The Rebel's Return (Red River) Page 4

  “Why are you jogging alone in the dark?”

  She rolled her eyes theatrically enough so he’d be sure to see. “Are you having me followed?”

  He held out a cup for her. “I don’t need to. Dad called me. That’s what happens when you live down the street from them and walk by their kitchen window at six a.m. You know Dad’s drinking his espresso.”

  She took a sip of hot coffee. “True, but you didn’t have to come out here.”

  Her brother turned in her direction, his dark eyes serious. “Truth is, I was wondering if you’d heard Aiden was back in town.”

  She took a sip of coffee, knowing that Dominic had his own past with Aiden, which had nothing to do with her. “He is. I saw him.”

  “And?”

  She fluttered her eyelashes and gave a fake giggle. “He’s as cute as I remembered, Dommy.”

  Her brother scowled. “That’s not funny. Not what I was asking.”

  “So what are you asking?”

  “Fine. Let me rephrase everything: don’t go getting your heart broken all over again. People don’t change. Once a badass, always a badass.”

  She would never admit out loud that even the mention of the word badass in relation to Aiden sent a secret thrill through her body. So pathetic. “I don’t think he did anything so bad…I mean, besides cheat on me.”

  Her brother choked on his coffee and then swiped the droplets from his chin. “Are you kidding? He was a stoner.”

  “Marijuana is legal now, you know.” She pretended her running shoes were very interesting and kept her head downturned.

  “I’m not even going to answer that. And at the time, he was a minor. And he was also perpetually drunk. He dropped out of school. Was constantly in fights. Oh, and his grand finale was driving through John’s Diner while drunk.”

  She faked a cough. “So he doesn’t deserve a second chance from either of us?”

  “Guys don’t give each other second chances,” he said, taking a long drink of coffee.

  “He was your best friend.”

  “He acted like an idiot, and he hurt my little sister. He doesn’t get a second chance,” he said, standing straight and taking a step back. “I’d better get to work.”

  “Sabrina thinks I should ask him to go to F&F’s wedding with me.”

  He ran has hand over his chin and had that same look he always wore when it came to discussing her BFF. “Don’t take advice from Sabrina.”

  She eyed him carefully. “Why? She’s a great advisor.”

  He let out a sound that suggested otherwise. Her poor friend. She’d had a thing for Dominic for years, only to have him go out of his way to ignore her. “Stay away from him, Nat. You’re only going to get hurt. Besides, with the wedding next month, you don’t need any more crap to deal with.”

  Her brother was coming from a good place, and she did agree with him, but there was that tiny twinge, somewhere deep inside, that she didn’t even know why she was acknowledging, that made her want to defend Aiden. Oh God, she was in trouble. Maybe it was the fact that he was back in town to care for his father. Or the glimpse of vulnerability he’d shown at his father’s house…or maybe it was what he’d said to her at the bakery. That deep, husky voice, demanding to know who’d hurt her. She closed her eyes with a sigh. She would not cave.

  …

  Aiden shifted on the waiting room chair in Evan Manning’s doctor’s office and tried to avoid eye contact with his father, who was currently trying to charm Grace Manning. He had to give Evan’s wife credit—the man didn’t repulse her. Instead, she seemed fond of him, in a pitying kind of way. She laughed at his stupid jokes and gave him sympathetic smiles when his attempt at leaning against her receptionist’s desk almost caused his back to spasm.

  Aiden sighed roughly. “Dad, why don’t you sit down?”

  “Now why would I want to sit down? You’re just going to stare at your phone and ignore me. Grace here is a breath of fresh air, and I hope Evan knows how lucky a man he is.”

  Aiden groaned while Grace laughed sweetly.

  “I think you’re supposed to call him Dr. Manning,” he said.

  His father scowled. “I’ve known that boy since he was in diapers. He’ll always be Evan to me.”

