are flying in from Los Angeles on one of Dominik’s private planes. He’ll get the best doctors from wherever he can to attend to Baden.”
I’ve never liked the privilege that comes with being extremely wealthy, or the elite opportunities that are afforded to them, but, in this moment, I am so very grateful Dominik has those resources. While I don’t know Baden all that well, I had some great interaction with him in St. John. He reminds me a lot of Aaron in that laid-back, happy-go-lucky kind of way. A humble, down-to-earth guy.
A man who tries to stop a mugging, who instead ends up stabbed and beaten. A tremor runs up my spine, because that could have easily been Aaron. He would have stepped in if he’d been the one to see that.
The nausea that swells within me at the thought—of something terrible happening to Aaron and me losing him—is nothing more than an affirmation I’m in deep with this guy.
CHAPTER 22
Clarke
I pace the small length of my living room, periodically checking my phone. It’s been almost twenty-four hours since Aaron and I left my parents’ house when we got word about Baden.
I had gone to the hospital with Aaron, and it had been a somber event. Baden had been savagely attacked by three men when he’d tried to stop them from attacking a woman in a downtown parking garage. He had to have emergency surgery as he had multiple stab wounds—seven in all—and he had some bleeding on his brain from where they beat him with a crowbar.