  Aiden glanced at his watch. God, he hoped Evan would be out here soon for their appointment. It was one thing to have to spend day in and day out with his father, but to see the man make a fool of himself was another. Thankfully, Evan appeared in the doorway a few minutes later. Evan was giving Aiden’s father a look that suggested he wasn’t surprised.

  “Aiden, nice to see you,” Evan said.

  Aiden smiled and walked over to him. “You, too, man.” Evan looked the same—older, sure, but he was the same kid Aiden remembered. Evan had been a few years younger than he and Jake and had always been the one with his head in a book, steering clear of their crowd. He was yet another example of someone living the perfect life. Gorgeous wife, a kid, and a successful medical practice.

  “Mr. McCann, I’m ready to see you now,” Evan said.

  “One minute, boy. Grace here is writing down the address of the art gallery carrying her work.”

  Aiden would hit him if he weren’t his father or elderly or dealing with cancer. He noticed Evan looked down and rubbed the back of his neck. No doubt he was thinking the exact same thing. His father had never shown an interest in art. The closest he’d seen him come to appreciating art was peeling off the label of an imported beer and sticking it on the fridge to remember the brand.

  “You can wait out here,” his father said to him, pointing to the row of chairs.

  He crossed his arms. “I’m coming in.”

  “Actually, Mr. McCann, I think it would be a good idea if Aiden joined us.”

  His father’s face turned red, and he looked as though he was about to crap himself, but Grace quickly rounded the corner of her desk to stand beside him.

  “Mr. McCann, it’s so nice that Aiden is here, helping you out. Why don’t you let him join you? Sometimes it’s good to have someone else to listen and interpret what the doctor is saying.” Grace was a genius. She placed her hand on his father’s arm, and all the tension visibly left his body, like a deflating balloon. Aiden stood there, incredulous, as his father listened obediently and became some kind of docile puppy.

  Grace handed him the paper, and then they finally made their way into one of the patient exam rooms. Evan gestured to the two seats beside his small desk.

  Aiden crossed his legs nervously. He hoped to God there wasn’t something else wrong with his dad and that was why Evan wanted him here.

  “I was just reviewing your A1C numbers, Mr. McCann, and I’m very concerned.”

  Aiden straightened up in his chair, worried at the serious expression on Evan’s face. “What’s an A1C?”

  “They are blood test results giving the average blood sugar readings for the last three months. I told your dad last year, he needs to be careful with his diet, or he’ll have to go on insulin for Type II diabetes.”

  Aiden ran his hands down his face as his father made all sorts of noises of discontent.

  “I don’t see what the big deal is.”

  Evan gave him a look. It was obvious they’d had this conversation many times.

  “How high are his numbers?”

  Evan gestured to his computer screen. Aiden looked at it as Evan scrolled through a year’s worth of test numbers. “Too high, even with the medication I’ve put him on.”

  “I didn’t know you were on medication for diabetes,” he said, turning to his father.

  He shrugged, looking like a petulant child.

  “He’s been on medication for the last two years—the maximum dosage before moving to insulin.”

  He scrambled, trying to think of relevant questions to ask, even though he knew very little about diabetes. “Is there a chance of not having to go on insulin?”

  Evan nodded. “It will require strict diet and regular exerci
se.” He reached into a filing cabinet and pulled out a bunch of leaflets on diabetes. “Have a look through these as a starting point. Feel free to give me a call or stop by for more information, and I can help you out. I also referred him to a nutritionist who specializes in diabetic diet management, but he didn’t go.”

  Aiden clenched his teeth. What the hell? He glanced over at his father who was deadpan. “I’ll see that he goes. In the meantime, what can I do?”

  After Evan gave him the essentials and armed him with the reading material, he stood, shaking his hand. “I really appreciate the time you took explaining all this, Evan. I’ll do everything I can while I’m in town to get him back on track.”

  “Not a problem. I’m relieved you’ll be taking over because I’ve been pulling my hair out trying to get through to him.”

  “Yeah, not an enviable task,” he said.

  “You two punks know I’m sitting here, right?”

  Evan grinned. Aiden was too pissed to grin. “Also, get your dad to show you where he keeps his blood sugar monitor. He should be taking readings three times a day. It’s an excellent way of getting an immediate and accurate blood sugar reading. There’s a booklet that goes with it, telling you what the target numbers are for different times of day. He should also be recording it.”

  Aiden glared at his father. “Okay, thanks, Evan. Dad, let’s go.”

  “I don’t know when staying alive became so difficult. Radiation. Diabetes. Who has time for all this crap?”

  “Maybe in between all your shows.”

  His father grumbled and stood, muttering something about knowing Evan was trouble. “Sorry,” he muttered to Evan when his father started toward the door.

  Evan slapped him on the back. “No worries, man. I don’t envy you. Just do what you can. Once you’ve had a chance to look over all that material, feel free to make an appointment, we can come up with a game plan, and I can answer any questions you have.”

  “Thanks, I appreciate it.”

  Wait until he called Dylan and told him what a wreck their father was and how much he hadn’t told them. He walked into the lobby, and his father was nowhere to be seen. After saying good-bye to Evan’s wife, Aiden stood on the main street, looking for his father. He spotted him halfway up the strip.

  He jogged down the street to catch up with his father, who was on his way to the bakery door. Of course, going to see Nat was exactly what he would have liked right now, but there was no way the old man should be eating desserts.

  He slammed the door shut before his father could open it. “What do you think you’re doing?”

  His father unsuccessfully tried to shove his hand off the handle. Aiden didn’t budge. “I’m going to get a cappuccino and a cannolo, like I always do in the afternoon. I’m part of the walking club.”

  He tried not to scoff out loud. “A walking club? Seriously?”

  “Yeah. Started by Puccini. We walk, and then we eat.”

  He swallowed a curse. The only other person he had wanted to avoid even more than Natalia was her father. The man never ceased to drop hints while he was dating Natalia that he was connected to the Mafia.

  “Are you freaking kidding me? No. No more. You can have the cappuccino—no sugar—but no dessert.” Man. He needed to do some reading on this condition. Movement under his hand reminded him he was blocking the doorway. He turned to find Eunice Jacobs’s face pressed against the glass. Jeez. He’d forgotten about her.

  This town never changed.

  “Now look what you’ve done,” his father yelled. “That old kook is listening to our conversation. She’ll tell the whole town about my diabetes.”

  “Are you kidding me?” he asked, pressing back against the door as Eunice tried with surprising strength to burst through it. “She probably has diabetes herself—she still has icing all around her mouth. Besides, who cares if people know you’re a diabetic? Don’t you think that being an alcoholic is more embarrassing?”

  His father’s pupils dilated, and had Aiden been a kid still, he’d probably have run in the other direction fearing his belt would be peeled off his pants. His father opened his mouth but stopped, his eyes going to the door. Aiden followed suit.

  Natalia was standing there, glaring at him. God, she was the most beautiful thing he’d seen all day. She’d always been like that, a balm healing his wounds at a crappy time in his life. Except now she looked like she was going to inflict wounds instead of healing them. He released his grip on the door, and Eunice burst into his arms. Jeezus.

  “Still up to your old tricks, Aiden?” Eunice said too loudly and too closely.

  “Aiden, people need to be able to come and go from the bakery. This isn’t the place to stage a protest,” Natalia said with a huff. She could pretty much say whatever she damn well pleased, because the sound of her voice, pissy but still holding a soft lilt, reminded him of what he’d been missing. Then there was her hair, dark, shiny, piled up on her head, looking totally out of control making him want to run his fingers through it and pull her close. Then there was her mouth—that was currently in a frowning position, but a delicious muted red, which made him want to kiss her until she moaned against his lips and whispered his name in a plea, begging him for more. She was standing behind the counter, packing up an order of cannoli. It seemed the entire town was able to get some except him.

  He cleared his throat and gripped Mrs. Jacobs’s shoulders, gently but firmly distancing himself from the woman, then looked at Nat. “Sorry. Not trying to impede business, just having a discussion with my father.”

  She ignored him and focused her gaze on his dad. “Mr. McCann, I was about to start on your cappuccino. Did you miss your walk?”

  His father swaggered over to the counter and then leaned against it as though he owned the place. “Apparently I had to go to the doctor.”

  “No cannoli for him today. Yes to the capp. I’ll eat the cannoli,” he called out.

  Her eyes narrowed on him. “That’s mean.”

  Mrs. Jacobs nodded while his father chuckled. He was going to kill his brother for leaving him to deal with this on his own. Fine. If his father was going to play that game, then he wasn’t going to hide anything. “We’re back from the doctor’s. He’s diabetic.”

  Mrs. Jacobs gasped as though this news was somehow earth-shattering for her.

  Natalia looked sympathetic and patted his hand. “Oh, Mr. McCann. Don’t you worry, my dad has it, too. Have a seat. I’ll make you a cappuccino and then let you try the new biscotti I made especially for diabetics, okay?”

  His father smiled like a child, and he was relieved.

  “Speaking of your father, is, uh, he around?” Aiden asked, his gaze darting around the place. He ignored his father’s snicker.

  Natalia’s eyes narrowed on him. “He’ll be here momentarily. Maybe Dominic, too.”

  Dammit. The two people he was avoiding. Well, he wasn’t a coward. He’d deal with them and be civil. It bothered him a little to think he didn’t belong in this town anymore. He’d come back knowing that, but being here, around Nat, made him wish things could be different. Hell, he hated wishing for things. Kids wished for things—not adults who’d made fools of themselves. Acting on his feelings for Nat would mean taking a serious look at his life. He’d vowed never to come back to Red River permanently, but starting up again with Natalia would force him to decide whether to break that promise. It would mean having to open old wounds with his dad again. He’d have to see him daily probably. He realized he functioned best when he was far away from his father.

  His phone rang, and he slipped it out of his pocket, checking the display. It was Dylan. He was probably wondering what the doctor had said. Speaking to his brother was a legitimate excuse for getting out of this potential reunion roast that was about to happen. He turned to leave only to find himself face-to-face with Dominic and Mr. Puccini. It was like a stone wall made up of overprotective Italian men. Neither father nor son said a word, but they both stood si
de by side, arms crossed, death glares set on him.

  He cleared his throat and extended his hand to the senior Puccini. He wasn’t entirely sure the man with the brown-eyed death glare would accept it. After a moment, he did. “Nice to see you again, sir.”

  Mr. Puccini gave him an almost imperceptible nod before walking into the back of the shop, which left him alone with his ex-best friend, Dominic, who was now, judging by the uniform he was sporting…a cop?

  “Hey, Dom.”

  Dominic gave him a similar look to his father. He was tall, built, and his stare was more intimidating than the weapons he was carrying. Not that Aiden had let on that he was intimidated. Dominic stood a little straighter. “Aiden.”

  And then he turned around and walked out the door. Aiden stood there a moment, his back to the crowd of people in the bakery. The sting of being rejected by the guy who’d once been his best friend filled his gut with lead. No one seemed to notice or care; their voices, their laughter, wafting around like they were part of some club that didn’t include him. The sound of his father’s laughter was foreign to him. They all had a life here, one that didn’t include him anymore. That was his own fault.

  He started for the door, aware there wasn’t one person in there that would even try and stop him from leaving. He glanced over his shoulder, and his stomach clenched as he made eye contact with Nat. She wasn’t laughing. She was standing behind the counter, her dark brown eyes on him. He didn’t stay long enough to figure out if she looked sympathetic or angry.

  He walked out, the urge to at least make an attempt at speaking to Dominic seeming worth it. “Dominic,” he called out. His gut twisted tighter. He hadn’t had a conversation with the guy he’d been inseparable with as a kid and early teen in years. Dom had been like another brother. He’d had his head screwed on properly, though, and had had no problem steering clear of Aiden when he’d turned into a screwup. It wasn’t a surprise he was a cop now.